Balloon bunch and quote on a foot

The balloon man came round the allotments again on Saturday with his rattling cart, and I bought the whole bunch off him for a shilling because Dad always said you never let a pennyworth of colour go by. Fourteen of them, red and orange and that particular lemon yellow you only get at a fête. I tied them to the water butt and told the children they were for the runner beans, to frighten off the pigeons. Nobody believed me, least of all the pigeons.

Then Mr Oduya's grandson let go of the string to chase a cat, and up they went over the rhubarb and past the church spire, as if the sky had been waiting for them. I stood there with my trowel like a fool. You'd have laughed. You always said I dug as if the earth owed me money.

I'm enclosing the little card the man pressed into my hand. It has the price on one side and on the other, in crooked biro, it says adventure is out there. I think it was a joke, the sort of thing people write at fêtes. But I've pinned it above the potting bench, where your old gloves still hang, and I've decided to take it as instruction.

Four of the balloons came down in the orchard, so I've kept those. The rest are still caught in the plum tree, bobbing about in the wind like they've got somewhere better to be. Come home at Christmas and bring your boots. I've left a gap in the hedge for you.