Down to Earth

I had this published in our staff magazine at work last year and thought I'd share....

Down To Earth

I often wonder as a child of the 1970s, whether I was born in the wrong decade as I increasingly find myself envying various aspects of the 1940s and 1950s way of life. Whilst I wouldn’t go anywhere near wishing I was able to demonstrate my aptitude at obtaining all the attributes of the perfect woman of that era I do feel a sympathetic leaning towards the more self-sufficient way of life they embraced.

But I fear that woman’s quest for perpetual emancipation and continual celebration of the sacrifice of our suffragette sisters has left me feeling a bit of an odd one out in this day of materialistic pleasure and ‘ready to go’ society.

You see, I simply enjoy ‘the old ways’ and trying to fit them in symbiotically with modern life … well, you’d be forgiven for thinking it was nigh on impossible.

But…. I’ve found it isn’t. I’ve found I can perform the juggling act of a full time job, having children and a home to look after and whilst doing this the modern way, I can still fit in the ‘grandmotherly’ skills, both for my own enjoyment and also to the benefit of my family.

My latest quest in this search for finding the Earth Mother in me and the bid to temporarily escape from the fast track of consumerism is the renting of my allotment plot. If you’d have asked me five years ago if I would consider such an idea I’d have laughed behind my pre-packed, styrofoamed, ripe’n’ready, perfectly rounded EU peaches. No! no! no! Why go to all that bother? Digging, weeding, sweating and spending time with doddery old pensioners when I can get it all at Sainsbury’s on a Friday night! No mud, no creepy crawlies, no constant fight against disease and blight – just perfect vegetables and fruit, off the shelf, whenever ‘I, The Consumer’ demand it.

But now, ‘I, The Consumer’ feel uncomfortable with that way of thinking. With an ever increasing demand on the planet’s resources, the need to recycle, reuse and minimise waste, I find myself becoming more and more ‘green’, as the months go by. ‘I, The Consumer’ who didn’t relish the thought of plodding in the mud actually enjoy donning my wellies and digging up the weeds. ‘I, The Consumer’, who thought allotments were social clubs for pensioners, thoroughly enjoy chatting to 83 year old Tony on plot 52 and middle-aged Emma on plot 50, as well as the mother of the boy in my daughter’s class at school and the other two families with children the same age as my own.

And the pure joy and achievement at pulling up a lettuce, knowing I beat the slugs to it, watching the leeks thicken at the stem as they stand like soldiers on parade, smelling the waft of onions from the ground as I hoe between the rows and seeing the flowers on the potatoes before they wither and ready themselves for harvest…. well, give me that feeling over queuing at Sainsbury’s on a Friday night, anytime.

Plot 51

There is something therapeutic about digging soil. I get a sense of achievement from seeing a barren well trodden, firm piece of scrubland suddenly become alive, look fertile and ready to receive crops.

A huge part of my allotment is yet to be cultivated and it's going to be a good two or three years before I'm finally on top of it. It's a massive task and quite daunting. The plot is 25m x 10m and it's huge. But seeing the progress made already is inspiring me to continue. Having my friend Michaela to help is fantastic. She's an avidly keen gardener and has always wanted her own allotment, but the waiting list for her area is 2-3 years. So what better arrangement than for her to have the spare key to my plot, share working the land I rent and share the harvest? We get to spend time together and spend hours just plodding away, stopping for a chat and a diet coke, then getting down to some hard graft again. We've laughed together while we've dug, we've moaned together while we've dug and we've planned days out while we've dug. It's a good place to sort your life out. When we're not together I'll go down alone and at times she'll be there by herself and it's the perfect time to spend time to yourself or praying or just pondering life itself.

I specifically like the fact that the time we spend together there costs us next to nothing. It's good fresh air, exercise and company. But, don't get me wrong. I do also like to get dressed up, whack on some 4" stilettos, bung some slap on my face and hit the town, but my love is for the more earthly things in life. I just desire more time to do them.

So last night, after Michaela had been chugging away for a couple of hours I met up with her and we managed to work some more of the ground. The area for the runner beans is ready now and I just need to dig the trench, work in the organic matter and make the supports. The tomatoes are planted and caned and the fruit bushes are flourishing, although my five donated plants are looking a bit sorry and may not survive their transplantation.

A pathway has been built in front of the compost bins using old paving slabs and the boundary fence to the entrance side is about to be constructed.

Love it, love it, love it.

Somewhere Else

It's beautiful sunny days like these that I wonder how on earth I came to be in a job where I'm shoving paperwork from one side of my desk to another. I'm 36 and I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up.

But I do know that today, I don't want to be here. I want to be outside, digging my allotment and planting my spuds and other veggies. Moreso because the forecast for the weekend is heavy rain.

It would be lovely just to book the afternoon off and head down there and lose myself for a few hours. I can do that when I'm there. It's a lovely place to be. You can hear the birds singing and although the main road is not far off, you can't hear the cars zooming by. It's lovely to hear the distant whirr of rotovators and strimmers and the trundle of wheelbarrows up and down the path to the skip.

It's lovely to talk to Sid the farmer on the corner and the man opposite who gives you his leftover onion sets because he's bought too many. It's great to see that for Bob's 90th birthday the allotment holders all clubbed together and cleared the rubbish from his plot so he could plant his much loved runners and give him a new lease of life. He's marvellous. It's wonderful to see him stop every five minutes for a sit down and chat with Tony next door.

The lovely Tony who when I joked that his raspberries encroached my plot last year, said I could have the ones that had grown outside his fruit cage and promptly dug up five of them to add to my plot, so now my four have expanded to nine. The same Tony who taught Joshua how to safely use a sithe and every so often glady sharped it for him and supervised him while the rest of us dug away.

The comradeship there is warming. The friendliness overwhelming. I don't mind coming back from there looking like Worzel Gummidge and aching from head to foot because it's worth every back breaking minute. Although my friend Michaela will confess that it has been noted that I do spend an inordinate amount of time down there socialising, but that's part of it.

It's much better than being stuck in an office where the windows are locked, the air conditioning units are condemned and the accounts are rolling in. Oh well.....

The Toil Continues Down At Plot 51

Saturday, being another gloriously sunny day lent the perfect opportunity to get down the allotment to continue preparing the ground, clearing the weeds and getting the pathway finished.

Three weeks have elapsed since I last went there and fearing the worst, having visions of two foot high weeds that I encountered the last time I left a lengthy gap between visits, I was immensely surprised to see that where the ground had been prepped previously, not a single weed had grown. It just goes to show the difference between namby pamby surface weeding and proper digging over.

To add to the joy, Michaela had bought me two rhubarb plants as a belated birthday present plus some strawberry plants that have produced runners, so they've now been put in the soft fruits corner. A gap has been prepared for the apple tree, I just have to get it from Mum's house to the plot. The red gooseberry has taken well and the blackcurrant is well established.

Sam gives the raspberry bushes a drink

Madeleine and Eleanor digging for leftover potato tubers

Sam and Joshua preparing the holes for the transplanted raspberries

In addition, in amongst the weeds on the other side of the allotment, we found an extra raspberry bush, so that was uprooted and transplanted. Then Michaela found more along the path edge where the roots had grown under the path from next door and had shot up on my side. So, up they came too. My original two raspberry bushes have now increased to six. Whether they'll take is questionable. There wasn't much rootball on any of them, but I'm hoping with a bit of TLC and the autumn/winter period to hibernate, the spring will see them perk up and yield enough growth through the summer to provide a good supply of fruits.

Michaela digging up the newly discovered raspberry bushes

The path is now halfway through the plot and the gravel that was taken from the front garden at home has now all be transported to the plot to infill the path. It's a bit wonky but it looks really good. The plot is taking shape now and I'm beginning to personalise it. It feels like my plot now, not just a piece of rented overgrown ground. There is still a lot of clearing to do and one boundary needs erecting but this will come in time.

And, I finally got to meet Sid. Sid is an a retired farmer and Sid has lots of machinery and Sid has offered to rotovate the bits of my plot that need digging over next spring, ready for the planting and sowing season. I like Sid.

More leeks were harvested and now some tubs of leek and potato soup are stacked in the freezer. The cooking apples that were scrumped last time we visited have been peeled, cored, chopped and frozen ready for winter puddings. Some have been stewed down to make apple sauce and more blackberries were picked from around the perimeter and are laid on trays in the freezer.

Is There WD40 For Humans?

Because I really need to oil my joints.

After another mammoth six hour session down the allotment yesterday with Michaela, we have used wooden pallets to build the mother of all compost bins. Two in fact, side by side. One to work over the plot whilst the other rots down. They are such impressive constructions three other allotment holders came over to take a look. I spotted another two nearby taking surreptitious looks now and then checking out the progress as we went along. I think they were jealous. Most allotment holders have their compost bins neatly tucked away. Mine's on view - where everybody can see it.

Next to that are two closed top pallets to hold the incinerator and the fertilisers (yet to be bought and yet to be made, in that order). My first attempt at nettle fertiliser failed as I forgot to put a lid on the bucket - which is a bit crucial considering it needed to steep and it's hard to do that when the bucket's overflowing with rainwater. Then, next to the platform is a corrugated iron 'pen' to hold the manure when it's delivered later this year. It's also quite an effective area for putting unruly children in time out - kind of like a sin bin. 'Mess around again and you're in the poo pit'.

We've ripped out all the iron fencing down one side and refixed it in, hammering down the holding posts. It is no joke whacking a mallet over 25 metres, especially when you've got to clear all the weeds and uproot the brambles. The roots on those things are phenomenal. At one point they were just too tough to pull out so we had to take the secateurs and clip them off as far down as possible. I'll just have to keep working at them over the next few months to weaken the root system and eventually have them die down.

Along the side by the fencing we found one metal post concreted in over a base of hardcore and another three foot long piece of concrete alongside it. Lifting that has now bent my fork handle and transporting it to the skip has buckled my wheelbarrow. It's probably also damanged mine and Michaela's spines lifting them as they were REALLY HEAVY.

Last night we were exhausted and stiff. Michaela just about managed to prise herself off the sofa to go home and she looked flexible enough to get in and out of her car. Whether she's actaully managed to get out of bed this morning.....? Well, I might ring her later and listen out for signs of creaking when she answers the phone.

The Weedy Wonderland (aka The Allotment)

250sq m of weed infested land waiting to be dug over, prepared and planted. The work ahead is long, arduous and back-breaking!

wooden pallettes in the corner ready to build compost bin and manure area

top left corner - if you look close enough you'll see the onion and potato patches
the rhubarb's in there somewhere too!

view from the bottom looking up
bottom half covered in old carpet to suppress weeds

looking through the onions at the beetroot
cabbages, lettuces and leeks behind

beetroot

start of the fruit area
two raspberry bushes and one blackcurrant have established

the potato patch
Michaela weeding

sturon onions

not my shed but one two rows down
made entirely of doors
in my opinion, the best shed on the allotment!

I'm hoping by this time next year it will all be cleared and full of crops. I met a new tenant yesterday who has taken over the plot on the left, so now I have neighbours on both sides which is nice as it means they'll keep their plots cleared too and then weeds will be kept down. It will also give me the incentive to put more work in down at mine as they'll put me to shame otherwise!!

Freebies for the allotment

An Indian colleague has just asked me if I would like some onions, from India, to plant in my allotment.

Is the Pope Catholic and German?

I now have three sprouting mild onions to pop into a little gap to harvest later this year. She's even popped in a couple of mature ones for me to try in some cooking, so I've just asked her for her vegetarian samosa recipe, which just totally rocks. She makes the filling and as well as wrapping it in filo, she also does them in Breville toasties.

I'm pinching her idea.

Plus I feel the urge to buy some gram flour and make some onion bhajis.

The Toil Continues

The potatoes are flowering.

The cabbages and lettuces are ready for harvesting.

The beetroot and carrots are growing.

I can smell the onions through the ground when I weed around them.

The leeks stand like soldiers on parade.

I found another raspberry cane just shooting through when the path edge was cleared. I'm going to move it to the fruit row next week. That's four raspberry bushes through and one blackcurrant.

The rhubarb hasn't come up yet... patience ... patience. Even when it comes up next year I can't pick it- must remember not to harvest the first year of rhubarb.

The weeds are taking over the rest of the plot. The thistles are being choked by the bindweed. The bindweed is drowning in the stinging nettles.

Seven wheelbarrows full of weeds to the skip. I can't compost them down as they're all perennial.

Three happy children riding in the wheelbarrow coming back to the plot from the skip. Bumpety bumpety bump, squeals of laughter.

And what did I get for my efforts?

A sunburn strip right on the base of my back where the trousers rode down and the T-shirt rode up. Plus welts from stinging nettles and lacerations from the thistles!

It's a good job I like this gardening lark.

Just How Much Can I Cram Into a Weekend

Short synopsis of the weekend.

1. Pull up all weed fabric from front garden, bag up gravel ready for transportation to allotment when first raised beds are built, dig over earth, tow out tree trunk with Discovery, dent Discovery when strop snaps trunk and bolt ricochets through the air and just misses the back window by inches.

Whoops!

The offending tree root

and resultant hole

Move edging bricks from side of path to front of new bed. Infill with more earth. Decide to fill in gaps with mixed salad leaves currently in back garden under cloches.

2. Decide not to pull up New Zealand flax as eventually after 8 years of sitting on front garden, after hacking it shoots up an enormous flower. Curiosity has led to said flax being left until flower has shown itself before being uprooted to make way for new turf.

3. Bake enormous Madeira cake for Son No 1 for Tudor homework project. Buy copious amounts of ready coloured icing to make tudor rose design for top. Be grateful that friend who visited to help with garden and allotment is an ex-chef only too happy to help with said cake.

design template

Joshua's finished product on 10" square madeira sponge. You have to admit it's very impressive!

4. Visit allotment and weed the ever increasing meadow. Pull out stinging nettles and give up saying 'ouch' each time it stings and spend five hours with both arms covered in welts. Straighten up corrogated metal sides, nab some carpet from the unused plot next door to suppress the weeds at bottom end.

5. Use some of the nettles. Put in bucket, cover with water, weigh down with brick and leave to break down to make organic fertiliser. Should take two weeks and will smell just awful. But my plants will love it and the food will taste good. Therefore, worth the pong.

6. Weed between potatoes and earth up. Weed between onions and discover a lettuce growing in the middle. Also find three potato plants growing between current bed and onion bed.

7. Start fixing in more corrugated metal sheets to other side of allotment to fence in plot.

8. Arrange collection of fence panels for allotment with local fencing businessman who will deliver all panels and posts to the allotment for a tenner.

9. Discover behind shed some double glazing panels and more corrugated metal sheets. Very handy.

10. Deliver and collect two daughters to and from two birthday parties.

Exhausted?

I am!