Week 6: Doing the Lambeth walk!

Today is Mother's Day, and Tom's mother is returning from a singing tour in South Africa and so we did not head out to the allotment today. Though, once again, this did not mean no allotment based activities...

In fact today we visited a place I have been interested in for a fair while, The Garden Museum at Lambeth Palace. I pass the building daily on my walk to work and many a time I have been listening to some of the VISTA lectures that take place at the museum with the likes of Beth Chatto, Fergus Garrett and Dan Pearson. These are lectures that have accompanied my walks on the grayest of days and brought bushels of green into the imagination.

Today was 'Rhubarb Day', and as the name suggest it involved a good amount of plants for sale and food to eat. We had a lovely mug of tea and a delicious rhubarb fool after heading out into the knot garden as the sun went in. The place reminded me of a quaint country village hall, the ecclesiastical columns, the vaulted roof and stained glass mixed with trestle tables, a tea urn and rather friendly volunteers. 'Tis a truly marvellous and slightly idyllic setting in the centre of London.

However much the rhubarb plants looked at us, we decided not to buy one. But we couldn't resist the basket of Onion known as 'Tri-colour' or as I said, and will forever more know them 'Pick  'N' Mix', and two variety's of main crop potatoes 'Hunter' and 'Harmony', all for a grand total of £3.50p. Bargain!

This now means that I have to squeeze into my cropping plan the onions, which I hadn't accounted for this year. But I guess that is the organic development of gardening isn't it.....

"Mr Middleton says: 'it pays to have system of cropping'"


I live in the knowledge that I did and I do, but it will just have to be adjusted!

Dean

Week 5: Week Day Escapes

We’re making great progress in the allotment, and today was the day we planted our fist produce. Today is the day we plant out our early, chitted potatoes.

There is something wonderful about heading the opposite way to commuters on a Friday morning. As they all head one way over the bridge into central London and into work we’re off in the other direction – across the bridge and into the country (sort of). We probably look pretty odd with our wellies, our garden rake and most of all with our kitchen scraps in hand.

There's something brilliantly back to front about allotment life. Those kitchen scraps that start to go a bit pongy in your kitchen smell perfectly natural on a compost heap, bugs that you would squish at home are celebrated, and dirt – a substance seemingly as lethal as kryptonite when found on your carpet is cared for, nurtured and fed – it’s a substance that people of great intellect have written books about.

I’m enjoying subversive back to front days out on the allotment, days that should be for working but are really for idling, places where rubbish is turned into food, and where  mud is celebrated and revered.

Mr Middleton says: "Let us respect the good old potato and give it it's due; if we can make sure of an adequate supply we need not seriously fear Hitler and his U Boats"

Tom

Week 4: With this seed, I thee wed...

This week we didn't end up going out to the allotment, though this doesn't mean it was spent idly ignoring its existence. Not in the least. Instead it was spent reading and researching through some invaluable advice given from some old masters.

Namely C. H. Middleton,  E. T. Brown and Mr Harry Dodson. Making my way through the Handbook 'Make Your Garden Feed You', soaking up the advice from the printed lectures collectively titled 'Your Garden in War-Time' and watching both 'The Victorian Kitchen Garden' and 'The Wartime Kitchen and Garden'.

Each of these are filled to the brim with good, solid, golden olive branches of practical information on how to grow, where and why. Never skimping on the science of nature, or on tradition. Also, they share with you a world which today seems as relevant as ever, the world of thrift. In our current economical ditch prices are rising and money isn't going as far as we would like, and the 'Make do and Mend' attitude is upon us once more. As is 'Growing Your Own', and these books and broadcasts explain the methods adopted when money wasn't able to be flitted away on chemicals or manure, when it wasn't possible to spend on those exotic vegetables when other things were a necessity for survival. Even down to the ecology of recycling. You cant get manure, therefore make your own substitute from the kitchen scraps. 

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying life is currently as bad as all that, but I really don't want to be forking out a fortune in order to grow some potatoes or other crop if it will be cheaper for me to buy a bag with my weekly shopping. Otherwise what would be the point?

Reading through these manuals gives me a sense of joy. To be able to grow, save money, feeling that I have gained a bargain AND get the added benefits from the pleasure that I grew it myself is marvellous.

With all of this new found old wisdom, I started with my first plantings this afternoon...

I have planted in a propagator Tomatoes (Gardeners Delight), Sweet Peppers (California Wonder), Broccoli (Green Calabrese) and Cabbage (Flower of Spring). All of which are sitting proudly on my window sill. Tomorrow we will be heading out to the allotment and planting our our first early potatoes (Rocket) and in a few weeks time we start to see the shoots turning into tiny little seedlings... this makes me extremely excited. I can only compare it to two things; that first viewing of the sea feeling when you drive to the coast as children and that sense of belonging to the one you love on your wedding day.

To think that I shall soon have an area of land to harvest that will be full of delicious and wonderful vegetables, that I will scarcely be able to move let alone carry home, and all from a small palm full of seeds. From small acorns come mighty oaks...

'Mr Middleton says: "A seed is one of the wonders of the world.'"


Dean

Week 3: Personal Rain Cloud.

This week was one for the soul. Feeling a little despondent over the gray, dull weather.... and generally feeling a little S.A.D., digging, pruning and the open air was to be our prescribed medication. The repetitive actions and therapeutic backdrops of nature were exactly what we needed, and more thankfully what our plot needed.

Giving the first section of 9'x18' a good going over, Tom and I split the work load. Getting rid of all turf and weeds, double digging and then a general 'fiddling' means we are almost ready with bed number one for a planting of early potatoes!! This target of 'first to be planted' has excited and encouraged us to go a little further in our plans for the coming weeks, and shortened initial time frames for jobs.

I then pruned 2 established plum trees that we inherited with the site. I say 'pruned', though I wouldn't be surprised if 'butchered', 'massacred' and eventually 'killed' become more accurate. Though in the golden sunlight of today, the plums looked glorious, and were surrounded by a halo of gleaming daffodils that lift the spirits stupendously.

I keep looking at the photos of the daffodils and they remind me that even in dull days, if they can lift their heads and shine radiantly then why cant I.

'Mr. Middleton say's 'Plum trees do not like the knife, which causes bleeding and gumming. The less you prune them the better."'


Oops!!

Dean

Week 2: Toads Revisited

Week 2 started out promising. It was a glorious winter day, the sun was shining, the skies were blue and our flasks were filled with hot tea. We had organised plenty of initial jobs to content ourselves with over the coming day and set out to conquer... well... the allotment. Tom was to be the Compost King, Alan was, after some change of previously planned job, going to deal with the existing soft fruit beds, and I was to start creating the first of three 16ft x 8ft beds.

Having arrived at the allotment we were instantly approached by our neighbour. 'Barbour Girl' was incredibly nice. We quickly established that she and her partner (female) had recently acquired the adjacent plot and were approaching being almost entirely organic. This contact proved rather useful as an hour later I asked where the advertised chemical toilets were, and the reply came back "There aren't any. But I have a shed and a bucket you can use. It'll be great for my compost".

Then we were hit from the other side by our Area Allotment Rep. AAP was also delightful. Eager to make us feel welcome, to know our visiting patterns and to pass on any wanted/unwanted advice. After almost an hour of talking about everything from broken fingers to the 'current trouble with asbestos', we parted on great terms of understanding. She would be nosey in a helpful way, and I would have someone to get the local gossip from. Originating from Yorkshire breeds a certain curtain twitching in my nature.

In not much time at all Alan's raspberry beds looked to be in great condition, impressing both me and Tom with his productivity. Tom's composting looked marvellous, boasting a tremendous mound of sweet smelling organic muck filled to the brim with worms, insects and a myriad of toads (at least 3 in every shovel full) which had us very excited.

Then the sun disappeared after Barbour Girl's infamous words of "you brought the sun with you" and the heavens opened. We quickly became cold and wet. "Pub" was the rally cry. We downed tools and fled to the saving grace of the adjoining establishment. I imagine strategically placed since the allotment opened in 1896 to save those without sheds in such same circumstances. After an hour, 2 glasses of wine, 3 tomato juices, a diet coke, two packets of crisps and the refusal of roast beef later, we headed back to clear our things and head home.

We had a good start but were thwarted by the rain. Or were we? In hindsight I cant help but wonder if, with all the excessive planning, some higher power was telling us to slow down and enjoy the pottering nature of the allotment.... if so I guess I agree... though not as much rain next time please even if the toads want it so.

'Mr. Middleton says: "There's nothing to be gained by rushing out with a spade and turning everything upside down in a few hours"'




Dean

Week 1: Choosing a Plot

We'd been talking about getting an allotment for years.

The thing is, that's all we'd been doing - talking. Well almost all... Alan, being organised had put his name down for an allotment that had a two year waiting list. That was about two years ago. Dean and I had spoken about putting our name on the same list for about two years.

I should probably introduce myself; I'm Tom, Dean is my Husband, and Alan is my Dad.

When we tell people we have an allotment they tend to laugh. Lots.

I've called this post 'Choosing a Plot' but to be honest there wasn't much choosing involved. Six of us turned up and eight plots were going. Each of us drew a number out of a hat (well a plastic bucket) and that was the number of our plot.

Ourselves, and a lovely lady called Eve were taken off to be shown our plots. On our way we were told our plots were 'a real opportunity'. My heart sank. I don't know much about allotments, but I do know a bit about English euphemism and I know 'opportunities' are code for 'large amounts of thankless work'. In the end though my fears weren't entirely realised - the plot has very recently been occupied, and although a little overgrown it is almost ready to go.

One oddity about the plot is that ours and Eve's plots used to be owned by one person and at the top they have created an arched, hedged off secret country garden area which spreads across both plots. We were faced with the options of sharing the top or months of work taking out a very established hedge, plum trees and concrete shed foundations. Thankfully we all (including Eve) fell in love with the quirky top 'garden' so it will stay.

Everyone has told us to take it slow and so we resisted the urge to jump straight in. Instead today was spent planning, measuring, and discussing. Mum said "I hope you don't all come to blows over this allotment" I assured her we wont, as long as we all obey Dean to the letter... Dean knows what he's doing, haven previously taken over an allotment by force aged 14. His neighbours were a little unhappy - mainly because his carrots were better than theirs.

And so. Now we're planned, plotted and ready to dig...

Tom

'Mr. Middleton says: "Nature wont be rushed. Not human nature, nor the good earth."' 

Prologue: The Beginning

Today is grey. Today is grey, cold and there is frost on the ground and fog encircling me as I leave the tame landscape of the manicured garden. The communal garden has a beauty that transcends day and night, sun or frost, summer and winter. Well formed and planned ever more meticulously. I enjoy the garden and have spent a lot of time in it throughout the seasons, from picnics to late evening walks, but something is always longing… to dig… to plant… to fiddle.

Work is dull. Work is dull, monotonous with the same ebb of conversation that is only interrupted by the sound of broken English spent with an ever-surprising amount of tourism. 

Time creeps at this petty pace… But something is wrong. I check my voicemail and listen nervously. The sound is muffled and distant but distinctive: “We have an allotment”.

An overwhelming feeling of happiness, a childish excitement and a longing to learn fill my head. I instantly start to sketch on remnants of customer surveys, on booking forms, gift aid submissions, almost on the desk…. I search through podcasts and download the latest edition of GQT to listen to on the walk home.

Thoughts wander across to a novelty gift that has slept on the bookcase, waiting for it’s time to shine. Now is that time.

‘C.H.Middleton: Dig on for Victory. All-Year-Round Gardening Guide 1945’

My mind dances through images of crop rotations, seed catalogues and muddy wellies though never forgetting the never ending, hard, back breaking work to come… But it remains exciting to once again be able to have nothing and build a kingdom. The immense feelings of pleasure and pride the will inevitably arrive when tasting my first self-grown lunches. The thoughts of these feelings will drive me through those cold, tiring days of strenuous digging.

Turning to Middleton once more, the quote on the cover burns onto my memory…

“Won’t it be grand when we can sit on the old garden seat, and listen to the birds instead of the sirens!”

The sirens may no longer be the threat of German invasion, but the sound of roaring traffic, telephone bells and the drone of millions of people still have that same effect for me. This is the age of a new war. A war of necessity and now to have that haven of an allotment to escape central city living will indeed be ‘grand’.


Dean