THESE have not been a happy two years for Ben the Bucket, Beggarsdale's demon gardener, who, as my regular reader (Mrs C) will know, gets his name from chasing horses along the bridleway, bucket at the ready.

He couldn't do that last year because the bridleway was closed due to foot and mouth disease, so for the first time in years his prize rhubarb didn't win at the village show.

And this year, what with the weather being so awful, the garden pests so numerous and the rabbits having taken advanced mountaineering courses, he has been threatening not to exhibit at all at this year's show.

So far, no one has believed this: like all gardeners, Ben is passionately competitive. But that was before the Great Garden Store Rip Off.

Ben is not a rich man, not now, but he was once one of the village elite. As the head shot firer at the quarry, he did a highly skilled job and got a fair day's pay.

But since the quarry closed some 17 years ago, he has been unable to find regular work. Such are his gardening skills, however, that whenever anyone in the village buys a new tool - a spade, a hoe, what have you - the old one is sold to Ben for a few coppers (he has to buy them, you see, for he is too proud to accept them free).

The result is that his allotment shed is bulging at the seams and the surrounding area was beginning to look like a scrap yard. So Ben took a very difficult decision and decided to invest in one of those heavy-duty plastic tool stores, with a lockable lid.

He had seen one in the catalogue shop in Mar'ton for £99.99. Then he noticed that there was a delivery charge of £3.50 for items under £100. Would they charge him £3.50 for one penny, he inquired. Oh no, said the sales girl, he didn't have to worry about that.

Ha, ha. Yes, you've guessed. A few days came a knock on the door and a man with a van was demanding a £3.50 delivery charge. Ben said it had been waived. Oh no it hasn't, said the driver. Oh yes it has, said Ben.

This pantomime went on for a few minutes, so Ben sent the driver - and the garden store - packing. And in the Beggars' Arms that night, a still-seething Ben was saying he was going to give up gardening altogether.

Now this caused a certain amount of doom and gloom. The Beggarsdale veg and flower show, without Ben's entries, would be like the Six Nations rugby championship without England, the team all the others long to beat.

After a couple of pints - his usual limit - Ben trudged off home and a whispered conversation took place. Monies changed hands and Jetset, who is good at these things, promised to make some phone calls.

Two days later, the same van driver came back with the same garden store, knocked on Ben's door and apologised for his mistake. With a dignified nod, Ben accepted his purchase. Hopefully, he will never know that there had been two delivery charges paid (for there were two deliveries, after all) plus a tenner to the driver for his mendacity.

And all this for one penny - and a lazy shop girl who couldn't be bothered to check!

* The Curmudgeon is a satirical column based on a fictitious character in a mythical village.