Vieve's Georgics

Today's haul

2011-07-25T22:35:00.005+01:00

Blackberries, beetroot, lettuce, carrots and peas. The beetroot have now been pickled (the third or fourth batch I've made so far this summer - I've already eaten one batch, plus last summer's). The peas - Onward - are splendid. They are 99.9 percent free of pea-and-bean weevil, since I poured a dilution of nicotine over the roots early on. Apparently, this is now discouraged by our Government, but I find it works a treat. I by the smallest packet of tobacco and boil it outside over my camping stove in an old tin can for about ten or fifteen minutes, then dilute it with cold water, and take it down the allotment to murder the weevils.

Tunnels

2011-07-25T22:28:00.004+01:00

I made some tunnels for my brassicas. The blue stuff is water piping bought from B&Q. It is slotted on to bamboo sticks about two foot high, which keeps it in place. At the moment, it's only covered with netting, which won't keep out the butterflies. I have been looking for some finer netting which will keep both the butterflies out and the whitefly, but so far it has proved very expensive (anything from £30 to £48 for both tunnels, which measure 5 metres in length and need 2 and a half metres to cover them widthwise). Don't be fooled by the fleece on the other tunnel - it is absolutely useless and blows all over the place like a sail in the wind, and is full of gaps, plus you can't see through it and it channels rain over the sides. The only thing it's good for is warming up the space underneath it, which in temperatures of 25 C is hardly necessary.

Onions

2011-07-25T22:21:00.004+01:00

These are my onions drying. I have harvested them already, though it seems ridiculously early. I was going to leave them in a bit longer, but Joe 2 told me to take them up or they would split (that was after Joe #1 had told me the same thing, only Joe #2 said it more persuasively and in better English). Joe #2 is the one with the gammy leg. I thought he had polio, but someone told me he damaged it in a motorbike accident.

I want to put some onions in the show this year, and learnt from last year that you have to peel off the outer layers so that the top layer is unbroken, and you must do this before they dry. But I think I may have gone too far with the peeling, as they all look very bald and white.

I also didn't know where to dry them. I put them on the path at home to start with, then in my mini-greenhouse, but was afraid someone might steal them. Then I came across these two racks at the car boot sale yesterday, and they seem to be ideal. Last year's onions (of which I still have a few left) dried out very nicely in that corner, in a hessian bag inside a wooden box. But this time I am trying to make sure that at least three come out near-perfect for the show. I wish I had a book on how to present things for the show, because I'm making it up as I go along.

Flowerbed

2011-07-25T22:16:00.005+01:00

On a whim last winter I ordered some packets of mixed flower seeds, and threw them in with gay abandon early in the year in a patch up the top that I'd just cleared. They grew like wildfire, the cornflowers drowning everything else out, including the hollyhocks I'd grown from seed and planted out there last year. But one magnificent velvet red hollyhock has shot up through all the cornflowers and tall poppies and is reigning supreme over the lot of them at the moment, utterly stunning.

This was meant to be my attempt at a herbaceous border. I will try to be more restrained next year.

Snack

2011-07-25T22:12:00.004+01:00

Joe's son, Domenico, came up to fill his dad's water butts from the trough at about 4 pm. He came down my path with a carrier bag full of these snacks that he said his friend had made. It was like deep-fried pasta. It tasted okay, but was very greasy, and wrecked my diet for the day. He said he wanted to start a business selling them in shops, but I told him about having to get your kitchen checked by the Health Inspector, etc. I'm drinking some of the blackberry and apple syrup I made last year, diluted and carried to the allotment in a thermos with ice in it.

Joe

2011-07-25T22:04:00.006+01:00

This is Joe just about to go home. He works mornings, and I get there just after lunch when he's just about to go. Then, when he arrives back after his siesta at 4 pm, I go home for my dinner. He has no hard feelings about this.

He'd just spent the morning pruning his tomatoes for the nth time (he said the next time will be the last), and was complaining that he had to look after Angelo's allotment as well as his two.

Blackberries

2011-07-25T21:56:00.003+01:00

The blackberries on my allotment are already ripening beautifully.

I have picked several lots already to stew with apples and freeze for crumbles or pies later in the year. Notice the ladder of my friend, the neighbour from hell, leaning ominously against the privet bush. I was lucky enough to be there when he started cutting the hedge (why is it that ignorant men always cut hedges at the first sight of a sunny day, just when the blossom is about to burst, and when the bees need it most?). I told him he could trim the top but he wasn't to cut anything on my side. No doubt he thinks I'm mad, but I was thinking of the bees and the blackberries, so not so mad after all.

Further down the allotments, by the gate, some imbecile has trimmed the hedge so that a burgeoning crop of blackberries was cut off in its prime. Where do these idiots get their brains?

Why I have been away so long

2011-07-25T07:25:00.002+01:00

I had a long gap before deciding to restart publishing. I was so busy, I just grew tired of uploading my camera photos every night and then writing an entry, and finding no-one but the odd couch potato critic was reading it. Then when I came back to it, I found I couldn't publish: when I clicke the button, nothing happened. I finally found the answer through Help: I have changed to Internet Explorer 9 and you have to switch on Compatibility View through Tools. So now I want to start publishing again, even though I'm no less busy, but because looking back over my blog, it's as much value to me as a diary as anything else. Otherwise, I would have deleted it by now.

Au revoir, Angelo!

2011-07-02T06:56:00.007+01:00

Angelo has gone to Italy until September. Yesterday, he stood at the top of my allotment on his way home, waiting to say goodbye. He said he would be back in September "...if God allows". His health is so poor that as I watched him walk away, I wondered if I would ever see him again.

He is fed up with the weather here, even though it's been nice and sunny: it's too dry. Most gardeners will complain whatever the weather: it's always too something - wet, dry, hot, cold. But when he described the weather in Calabria, you can understand his point. He said they can grow two crops a year down there: two crops of beans a year, and they are already taking off the first crop already.

He has kept up with the work on his allotment this year - just - despite a very slow start. Now I expect his brother, Joe, will do the minimum to keep it going, while keeping his own two allotments up to scratch too.

Morning Glory

2010-08-28T21:41:00.007+01:00

A day in the life of a Morning Glory flower (photos taken at 7 am, 8 am, 3 pm, 7 pm and 10 pm).
(They only bloom for one day).

Plum Jam

2010-08-28T21:22:00.002+01:00

Two or three days ago I stole some plums off a neglected allotment and made some plum jam. I needed to make some fast because I've entered the stoned fruit jam class in the Garden Show next weekend. I was hoping to buy some plums by the side of the road on my way back from the Dauntsey car boot sale, like I did last year, but that house is up for sale and there has been no sign of the little girl's stall.

I'd had my eye on these plums for a while - they are beautiful purple ones, with a blue bloom. So had a lot of other people, including the Allotment Officer and the Site Rep! But I got there first, and just in time, because they were dropping on to the ground. It was drizzling, and I had my baseball cap on and my hood up, just in case I was spotted!

The recipe for plum jam is very simple: 1lb plums to 1lb sugar. But I managed to burn mine. Marguerite Patten suggests you put 4-5 tablespoons water per ilb plums into the preserving pan. I put in only 5 tablespoons water to 2 lbs plums, and I think that's why the jam burned. Plus I was using a thermometer which wasn't doing its job. I have trouble on my cooker at getting the jam to the right temperature, because the big rings are at the back, and the small ones at the front aren't powerful enough (that's not all that's wrong with my cooker, but I did get it for virtually nothing, and at least it works, unlike some my mother had when I was growing up). But anyhow, the jam tasted all right. Whether it will win a prize or not is another matter. We shall see.

Chutney

2010-08-28T20:57:00.005+01:00

I made some chutney this week - the first I've ever made. I wasn't brought up with chutney - the nearest we came to it was Branston pickle. But I remember every year at the school Harvest Festival children bringing in jars of horrible green muck and thinking I would never in a million years eat such a thing. What a surprise it was, then, to find that my chutney was absolutely delicious!

The recipe is as follows, and is taken from Marguerite Patten's Jams, Preserves and Chutneys Handbook in the Basic Basics series (ISBN 1902304721):

Autumn Chutney

1lb each of cooking apples and marrows, peeled and chopped
1.5 lbs onions, peeled and finely chopped
1lb tomatoes, skinned and chopped (I tried green, but they were impossible to skin, so I ended up using red)
1.25 pints vinegar (brown or white)
2 teasps pickling spices, tied in muslin (I used about four tablespoons!)
2 garlic cloves, put whole in the muslin with the spices (I only used one)
1lb sugar (I used demerara, but Marguerite Patten suggests dark brown)
1lb raisins

Method
Prepare the raw fruit and veg. Put the chopped onions into the preserving pan with half the vinegar and the spices and garlic tied in muslin. Bring to the boil and simmer 15 mins. Add the rest of the raw fruit and veg and the remainder of the vinegar and cook gently until the fruits are soft. Add the sugar and stir over a low heat until dissolved. Add the raisins. Cook steadily until the chutney has the consistency of thick jam. Remove the muslin bag, and spoon the chutney while hot into hot, sterilized jars. Seal down.

Marguerite Patten's recipe calls for a pound each of plums and pears, plus half a pound of blackberries. I went to Shrivenham Fete today and met someone who was selling Autumn Chutney made to this recipe, with the plums but without the blackberries. If anything, it tasted even better than mine, and it had a better colour (pinkish, as opposed to brown).

I could eat a whole jar of this chutney in a few days, but because I'm still on a diet, I have to ration myself to half a teaspoon a day. I think you appreciate the taste even more when you're only allowed a tiny bit. My strawberry and blackcurrant jams are a case in point. I don't know what amount I will allow myself when I have finally reached my target weight - but that's another subject. Apart from the fact that I am eating so many vegetables now that there is no way I am still losing weight like I did in the summer, when there was nothing to do but dig and sweat.

Helena, plot 37

2010-08-20T00:18:00.004+01:00

This is Helena. She's Dutch, and so is her bike. She has plot 37, but she says she's giving it up. Her daughter has plot 3 (?), but her shed was burnt down, and she was lucky that her chickens in the chicken houses survived. So Helena says she no longer feels secure or good about being down there. She is taking her tools home, because she's decided to concentrate her efforts on her garden at home. I think it's terribly sad that the vandals have won in this case.

More gifts

2010-08-20T00:11:00.007+01:00

These are just one day's exchange. The beetroot are from the man on plot 43 (?). I can't remember what variety they are, but it's something that describes its enormous size. He gave me three giants, which filled my preserving pan, and had to be boiled for over an hour. I pickled them all, but now have practically no jars left, and no spiced vinegar. I'm not sure whether they'll taste as good as the small ones - we shall see. It made me feel very Russian, peeling and slicing these huge monsters. I could imagine living on them throughout the winter.

The bucket of plums was from Joe, as I said. And the white currants were from Helena (plot 37).

Tomaso's gifts

2010-08-20T00:01:00.003+01:00

Tomaso said as he passed today, "Do you want some broccoli plants?" He gave me some last year, and they were very productive and very good. So although it was raining and I was trying to get a patch dug before my bladder gave out, I followed him to his allotment. On the way, he said, "You're not frightened of me, are you?" (He's about four foot tall and over 90). "Because people will gossip if they see you with me and say you are my girlfriend!"

After showing me round (again), he pulled up some broccoli plants, and then offered me some fennel plants too. I don't really like fennel all that much, but it looks impressive, and I thought if I put it up the top in the bit that I've just cleared, the Italians would praise me as they passed. Besides, it's all food, and food is sacred. So I said yes, and he carefully counted out ten plants. He put them in a sugar bag, saying he'd been making jam from his plums, then handed me another bag and told me to look inside. Inside was this circular twist of bread which I think he said his daughter "who has the shop" had made. It was a bit dried out, but it tasted delicious: it was flavoured with fennel seeds and salt. As I was starving by then, because it was nearly tea-time, it was very welcome.

As I left to go back to my allotment, Tomaso gave me a hug and said, "You are like my wife and my daughter!"

Harvest

2010-08-19T23:50:00.002+01:00

The harvest is in full swing at the moment, with not a spare moment, and far too much for one person to eat. This is just one day's haul. The plums are from Joe's tree. I picked enough, saying I would pick some more in a couple of days' time and make jam, because I was going to London the next day. But Joe picked another bucket-full and gave them to me, saying I could make jam when I got back. When I got back, most of them were rotten, so I had to chuck them away. For jam, fruit needs to be freshly picked. These plums aren't like commercial plums - they go off within hours.

The tomatoes are from Joe too. The peas, runner beans, French beans, onions and cucumber are from my allotment. I have so many beans now I don't know what to do with them. I tried freezing them, but they became completely inedible - a mushy, tasteless mess - so I threw all the ones I'd frozen away. I've tried freezing some without blanching them, as Angelina suggested (she indicated slicing them in four, then added, "then mette in freezee"). The peas, on the other hand, taste fine after being frozen. These are Onward peas - I don't know when I sowed them: it was late, though, and the result was a brilliant crop without a single weevil.

Blackberry syrup

2010-08-19T23:43:00.003+01:00

This is the Blackberry & Apple syrup I made a few days ago. It contains about a pound of blackberries, a large cooking apple and a couple of small eating apples (leave those out next time - they don't mush down as quickly as cooking apples, and as a result you overboil the blackberries, which destroys the flavour). Cook and strain as for jelly, but then heat the juice with sugar (8-12 oz per pint of juice) for as short a time as possible (bring to the boil and simmer until the sugar is thoroughly dissolved), then put into sterilized bottles.

Finding suitable bottles was the hardest part. You need glass bottles with metal tops - most bottles have plastic caps nowadays. Only the more expensive drinks have metal tops. This was a lovely bottle but I just couldn't get the label off, no matter how I tried. The label seems to be made of plastic, not paper - God knows what it's stuck on with.

Blight weather

2010-08-10T10:56:00.005+01:00

Just as the tomatoes are starting to ripen, the weather has changed, and is now perfect blight weather - wet, drizzly and warm. Already my neighbours on plot 60 have had to uproots some of their tomatoes, and so has Chris on 61 and 63. He says he got those plants from the Italians, and thinks my neighbours did too (these are plum tomatoes we're talking about). I was offered some, but had enough of my own, so didn't take any. Some of Joe's tomatoes have black spots on them, and I noticed little spots on the very few of mine that are already ripe.

For two years we have all lost our tomato crop to blight. The last two years there was dreadful cold, damp weather all summer. It probably doesn't help that the Italians do not scrupulously destroy any blighted tomatoes, but often leave them lying about on the ground. Thank goodness tomatoes are only a minor proportion of my crop. I feel really sorry for the Italians, who always grow rows and rows of them. I knew I shouldn't have bought that tomato puree maker: I knew at the time that it was a hostage to fortune.

Pickling gherkins

2010-08-10T10:47:00.002+01:00

I've already pickled one gherkin, and today I'm pickling some more. The first lot blow your head off: intense salt and intense spicy vinegar. I'm trying a milder version this time, though I doubt if it will be much milder.

First of all, you soak the gherkin slices in a cold wet brine overnight. The brine consists of 2 oz salt dissolved in 1 pint water. The salt must be pure sea or rock salt, i.e. not contaminated with anti-caking agent.

Next day, rinse very well and leave to drain. Pack into cold sterilised jars, cover with spiced vinegar, and seal.

Last time, I simmered the gherkins in the brine for 10 minutes. As a result, they went too soft. This time, I am going to add some sugar in the hope that this will make them more palatable.

The cucumber...swelling to greatness

2010-08-06T18:22:00.002+01:00

The bloody cucumbers are swelling a bit too much, if you ask me. The cry on the allotment is "Do you want a cucumber?" "Have you enough cucumbers?" Yes thanks, billions of the buggers. And when they swell to greatness, the seeds become too apparent. However, my cucumbers are delicious: Burpless Tasty Green; unlike some of the nasty bitter things I grew last year. I tried to explain to some of the Italians what an F1 hybrid was, and that you couldn't use the seeds next year (they grow the majority of their crops from saved seed), but they did not believe me. They make me feel guilty and extravagant about my lust for novelty, and my desire to buy new seeds every year.

Freezing carrots

2010-08-06T18:09:00.006+01:00

I have started freezing my carrots today. I have 2 and a half rows left: this photo represents about 2 foot of one of the rows, so I've got my work cut out. After scrubbing them, scraping them and slicing them, you blanch them for 3 to 5 minutes, then freeze. It will be worth it, I sigh to myself, just you wait, when you're tucking into boiled beef and carrots on a cold, miserable November evening.

Pickling beetroot

2010-08-06T17:58:00.005+01:00

I pickled the last of my beetroot today. This represents the last half a row (I had two) of Boltardy. I've already eaten loads of boiled beetroot and have made inroads on the beetroot already pickled. I love the way it makes potato go a fabulous purple colour, and this particular blend of pickling spices results in a very sweet spiced vinegar.

To make the spiced vinegar, tie the following spices in muslin: a 2" stick of cinnamon, 1 teaspoon cloves, 2 teaspoons allspice berries, 1 teaspoon black peppercorns, 1 teaspoon yellow mustard seeds, 2-3 bay leaves. Place spices and vinegar in a basin (covered with foil) over a saucepan of water. Bring the water to the boil, then remove from the heat. Set aside 2-3 hours for the spices to steep in the warm vinegar. Remove the spices and pour the vinegar back into the original bottles, label and keep till needed.

To pickle beetroot, boil the beetroot whole for 45 minutes. Peel. Slice and pack into sterilised jars. Pour over cold spiced vinegar, seal and label.

Salvation Army allotment

2010-08-06T17:50:00.004+01:00

This is the state of my former allotment yesterday. The residents of Booth House Salvation Army Hostel have come down here approximately twice this year. On the first occasion, they spent the afternoon breaking up the wood from the old shed and transferred it to the bottom of the allotment, where they intend to burn it (local householders beware!). On the last, they dug the hole behind the pile of wood. It is supposed to be a pond. As for the rest, while they have put a luxurious shed on the plot and filled it with cheap but new tools, they have done NOTHING else, yes NOTHING AT ALL! Allotment Officer, take note and GET RID!

(Mind you, the wood has been very useful for lighting my bonfires).

A typical day down the allotment

2010-08-05T23:00:00.003+01:00

A typical day down the allotment - go down in a bad mood because I don't feel like digging. Get stuck in, then am distracted by a stray dog on the allotment. It is a big black thing with no collar and it looks as if it has bulldog blood in it. It is drooling and barking and running round everywhere.

I yell at it and start to chase it, but of course, it's useless trying to chase a dog. I chuck stones at it but it thinks I'm throwing sticks for it to catch, and in any case, I'm a useless shot. I hate dogs and I'd be quite happy to hit it with a stone or to shoot it if guns were allowed on the allotments (such is the fury evinced by irresponsible dog owners). I chase it up near the gate and notice a female allotment holder on her plot with her (grand?)child. The woman is more scared of the dog than the child, but refuses to show it. She is scared the child will approach the dog.

She opens the gate and I continue to chase, but the dog goes the other way. Whoever owns it is keeping a low profile, but I'm sure they can hear me shout and see me throw stones (half the reason I'm doing it). Eventually the bloody thing disappears, and the woman and I console eachother and let off steam.

I go back to my digging, fired up with adrenalin, and finish my allotted 4 rows. Somebody leaves the gate open, and just after I've shut it, someone else comes in in a pick-up and leaves it open. A woman has walked in at the same time, and I go up to her to tick her off, but it's nothing to do with her, and anyhow she's new, and has come to look at the plot they've offered her. I take her to see it. It's awful. And the annoying thing is, she saw it in May when it was manageable, but the Allotment Officer say she couldn't go on it until the council had flailed it. They still haven't done so. Meanwhile, she has not received the offer letters sent out, so nearly misses out altogether.

I show her some decent plots she might be able to get her hands on, and she leaves. She's meeting the Allotment Officer on Monday, so should be able to arrange something then.

I finish spraying my sprouts and broccoli - only one caterpillar so far, but at least two batches of eggs. On my way home, I give prints of the photos I have taken to one of the sisters (Anita), who seems to be pleased with them. I feel much better now, and go home to a huge dinner of ham omelette, runner beans, potatoes, tomatoes, pickled beetroot, carrots, lettuce, cucumber, feta and olives. There is even some blackberry and apple juice left from jelly-making to pour over my fruit and yogurt for afters.

French beans

2010-08-05T22:49:00.003+01:00

My French beans (variety Purple Queen) have produced pods really quickly, so now I am starting to freeze batches of them. They are a glorious colour (and have attracted much curious attention from passing Italians because they are at the top of my plot in the bit I am just clearing). They turn green when cooked.

They need to be blanched for 2-3 minutes before freezing - any more and they would go soggy. So far, my new freezer has been brilliant, though I tend to forget to turn it on to fast freeze a few hours before freezing, then back on to normal after. But it seems to make no difference for small amounts. Blanching and freezing are very quick once you've got the hang of them; at this time of year, what with the French beans and the runner beans all beaning at the same time, it's almost a daily task. I'm going to start freezing my carrots, too, tomorrow. Thank goodness I've no work on at the moment.

(I know that saucepan looks revolting, but you don't have to eat anything I cook in it. I had it as a wedding present in 1975, and unlike anything they make now, really has lived up to its lifetime guarantee. It's cast iron, made by Colorcast, and was given me by my mum).

Tomato puree maker

2010-08-05T22:43:00.003+01:00

I've bought a tomato puree maker from the Italian shop in Beatrice Street. Joe uses a machine like this to puree his tomatoes every year ready for bottling, though I don't know if his is a red plastic one. It cost me just under £19. Apparently, it spits out the pips and skin. We shall see. So far, I've only had about five ripe tomatoes, but if we get no blight this year, I should get a decent crop.

What is it?

2010-08-05T22:39:00.001+01:00

Someone gave me this plant, and told me it was a courgette. It isn't, clearly. But what is it? I don't know. I will have to wait and find out. I hope it's not a boring old marrow. I am rather hoping it's a melon, but I doubt it.

Morning Glory

2010-08-05T22:36:00.002+01:00

My Morning Glory has flowered at long last. I thought it never would. They are the most exquisite flowers, such a delicate blue, well worth the trouble.

I have more outside my house, twining with the vine. They are doing better, and should make a good show when they flower.

Making blackberry and apple (bramble) jelly

2010-08-05T22:13:00.005+01:00

I have made two batches of blackberry and apple jelly already, even though it's only early August. Because of the dry weather and sunshine, the blackberries are really good this year. I picked the ones on my allotment, then decided to fill the punnet with ones from the perimeter of the site. I got them home, weighed them, and found I had only 1lb, and the recipe called for 2lbs, so next day, I went to Small Pickards Field, which used to be allotments (and where Joe and Angelo and lots of others had plots before they were chucked off). They closed Small Pickards Field because some TV personality decided to build eco-friendly houses on the site, and Swindon Council, great lovers of gimmicks, fell for it. The houses never materialised.

When I got there, I found the gate padlocked and temporary fencing blocking all the gaps. Why? What harm was there in leaving the field accessible to children, and to adults who want to pick blackberries? But there has been a campaign to designate the site a village green, so I guess our stupid council didn't want to take any risks.

However, I made my way down the fence, and when I went through the woods by the stream to join the cycle path, I found a way into the field behind Small Pickards Field, and there were plenty of untouched blackberry bushes there, so I could easily fill my second punnet. (I got rained on at the same time, the first rain for ages, but it was too light to do much).

Anyhow, I had decided to make jelly, because wild blackberries are often full of crap, including maggots. I'd bought some cooking apples, and put one of those chopped up into the pan with 2lbs blackberries, well washed, and a quarter of a pint of water. You don't need to peel or core the apples: in fact, it's better if you don't because the pectin is in the peel. Then I simmered them until the apples were soft and I could mash them down with a potato masher.

One of the hard parts of making jelly is rigging up the jelly bag. I had some muslin I bought in Malmesbury a year ago, so I tied string to the corners of a large square of it, and hung it over my laundry basket, with a mixing bowl underneath it to catch the juice. Then you leave it to drip for at least a couple of hours. You must never squeeze it, because that makes the jelly cloudy.

When you've done that, you measure out 1lb of sugar to each pint of juice (this recipe gives approx. 1 pint of juice). Then you make it as you would jam by boiling till it sets. Then comes the hard part - getting it in those jars before it cools and without the scum. I did not succeed on either attempt, but the second was better than the first, so I guess it just takes lots of practice. But the jelly must be poured hot if you want a clear, consistent jelly. This recipe makes about 1.5 jars, so have a small jar ready in case there isn't sufficient for two big ones (you should do that anyway - I always have a small jar ready for the dregs, which I keep in my cupboard to taste occasionally, because I'm on a diet and am not eating bread and jam till after the Garden Show in September).

Chinese vegetables

2010-08-05T22:09:00.004+01:00

These are growing on the Chinese girl's plot. One seems to be some sort of cucumber. The other, I haven't got a clue.

Potatoes and carrots

2010-08-05T22:03:00.003+01:00

These are Chantenay Red Cored carrots and Edgecote Purple 2nd early potatoes.

My carrots have done marvellously well this year. I covered them with fleece until they were bursting out of it, and it has been so dry there have been no slugs. I have never been able to grow carrots before, but this year they are enormous.

The Edgecote Purple potatoes, though pretty, explode when cooked. If you could keep them from doing that, they would be lovely - perhaps steam them. I've finished them now, though.

Angelina's back!

2010-07-28T07:46:00.003+01:00

Anglelina's back, and when I went past last night she was in histrionics about the marrows. "He hasn't been watering them!" she said. "He has!" I insisted. "I have the photo to prove it!" I doubt if she understood the last bit. Should I print her off a copy to prove it and get him out of the dog house?

(Angelina is one of three Italian women who won't allow me to photograph her, sadly. But I shall keep trying).

Domenico

2010-07-28T07:42:00.002+01:00

This is Domenico, Joe's son. He comes down almost daily in this dry weather to carry water from the trough on my allotment to the barrels on Joe's.

The communal allotment, Plot 45

2010-07-27T23:45:00.002+01:00

Another case of watch this space, because I think this is going to change a lot and very rapidly.

Simon's given up!!!

2010-07-27T23:39:00.002+01:00

As I was passing on my way to steal some wood from the Salvation Army allotment to light my bonfire, I asked Big John what had happened to Simon (Plots 68 & 69). I haven't seen him for ages and his plots are completely neglected. Now Simon really would win a competition for neatest English allotment, so I was beginning to think he must have had an accident with a chainsaw or something (God forbid: he's a tree surgeon). John said he had given up and wasn't coming back. I was aghast. It's not as if he has far to come - his house backs on to his plot. I know his wife had another baby recently, and has gone back to work, so I suppose he must just be too busy. But I'd never have expected Simon of all people to give up his allotment. I am shocked.

Carmela, Plot 336

2010-07-27T23:22:00.002+01:00

This is Carmela. She is related to someone on the right hand side as you walk from my allotment to the top gate - Joe, I think she said (but which one?). She has three sons and two daughters (or was it the other way round?). One of her sons, Mario, runs the Fabbio Restaurant in Regent Circus. She says he uses her courgettes in the restaurant.
She comes from Filadelfia, like Tomaso, and is going there for three weeks on holiday next week. She says she no longer has any family there, but she has a house and friends, and her friends take her to the beach every day. I said, wasn't it too hot at this time of year, and she said, no, it's high up so it's cool and breezy.

The Shed, Chapter 83

2010-07-27T08:31:00.002+01:00

I wrote to my oldest friend, Steve, mentioning the shed, and he wrote back to say "I would love to help you with your shed. I have the tools and have plenty of experience putting them up and making repairs. Perhaps I could arrange to come down sometime over summer to give you a hand."
I wrote back telling him I was about to offer my hand in marriage to the man who mended my shed for me (except that this would probably put them off); I also offered to pay to put him up in a B & B for the duration of operations. But alas, he texted me back to say "I think that the best time for me to work on your shed would be in September. It would be easier for me with the school holidays over and the weather is still good then. It will be cooler too."
Is he getting cold feet? I hope not. I might battle on alone - men have offered to mend my shed before and fallen by the wayside, and although I've made a start, it is far from watertight. I can't do anything with the bottom end of my allotment until the shed issue is sorted out - no chicken huts, no grape trellises, just brambles (but the blackberries are already ripening and they are stonkers after all the sun we've been having). Watch this space.

Derek, Plots 41 & 42

2010-07-27T08:23:00.003+01:00

This is Derek. I think his plots (41 & 41) are strong contenders for the prize of best kept English allotment. Earlier this year he had some splendid asparagus (see behind him in photo).

Gwillym

2010-07-27T08:13:00.003+01:00

This is Gwillym, one of Taffy's sons. He reminds me of my brother David who, from an early age was capable of many practical feats: I saw Gwillym laying out the flower beds on the communal plot with a piece of string, some posts and a hammer on his own one evening. Taffy's kids take a full part in looking after the chickens and working on the allotment: I often see one cycling by with the allotment key dangling round his neck on his way to feeding the chickens. This is how childhood should be spent, out in the open air doing things, learning about food and nature and how to be self-reliant and self-sufficient. This is the sort of childhood I and my brothers and sisters had (perhaps it's the Welsh background - my father was born not far from where Taffy comes from).

Taffy, Plots 24 & 25

2010-07-24T21:01:00.007+01:00

This is Mark Rothwell, aka Taffy, the allotment rep for the bottom half of Pickards Field. Since starting on his plots last year, he and his family have brought a huge amount of enthusiasm and innovation to the site. I think it was they who introduced the first chickens to the allotments (he has three in the ark in the picture), and their surveillance has transformed the bottom end from the no-go area it once was to a thriving community. Now, with the Allotment Officer's consent, they have started a communal plot (Plot 45), on which they have started to install flowers, a seating area and a barbeque area. The idea is for people to sit around and have a beer and a chat after work is done. Taffy's our very dedicated allotment rep, and because of him I've just decided to carry on as rep for my end, having thrown in the towel a few months ago.

Ted and Jan Smith, Plot 44

2010-07-24T20:54:00.002+01:00

This is Ted and Jan Smith on Plot 44. They have had their plot less than a year and have it all under cultivation. They had a plot down the bottom but it got burnt out, so they asked to be moved to this one further up.
I remarked on how well they'd done, saying that I was still clearing mine. "But there's two of you," I said. "One and a half," said Ted, and I thought he was making a joke at his wife's expense. But he said he was the "half" because he had a bad chest, and Jan did all the digging. She had dug out all the couch grass when they got the plot, coming down through the winter to do so. They live quite a way away too, which is why they've brought their lunch. "It's all right on a day like this," said Ted, "but not so nice in the middle of winter, when it's freezing cold and you're huddling in the shed for warmth. The cold affects my chest and I find it hard to breathe." He used to be a bricklayer.

Tomatoes with curling leaves

2010-07-24T20:50:00.002+01:00

Following on from the last post, here are my Tigerella tomatoes looking a bit sorry for themselves. Joe told me I put too much Bordeaux Mixture on them. I don't know whether the leaves are curling because of that, or whether it's the start of the dreaded blight.

Spraying my potatoes

2010-07-24T20:44:00.002+01:00

Today I sprayed my maincrop potatoes with Bordeaux Mixture against potato blight. So far, there's been little sign of it, but this is the time it strikes. Ted Smith (Plot 44) was telling me today that for blight to thrive it requires the Smith factor: a certain degree of humidity and a certain temperature. So far this year it hasn't had that combination. It has been incredibly dry for the last month at least, and what rain there has been seems to have passed Swindon by altogether. But that could all change overnight.

The Sainsbury Sisters, Plot 50

2010-07-24T20:35:00.005+01:00

These two women took over plot 50 last year (I think) and have done marvellously. I don't know their names, but I think of them as the Sainsbury Sisters because one of them arrives in a Sainsbury's uniform. I don't even know if they're sisters - they don't look it. They are of the "Good Life"* class of gardener, who usually come in with great ambitions, dig a few yards, put a sheet of plastic down and that's that; only this time, they stuck with it.
*That's what the old man on Plot 88 calls them - he's seen them come and go in his time (he lives in a house backing on to his plot).

(Later: they are sisters. The one on the left is Christina (Tina for short); the other is Anita).

Raspberries

2010-07-24T20:30:00.002+01:00

This is one of the raspberry plants given me by Shirley. They survived a winter with their feet in the water because it was so wet and I'd planted them right on the edge of the allotment where there is a dip and the clay is very close to the surface. Now they are prey to the bindweed that takes advantage of Joe's fence to lurk and grab. The raspberries themselves are coming off at rate of about one a day, but this is the first year, and I think they may be meant to fruit in the autumn anyway. I'm always surprised when I eat one though how much flavour and the essence of raspberry you can get from just one fruit. I'm hoping there'll be enough for jam next year.

Marjoram or oregano?

2010-07-24T20:26:00.002+01:00

This massive marjoram plant got out of hand when it flowered under my strawberry netting and threatened to burst out. Now the strawberries are finished, I've uncovered it so that the bees can enjoy it.
I don't know whether it's marjoram or oregano, or whether in fact they are the same thing.

Joe's straw hat

2010-07-24T20:23:00.001+01:00

A lot of the Italian men have lovely straw hats which they wear in hot weather. This is Joe's.

Veronica, Plot 361

2010-07-24T20:19:00.003+01:00

This is Rafelli's wife, Veronica, tying her tomatoes.

Gherkin

2010-07-24T18:08:00.003+01:00

This is one of my gherkin plants, and my one and only gherkin. I have five or six plants, which I bought at Dauntsey car boot sale, all with tiny tiny gherkins on them, which I hope to pickle when they are big enough. But I don't know what you can do with just one gherkin.

Later. I gave Joe my first gherkin. He told me you can eat them raw in salads. Later still. I tried it. They are horrid.

Deanna

2010-07-24T18:00:00.002+01:00

This is Deanna. I don't know what number her plot is because none of the plots in her row has a number. It is close to the gate at the bottom end of the site. She lives in the house by the gate, so she hasn't got far to walk, and she cultivated a lot of her plot with a mini-rotovator which worked on electricity, with a long extension lead running from her house.
I think she started last year, and she has done quite well for her first year. She seems to know what she's doing, but the eye-opener talking to her was her knowledge of food and cookery. I gave her some cabbage plants earlier on this year, and she wants to make sauerkraut out of them. This involves steeping the cabbage in a crock with salt and pressing a lid down as the cabbagey mixture sinks. She has also pickled her courgettes.
I was curious about her name and she said her grandmother came over from America, and that she has got numerous relations on the east coast of America. She wants to go there next year to visit them.

Angelina's on holiday

2010-07-24T17:55:00.002+01:00

Angelina has gone on holiday for a few weeks to Italy. She went in November last year, but this year she had to go in the summer. Her son has been keeping her plot watered for her through the dry spell and using some of the veg, but her marrows have gone mad, and she has got dozens of them, and all the plants have grown together, so that if you try to pick the marrows your hands will get scratched on the prickles (marrow leaves can be nasty and prickly).

The Shed

2010-07-18T23:35:00.004+01:00

I took Greg down the allotment to see if I could persuade him to help me mend the shed. He took one look at it and laughed, and like all the other men so far who I've asked, said I'd be better off buying a new one. I intend to prove them all wrong, and shall damn well fix it myself.

Cucumber and Marigolds

2010-07-18T23:28:00.003+01:00

I had my first cucumber this week. I have grown Burpless Tasty Green this year, a huge improvement on last year's bog standard ridge, and on shop bought cucumbers for that matter.

They grow to a good size and are very sweet, with thin skins.

The Marigolds are an Afro-French F1 Hybrid from Suttons called F1 Hybrid Super Double Mix. I grew them to ward off greenfly, etc., but all they seem to be doing (apart from looking ornamental) is crowding out the tomatoes.

My allotment yesterday

2010-07-18T23:15:00.003+01:00

This is how the allotment is looking at the moment. I have at last started digging the bit at the top by the tank, much to the delight of all my neighbours. It's quite easy to dig at the moment, because the soil is so dry it just falls off the weed roots. I've transplanted a lot of French bean plants there, and Tomaso gave me some broccoli, which I've put there too (under the hoops). I'm not sure what kind of broccoli it is. He gave me some Calabrese last year, which was wonderful, but I'm not sure if this is the same. The leaves are long and narrow, like an Italian vegetable called (in my seed catalogue) Nero di Toscana Precoce.

Greg's vine support

2010-07-18T23:09:00.002+01:00

My brother Greg came round yesterday to build a vine support for me outside my back door. He did it in the time it took me to make him a salad. The packet of vine eyes I bought from Wickes which I thought contained 10, contained only 9, and on closer examination, the packet said "approx. 10"!

The grapevine has already curled one of its tendrils around the wire.

Joe and tomatoes

2010-07-18T23:01:00.002+01:00

Joe told me off for putting too much Bordeaux Mixture on my tomatoes. I told him I'd measured it carefully according to the instructions, but he said I might kill the tomatoes. I see what he means - it might stop their leaves breathing.
I asked him whether he'd sprayed his tomatoes yet, and he said yes, twice. I hadn't seen any of the telltale blue on them, and he explained that he had started using some ghastly chemical beginning with Di-. My other neighbours are using it too - they nearly gassed me with it a couple of days ago. Mind you, the leaves of my tomatoes are looking very curled. But I need to look into this Di- stuff before I use it.

Tomatoes

2010-07-16T21:26:00.003+01:00

The tomatoes in my mini-greenhouse are like triffids. These are them after I chopped off their heads. There are two Gardener's Delight, and two Tigerella. Both are very bushy. They are planted in two enormous tubs containing the contents of two grow-bags. In the front are some pepper plants. These never come to much on the allotment, so I thought I'd try them here, but they are not doing much better (perhaps because they are being bullied by the tomatoes).

Grapevine

2010-07-16T21:15:00.008+01:00

Angelo gave me a grape vine he'd grown from a pip. I decided to plant it outside my back door. There was some wooden trellis there when I moved in that had supported a clematis, but every year the clematis got mildew and the flowers were few and died. I decided to use the trellis for the vine, so I dug up the clematis and put in the grapevine instead. I had some Morning Glory plants, too, and I planted one next to it. But the grapevine didn't like that kind of support, and what was worse, it was attacked by some kind of leaf miner that seemed to emanate from the trellis. So I have taken the trellis down, and taken it down the allotment to use as firewood, and I have asked Greg to come and see me and bring a heavy-duty drill so that I can put up some wires to support the grapevine. He is coming tomorrow. Meanwhile the grapevine and the Morning Glory are clinging to each other for support.

Someone down the allotments has got a grapevine, and has a full-sized wire support. I am envious. One day I might have my own down there, though I think it might be too cold down there: it is warmer outside my back door. Dom says they have a grapevine in their greenhouse at home. And of course Joe makes his own wine from grapes brought on a lorry from Italy every year.

Blackcurrant jam

2010-07-16T20:52:00.005+01:00

Today I made some blackcurrant jam. It took me an hour (at least) last night and two hours (at least) this morning to top and tail a pound and a half of blackcurrants. I put these with a pound and a half of sugar and steeped them overnight/over the afternoon. Then I added three-quarters of a pint of water and brought it all to the boil in my new preserving pan. I then added a further pound of sugar (warmed in the oven), and boiled it until it reached setting point (220 degrees). The jam is gorgeous, though not as gorgeous as my strawberry jam, which tastes ineffable (I'm not sure what that means, but it appears in hymns when talking about God, so it seems about right).

I got the blackcurrants off Hazel's allotment, and this is the sad part. Hazel (plots 54 and 55) is so ill she can no longer do her garden, and her husband is looking after it for her. But he's not obsessed like she is, and it is going downhill. Joe (plots 56 and 58) offered to do some hoeing and watering for her, though he's got his work cut out on his own two plots, and is also looking after Angelo's plot while he's on holiday in Italy. Yesterday, when I arrived, Domenico (Joe's son) was there, and he asked me, in his slightly goofy way how to pick blackcurrants. He said Hazel's husband had told Joe to help himself, as they were going to waste. Well, I got a bucket and followed him over to Hazel's plot. He lost interest a bit when I told him you have to top and tail them if you want to stew them or anything, and after a phone call he left me to it. But not before I'd noticed her raspberry canes and gooseberry bushes, the latter laden with ripe fruit. I said to Dom, do you think she'd mind if I took some of those too? He said he didn't think she would, so I got enough raspberries for a snackette at supper time, and enough gorgeous ripe gooseberries to make a gooseberry crumble for my brother, Greg, who's coming up tomorrow (I am trying to persuade him to help me mend the shed). So I returned home in seventh heaven, while poor Hazel is probably heartbroken that she can't make any jam this year. I felt guilty about picking from her fruit bushes after Dom was gone, but I guess she intended the stuff to go to a good home, and I can't imagine Domenico doing anything much with the blackcurrants. (He didn't even know what elderberries were - he thought they were poisonous. Unless he's confusing them with ivy berries, in which case, I told him you could make an excellent wine out of them).

Allotment representative

2010-03-01T14:50:00.002Z

I've been accepted as the allotment rep for the top half of Pickards Field. In the newsletter on the back of the last bill, Emma was asking for volunteers, and I volunteered largely in order to be able to get in touch with her occasionally, because normally Joe Public finds this impossible.

One of my duties is to keep an eye on who is and who isn't cultivating their plot. So I had a look today, and will send my report to Emma later today.

We had our first meeting a few weeks ago. It was a shambles. More on it later.

Season coming!

2010-03-01T14:44:00.002Z

It is the first day of Spring! And it's living up to it, too. It's very sunny, but the ground is soaked. I went down the allotment for only the second time in about three months, and saw Joe just as he was leaving. He was truly fed up at not being able to get started. If it hasn't snowed over since December, it's rained.

I couldn't do anything either. I'd planned to plant my shallots, despite the fact that someone has stolen the boards I used to stand on, but found out on arrival that I'd taken down the onion sets instead. The garlic I bought a month ago had rotted in the bag; but I have a row of garlic planted last year that is doing well. The broad beans are also doing well, but the brassicas are all ruined, because I didn't cover them and the pigeons ate them. Joe told me off for this. There are leeks and parsnips, but it's been too wet to dig them up.

Garlic

2009-07-13T22:38:00.002+01:00

I dug up all my garlic today. It was about to flower - just about every plant had a spindly flower stalk growing out of it. I waited till there were no Italians around to criticise what I was doing, or to laugh at the size of my bulbs (they are very small). I didn't know whether I ought to leave them longer, but we've been lucky with the weather, and I didn't want the garlic getting sodden if we have rain and going mouldy. Back at home, I made some French dressing with the garlic and some wine vinegar and olive oil and doused Angelo's infernal lettuce in it. It is delicious, but you can't eat it the night before you have to go to work.

Cathedrals for the veg

2009-07-10T22:53:00.003+01:00

These are the tunnels I've been building out of net curtains, bamboo poles and bent coat hangers to stop the butterflies laying their eggs on my brassicas. The Brussels sprouts were nurtured under fleece, and grew like triffids. I have never grown brassicas so fleshy and immaculate as these - but I can't believe I'll manage to keep all the pests off. The whitefly have already wheedled their way in.

Rosemary

2009-07-10T22:49:00.002+01:00

Someone planted this rosemary bush on my allotment while I wasn't looking!

Chris, Plot 334, arson.

2009-07-10T22:38:00.002+01:00

This is Chris, whom I met today. I hadn't noticed him before, but that's because his plot is way down the end over the other side. He rolled up in his Land Rover and started telling me this horror story about how his shed had been burnt down last year. Since then, he said, he hasn't been able to use his plot because the firemen said it would be too polluted. In his shed were sacks of fertilizer and plastic sacks and other objects. The smoke from these was so noxious that the firemen had to don masks to fight the fire.

Chris said the fire had been set after an incident involving four teenagers/children. He'd seen them on the allotment and told them to leave. They were very lippy and refused, but he was adamant and they went. Days later, their father saw him coming out of the allotments and came and stood in front of his Land Rover, saying "Come on then!" and threatened him because of the way he'd spoken to his children (which wasn't angry or rough). He replied "That's what I call dragging up your kids, not bringing them up." The bloke blustered back saying, "I know which your allotment is!" A few days later, his shed had been burnt down.

He told the police the whole story afterwards, but they said, "If they're from Tree Courts, you haven'g got a hope in hell of nailing them." What a bloody attitude - 'let them get on with it'! It just about sums up the official apathy where the yobs round here are concerned.

Pigeon peas

2009-07-10T22:33:00.004+01:00

Angelo gave me a huge bag of pigeon peas. The plants look just like broad beans, but the pods are much smaller, and the peas are bigger than ordinary peas, but taste like broad beans without the charm. You feel they are doing you good, but so they ought to after you've spent so long shelling them - they're very fiddly. It will take me two weeks to eat the ones Angelo has given me. He also gave me about six lettuces because they were about to bolt, which means I have to put mine on the back burner (while they bolt too). Today, Joe, his brother, offered me more pigeon peas and lettuces. I politely refused.

Andy, Plot 352a

2009-07-10T22:30:00.001+01:00

This is Andy, the new tenant of Plot 352a.

Water trough

2009-07-10T22:23:00.002+01:00

My new water trough - hurrah!

Update

2009-07-09T21:45:00.009+01:00

I have been struggling for the past few days to get into my blogging account after such a long time, and have only just succeeded.

Of course, we're half-way through the season, and I've not written a thing about how it's going. Where do I start? Maybe with a summary, or a bullet-point list of all the important new developments, which I can come back to later.

So:

Water troughs! Hurrah, hurrah! The council has finally got round to installing the promised water trough on MY allotment! July 1st was Water Trough day, and when it was finally up and running, so many people tried to use it all at once that it was nearly emptied and they then complained that it wasn't filling up fast enough.

Gli italiani. The wonderful brothers Joe and Angelo are proving excellent neighbours, and I have an open invitation to borrow Joe's zappa (italian hoe), which has made life so much easier. Angelo has promised to bring me one back from Italy in August, and Joe said that when someone asked who I was, he said I was his cousin.

New arrivals. Two of note: Ken (opposite me, Plot 348), and Andy (a little further down on the other side, Plot 352a). Ken has a half-plot and plenty of family members to help him work it. He is very friendly and chatty and has taken early retirement from Royal Mail. He's on holiday in Scotland at the moment. Andy is from Glasgow and is a self-employed computer programmer. He is also very chatty and great fun. He has charmed Angelina, and even made her laugh (she usually moans about everything). He is thinking of retraining as a teacher. I think he'd make a good one. He knows nothing about gardening, but is making a good go of his half-plot, thanks to hard work and many donated plants.

The family-from-hell are still causing problems. My neighbours the other side say they have a ladder which they use to get over the fence on to his shed roof and down via his picnic table, and that they have now stolen two old doors which he was using to hold his manure in place. They know this because their picnic table was broken and they saw white paint on top of the fence.

Lots and lots of other things, but that's enough for now.

The pictures show what the Family-from-hell did to the lovely privet bush that was overhanging my shed. Big John actually saw him climb over the fence to cut it back on MY SIDE.

Apart from that...

2009-04-03T22:05:00.004+01:00

Apart from that, Spring is here, and I've regained my enthusiasm, and am spending hours and hours down the allotment. It's mostly spent digging couch grass, but it's pleasant enough in the sun. I get endless advice from the Italians. One day, I had no fewer than three of them tell me I should be using a fork not a spade. I don't think they realised that my soil is so compacted, damp and clayey that it sticks to a fork, and you just end up with a great big lump on it and break your back.

Anyhow, it's getting dryer by the day, and I can use a fork now, though I still have to spend hours picking couch roots out of each clod. I had a bonfire tonight and burned a dustbin-full. And of course, it's springing up immortal and the top end is starting to look as if I never dug it at all. I'm contemplating Glyphosate (aaagh!), on that end at least, because I'll never conquer it otherwise. I was going to use ammonium sulphamate, only to find it's been banned by the EU, despite being safer than Glyphosate, and is now only available illegally over the internet. And of course it is expensive. The fact is, at the moment I can't afford either, so it's all academic.

Meanwhile, I do a bit a day, and though I've got a lot left that I haven't even touched yet, I managed to turn over a lot before the winter weather got too bad, and that broke down (on top at least) to a fine hoe-able tilth. So I had a good surface for my seeds, albeit riddled at both sides of the plot with lurking weed roots.

More bloody vandalism!

2009-04-03T21:48:00.004+01:00

I went down the allotment early three days ago, only to find that the padlock had been cut off with a pair of bolt cutters. Chris tells me today that another shed was burnt down recently, though I haven't seen it. I phoned the Allotment Officer as soon as I saw what they'd done to the padlock, but she can't have got my message, because it wasn't dealt with until the next day (she only works part-time). She's put a temporary padlock on there, but we've already been given new keys for the new locks they'll be fitting on May 1st. These will be super-duper burglar-proof locks, but knowing our vandals, they'll find some way to get in and cause misery. (The picture shows the remains of the old padlock, which was welded on to the chain, and the new one, which is just slotted in).

I don't know what can be done about this problem. I know the Allotment Officer reports it to the Police, but what do they do? The problem is that a group of youths from Pinehurst is targeting the allotments as the venue for their drunken/drugged rampages. Putting up a fence and padlocking the gate just seems to incite them. They would argue it's because they've nothing to do, but that's a pathetic excuse. The fact is, they find it funny to burn things down, and to break into our shop and when they don't find money, to burn that down too. They probably talk about it next day, saying, "You should have seen the flames - they were sky high! It was funny as fuck!" What can you do against that sort of mentality.

I said to Chris, I'd like to go down there at night with a shotgun. He said, I think there's a lot of people would like to do that. But we've got to leave it up to our Allotment Officer to sort out, though God knows what she can do. It's enough to make you want to set up a posse of vigilantes, though. Big John said he had his shed broken into, too, though his shed is the other end, and could have been a sensible thief who wanted to find something to sell. I can understand that. But these kids - or rather, their ringleader - is, I think, sick, and needs to be taken out of circulation before he sets fire to a place with someone living in it. He's obviously a true fire-bug, and enjoys setting fires in a pathological way.

More snow

2009-02-07T18:41:00.003Z

I walked down the allotment today just to drop off some compost. It was really an excuse to walk through some virgin snow again. Someone had driven and someone else walked down the main track, but the other track was untrodden - all my footsteps of the other day had been filled in by another fall of snow. All there were were the barely-visible prints of cats, the loping stride of foxes, and the patterings of crows and pigeons.

On my way home, I saw these catkins - reminder that this will soon be over, and that spring is on the way.

Snow!

2009-02-05T20:42:00.002Z

I went for a walk down the allotment in the snow this afternoon. I could tell from the footprints that I was only the second person who had been there. It was wonderful walking in the virgin snow. There were lots of tracks of birds and foxes.

Nothing was visible through the snow on the Cat Alloment. I examined the purple-sprouting broccoli on the Salvation Army allotment, and it seems to be being eaten by something - probably the pigeons, but also possibly by some sort of grub. It was badly attacked by both caterpillars and whitefly last summer, so maybe it's the grubs of one of those. Anyway, it's affecting the florets badly - they look as if they'll be useless. You never know, though, they might turn out all right when it gets a bit warmer.

More vandalism

2009-01-28T20:52:00.003Z

I haven't been down the allotment much these last two months. It's been too wet and too cold.

When I did go down a couple of weeks ago, however, this is what I found. The allotment shop, which is run by volunteers, old men, had been broken into by vandals. The till had been taken out and burned, and papers scattered everywhere.

I wouldn't have liked to have been those old men when I discovered the break-in. I should think it must have been heartbreaking. They run the shop out of pure enthusiasm for gardening, just as the Allotment Society they belong to has been run for years out of enthusiasm and goodwill. Now, just like that, for a bit of "fun" on a Saturday night, years of work have been destroyed. I dread to think what state the inside of the shop was in - probably it, too, was burned out - i.e. all that stock destroyed. Stock that had no value to anyone but the old men and the gardeners. I would be very surprised to see the shop open up again next season. There comes a point where you just feel like going back to your house and sitting in front of your telly for the rest of your life - at least it's safe, and there is no chance of heart-sinking disappointment.

Up my end of the allotments, I seem to be out of it. It is too close to the houses for kids to risk being seen. But what with having to start on what is now an unforgiving piece of couch-ridden, waterlogged clay, I too feel that it might be better just to sit in front of the telly all summer, or bugger off to France. Only I can't afford to. I need the vegetables I grow. On £60.50 a week, you can't pass up any chance of supplementing your diet virtually for free. I expect my enthusiam will return. After all, there are green shoots of recovery down my allotment, if nowhere else - the runner beans have come up. And I managed, before I came down with flu, to put in a row of shallots, saved from last year. So I'm going to stick with it. After all, why let them win?

More arson

2008-11-28T17:48:00.004Z

More evidence of the sheer imbecility of certain people in Pinehurst. If they'd had any brains at all they would at least have removed the tools before they burnt down these sheds, so that they could sell them at a car boot sale and make more money to spend on booze or drugs. I hadn't been down the allotments for a week because of the weather, and this was what I found when I did.

What annoys me - one of the things that annoy me - is that these sheds usually belong to old men whose greatest pleasure in life is their garden. They haven't enough money to buy a new set of tools, and after this, would they have the heart?

Portrait of Joe

2008-11-27T10:51:00.002Z

This is my best photo of Joe, my next-door neighbour. I took it in 2007 with my film camera. Joe insisted on paying me for a print, which he sent to his granddaughter in London.

Joe #3, Plot 354

2008-11-27T10:24:00.004Z

This is the man whom I referred to in my earlier blogs as "the miserable git" because he was always complaining about something or other (e.g. Hazel's partner asking for the gate to be left unlocked). Well, I misjudged him. He seems to be okay. I had a long conversation with him about a fortnight ago about just about everything, though I can't remember what now. His name is Joe (yes, another Joe, the third), and his real name is Giuseppe.

This is a photograph I took of him rotovating his plot in autumn of 2007, before I knew any of the Italians, and just wanted to document their Italianness and their gardening methods (both of which remain important aims for me).

I love the colour of this photo, which is entirely accidental, and results from scanning black and white film with a colour scanner.

Magdalena (?), plots 66 & 67

2008-11-27T10:13:00.003Z

This is a photo of the lady whose family owns plots 66 and 67. I think her name is Magdalena. I photographed her with black and white film in the summer of 2007. She is married to an English man, whose name escapes me at the moment, but who, last time I asked him, didn't want me to photograph him (he's the bloke who told me I was making it hard for myself trying to dig the whole of the Cat allotment over at first instead of clearing a small part of it).

Magdalena seems very sweet, and is ill at the moment. John tells me that she insisted on getting the allotment in order before going into hospital. She works like a trooper on the allotment, hoeing with the best of them. At the end of this season, the whole family came down one day and cleared almost everything off the two allotments, and then it was down to the English man to dig them over. I can understand his reluctance to be photographed when he was sweating in the sun fit for a heart attack. When he's with them, he speaks English - I wonder if he can speak Italian?

Giovanni planting chicons

2008-11-14T23:16:00.002Z

This is Italian John (Giovanni), plot 82, planting his chicons. He puts in a lot more than I did, and he doesn't bother to set them upright. Also, he puts them in quite a deep trench (about a foot deep).

Strawberry plants

2008-11-12T22:06:00.002Z

John gave me some strawberry plants today. He is digging up part of his patch, because it's getting far too big, so he offered me some plants. I was going to take the ones off the Salvation Army allotment, as they are clearly not appreciated by any of them, but he said, leave them there, and have some of these for the Cat allotment. I was only just thinking as I walked down there today that I ought to get some strawberries established down there as soon as possible, because the sooner I plant them, the sooner I'll have fruit, regardless of how clean the soil is. I can take the weeds out later. And like John said, I like cooking and I particularly like home made strawberry jam!

Now THAT's what you call Catalogna!

2008-11-12T22:01:00.002Z

This is Vito taking home his Catalogna.

Broad beans

2008-11-11T22:08:00.003Z

Today I sowed my first seeds on the Cat Allotment. I put in two double rows of broad beans. I had finally got round to cycling to Ron's Stores in Rodbourne, where they sell them loose. I bought a cupful for £2.20, and had so many that even though I put two in every hole, I still had enough for a second row. There's no way I can eat that many beans, but they're good for the garden, so I sowed them anyway. You never know, I might find enough old ladies to give them to by next July.

I had to hoe down a strip of dug soil about a yard wide before I sowed them. The Italian hoe Joe gave me is useless - every time I use it, the head falls off. But if it didn't, it would be a 100% improvement on the titchy hoe I've got now. I simply must get a decent Italian hoe by next Spring!

My Fence

2008-11-11T21:59:00.002Z

When I went down today, the first thing I noticed was that the Council had already been and mended the gap next to the gate where the vandals had been getting in. I thought it would be too much to hope for them to have done my fence too, but they had. And what a wonderful job they've made of it! I'm absolutely over the moon with it. I can relax now, safe in the knowledge that the Family-from-Hell can no longer just nip over the fence and steal anything burnable. It would take quite a lot for them to get over that fence - it would take an effort, for one thing, and that in itself is enough of a deterrent.

How they got in

2008-11-11T21:49:00.003Z

The vandals were getting in through a hole they had cut in the fence down the bottom. The Allotment Officer had that mended, but they found another way in. It was so obvious that no-one noticed it. There we were, busily unlocking and locking the gate, when all you had to do was slip through the gap beside it. I did, and if I could, a kid could do so far more easily.

How some people celebrated Bonfire Night this year

2008-11-11T21:27:00.004Z

The local morons celebrated November 5th this year by coming on to the allotments and vandalising a large number of sheds. They even burned one down. I was there when the guy turned up and saw it. He had already heard that it had been burnt down and took it exceptionally well. He's a really nice old guy - wouldn't hurt a fly. His wife said he'd already taken all his tools home and left the shed unlocked, because it had been broken into before. It's as if they wanted to get to him no matter what - but it wasn't personal: at least half a dozen more sheds had been broken into. And the vandals used no finesse, as you can see from these photographs.

Waterlogged

2008-11-05T06:43:00.002Z

To top it all, I am now digging a waterlogged allotment. The water is lying just below the surface from about half way down. Doesn't bode well if we have another wet summer.

Close encounters

2008-11-05T06:26:00.003Z

Two days ago I had my first direct encounter with the Family-from-Hell. Fortunately I was not alone, or it would have been war.

I had met the Allotment Officer as I was going into the allotments. She was going to see Franco (whose surname, I was delighted to discover, is Virgilio), who was complaining about the state of the track and the rubbish he's suddenly discovered he has after the fence-makers moved it all in order to build their fence. Afterwards, she came down to the Cat Allotment in order to have another look at the fence.

We had wandered down towards the fence and had a peep across it into the Family-from-Hell's garden, and I'd pointed out the hearth there, which must be 10 ft across and is surrounded by stones.

We were wandering back up the garden, deep in conversation, when we heard a voice behind us shouting "Oi! What do you think you're looking at?"

We turned around and saw an irate-looking woman of about 27 with horribly dyed hair (bottle blonde with a streak of pure black). She continued to harangue us for a few minutes about looking in her garden. She was evidently very suspicious of us, and probably feeling guilty about having stolen my wood and was trying to cover it up. It was quite frightening for me because I had never spoken to her before or done anything wrong apart from look over the fence, yet she had already decided to victimise me. But I kept quiet and let the Allotment Officer speak.

She was very tactful, and said, "We're not looking in your garden. I'm the Allotment Officer, and I've come to look at this allotment." We turned away from her, and heard her say, to get the last word in, "Well, don't go looking in my garden!"

I was very shaken, and it is frightening to think she might come out again and start haranguing me while I'm there alone, especially now that I seem to be the only person down there most of the time.

Later on, to make matters worse, four children came out of another garden two houses up, and started running up and down the path of Chris's allotment, and yelling at the builders who are building an extension on the other side of the allotments. John had told me about these kids when he was making my compost bin. There isn't even a door, just a gap in the fence. I had pointed out this gap in the fence to the Allotment Officer too, and she said she would eventually try to have it patched up, but it was a question of money and getting the contractors to do it. She has the same difficulty I have with getting the Council to do anything. You just have to keep on at them till you're blue in the face.

All in all, I came away feeling scared and victimised, and it detracts from my pleasure of being there. I dread to think what the Family-from-Hell's reaction will be when the fence eventually does go up - no doubt they'll blame me for that, and will victimise me all the more until I can grow a bramble big enough to shut them out entirely.

Chicons

2008-10-31T18:05:00.002Z

Today I transplanted my chicons. These are for endives (Witloof-type). Giuseppe Greco (Joe #1)had told me twice after he gave me the plants that I would have to transplant them at the end of this month, and it being the 31st, I thought it was about time I got round to it.

I dug them up, cut the bottom of the root off so that it was about 2-3 inches long, and trimmed off most of the foliage. Then I made holes with a dibber at the bottom of a shallow trench I'd made, and put the "potatoes" (as Joe called them) into the holes and covered them over.

I have transplanted them on to the Salvation Army allotment, even though I told them I wouldn't be using it next year. I told them I had winter veg on it that I would want to harvest, and I think these endives count as winter veg. I'm not sure whether to plant my broad beans on that plot though. I think I'd rather start them off on the Cat Allotment, even though the soil isn't clean yet. I tested it today, and some of the soil I've turned over has already become crumbly to the prod of a spade, so it won't take as much as I thought to get it ready to plant. It might look like a ploughed field, but it will be quite easy to level it off, and once it starts to dry off again, to dig out the perennial weeds.

Swiss chard

2008-10-31T17:46:00.002Z

Thomas stopped to talk to me when he passed the Cat allotment. First of all, he told me off for working in the north wind, saying that I'd catch a cold - not now, but when I went home.

On the back of his bike in an orange string bag he had some white stalks with green leaves that were half as big as him. I asked him what they were, and he said they were spinach. He offered me some, and I accepted two stalks. He told me to chop them into 2-inch lengths and cook them in water, then serve them with a little salt and some garlic. He said his children liked them but his grandchildren didn't. I said that was because they were English.

I brought them home and cooked them, putting some chopped up stalks in my tomato sauce and cooking the rest as spinach. I expected them to be coarse and taste strong, but instead, the tops were just like spinach, and the stalks I had cooked with them were mild and delicate with an excellent texture. I later discovered that what I was eating was Swiss chard. Another vegetable to add to my repertoire.

Leaves

2008-10-30T21:27:00.004Z

When I got down the allotment today, a huge council tractor and trailer were just leaving. When I got further up the track, I could see that it had dumped of a trailer-load of leaves, swept up from the municipal parks and streets.

I'd been menaing to go out into the country and collect leaves, but this seemed a quick way of getting a supply, even if they weren't what Lawrence D. Hills would call the best type - not oak and beech (I still remember that book almost word for word, even though I owned it almost thirty years ago).

I decided to use the compost container Dee gave me, which I'd been using up till now on the Salvation Army allotment because I hadn't wanted to bother to build a compost bin on a plot that wasn't mine. I emptied that and carried it down to no. 59, where I attempted to secure it by slipping it over one of the metal poles Joe had used to fix his windbreak in place. Then I was going to fill it up by the bucket-load, but someone had abandoned a wheelbarrow on the vacant allotment next to the pile of leaves, so I borrowed that.

Later, when Joe came down, he said leaves are even better than manure. He said he used to be a cobbler, and he mended shoes for the nuns in Wroughton. He said that one of them used to collect leaves and she grew cabbages "...like that!"

I didn't get much digging done, because it took me about an hour to deal with the leaves, and almost as soon as I started to dig, it began to rain.

I went back to the SA allotment to shelter in the hut, and noticed that they'd been down and done some work since I was down last. I say "work", but all they seem to have achieved is to level out the soil nearest the hut, dig the edges and pile some of the grass on the weed-pile, and make a god-awful mess of the paths. John will be furious when he sees the state they've left his path in. It used to be a velvety lawn, but now it's a sea of mud. Poor John! Poor me - no chance I'll get it now, since they've clearly decided to ignore common sense and go for another year of turning over the same plot half a dozen times without taking the weeds out.

The first frost

2008-10-29T18:46:00.000Z

His wife, Anna, wasn't there today. He said she was in bed: she wasn't well - something to do with her legs. I don't blame her for taking a day off - it was freezing when I got there at 10 am - we'd had the first real frost of the winter (it has wiped out my nasturtiums), and this makes it the earliest deep frost for years (it's still only October, remember). But by mid-morning, John and I were sharing tea from his Thermos sitting in the sun outside his shed. Later, though, when it clouded over, it was very cold. It really smelt of winter.

Two Giuseppes and a Giovanni

2008-10-29T18:39:00.003Z

I am slowly working out who is who on the allotment. Joe #1's real name is Giuseppe Greco, and Joe #2's real name is Giuseppe Olivieri. John's (82) name is Giovanni. I think.

Frank (369/370) told me this when he passed the Salvation Army allotment on his way home. His real name is apparently Francesco Mackenzie. He says he's got Scottish ancestry. He had me believing him, but I think his name is really Vincenzi, not Mackenzie.

Compost bin

2008-10-29T18:30:00.003Z

Today, Big John and I built my compost bin - or should I say, John did, with me looking on and giving instructions.

There were only three fencing panels left, so it is a single compost bin. First, John sawed off about a quarter of the fencing panels so that what remained were only 3 ft high, and easily portable, as I had to carry them back down to no. 59. He'd brought some posts so that I didn't have to use the long posts I've got which I want to save for mending the shed.

When he'd built the bin, Joe #2 came along (that's his bike you can see in the background) and asked when I was getting the sheep.

We're going to continue the back of the bin along to form a windbreak. Eventually. But for now, I'm well content, because I've marked out my territory. Now no-one can say they didn't know someone was using that patch and chuck their rubbish on it.

The end of the Salvation Army allotment?

2008-10-28T20:05:00.003Z

I forwarded this email to the Allotment Officer, and she said she liked it, but having read it over, it seems very angry. Mind you, I've got every right to be angry. I told the Allotment Officer that if I was offered my half of the SA allotment in my name, I would accept it, because then I would know it was mine and that I wouldn't stand to be kicked off at the whim of the Salvation Army. But I was no longer prepared to "subsidise" them by working on it and keeping it up together, so that they could keep the plot because it was being cultivated, whereas if they have the whole plot to contend with, they don't stand an earthly of keeping it up together and will lose it at the end of next season. Also, if I had half, I stood a good chance of getting the other half when they realised they were only fooling themselves that it would come together.

She replied that they hadn't paid their rent on it yet this year, so if they didn't, she would happily sign it over to me.

So I'm wondering if the Salvation Army is really having second thoughts as to whether it's worth their while bothering next year. Mind you, I'm not holding out any hopes that they will come to their senses and hand it over to me. That would be too much to hope for!

Oh dear, the Salvation Army!

2008-10-28T19:16:00.003Z

At the same time as I got the email from the Allotment Officer, I had one from the Salvation Army, too. They were asking me whether I wanted to keep working on the bottom half of their allotment next year.

I was in a pretty bad mood at the time. I'd tried to phone the Allotment Officer and she wasn't there. I'd tried to phone the Neighbourhood Warden to complain about the Family-from-hell, but I got answered by some silly girl who put me back to the switchboard, which left me hanging on for three minutes, which cost me £2 on my mobile. When I phoned back to complain and to ask for the direct line, another girl got uppity with me. So I was all ready to take it out on someone. This is the email I sent back to the Salvation Army:

Dear Xxx,

Don't take this personally, but I'll be very blunt - who are you trying to kid that you will do any better next year on even a quarter of the allotment? The Salvation Army has had that plot for goodness knows how many years, and according to John, whose house backs on to it, and who has seen them come and go, it has always been the same - you get a few people up there for a few months, then it goes back to the state it was in at the end of this summer. When I lived in Davis House, I had a number of blokes coming to "help" me - none of them stayed for long. Even now, the weeds are coming back because none of your lot has ever bothered to dig the roots out, even though I dug that part over three times and they've dug it at least three more. During the last part of this summer, i.e. the harvest period, they only came down there once in six weeks. You can't run an allotment on that basis. You need to work hard on it for several hours at least one day a week (I would say two), and that's a bare minimum. Plus you need to have them properly supervised, because none of them have got a clue. If you can't promise that commitment, you should hand it over to someone who can. I had to watch a perfectly good piece of land that I had lovingly cultivated go completely to waste this year, and did not have enough land myself to grow sufficient food for myself.

The soil on the piece of land I have now is not nearly as good as that on the Salvation Army allotment, but I am digging it over ready to put into full production next year. I will not have the time or energy to cultivate both plots. If you ask me, it is your lot who should be starting from scratch, not me, as they are men and seem to be good at digging if nothing else. However, I have no expectations of my moral right to that plot being recognised, so I am going to leave it all to you. But I think that unless you come up with a better plan than you had this year (and don't make me laugh by talking about giving each resident his own raised bed - fix the shed before you think about wasting energy building raised beds), you will find that you are unable to keep even a quarter of it properly cultivated, and will thus be in danger of losing the plot by the end of the next season by which time I will be fully committed to my own plot. I have some vegetables on yours at the moment, which I want to harvest through the winter, but come the spring, I'm going to have to leave you to it. So, if I were you I should start thinking about organising a chain gang now, because that's the only way you're going to get that lazy lot working on it.

As I said, nothing personal, but I might as well be honest, even if undiplomatic. I wish you the best of luck - you're going to need it.

Regards Vieve

PS Thanks for letting me keep it up together for you up till now!

A theft, contd.

2008-10-28T18:56:00.002Z

The same evening, I emailed our Allotment Officer to tell her what had happened. On Monday, I tried to phone her as well, but she wasn't there, so I left a forceful voicemail message for her. About an hour later, I got an email back from her saying she'd asked the contractors to put up fencing between the Family-from-hell's house and mine and my neighbours' allotments. This would be the high, green metal fencing that they've used to fence round most of the allotment, so will be plenty high enough to deter these scavenging scroungers.

I told both the Joes and Franco about it. Both the Joes called the FFH 'bastards', and Joe #2 (no. 58) told me they'd pinched his tomato stakes on two occasions, and he'd come close to "putting a fork through their neck" when he'd remonstrated with them. He said he knew it was wrong but it would have been worth it. You'd never guess to look at him - he's as mild-mannered as they come. But a lot of these Italians served in the war, and would think nothing of stabbing a man. Franco pretended to be more laissez-faire, more philosophical. Perhaps because he's got so much rubbish on his allotments he wouldn't notice if any of it went missing.

A theft

2008-10-28T18:25:00.004Z

I had a theft from my allotment (no.59) last Friday night. Two of my fencing panels were taken from beside my shed. I strongly suspect that they were taken by the Family-from-hell, whose garden backs on to my allotment. They left two empty beer bottles as a calling-card, and I when I arrived on my allotment, I could see the smouldering remains of a bonfire on their garden. A day or two earlier I'd seen them light a bonfire, and the day before my fencing panels were taken, I saw a young man building a bonfire, on which he had piled, amongst other things, a plastic-covered easy chair.

I was half-expecting it, just not this soon. I thought at least they'd wait until nearer bonfire night, by which time John and I would have used the wood to make my compost bin. But no - what started out as six panels rescued from the pile outside the bungalow is now down to three. I dragged them all the way back to the Salvation Army allotment and hid them behind the shed, where I think they'll be safe, unless some maniac from the hostel takes it into his head to come and build a bonfire. I also cleared the shed of every bit of wood that I wanted to keep, which took me about an hour of walking up and down between the two, time which I had planned to spend digging.

Autunno

2008-10-23T22:30:00.005+01:00

A few of the scenes of autumn on the allotment. Marrows, plenty of marrows, on shed roofs, on the ground, everywhere. Grape must dumped on the plot ready to be dug in.

My nasturtiums, which didn't do much all summer, have now gone mad and are trailing all over the place.

At the same time, there have been lots of signs of a second spring, not least of which is my dandelions bursting into bloom. My strawberries are still in flower, and some primulas are flowering again, like these here a few weeks back and the cowslips in my garden at home.

Wood

2008-10-23T22:20:00.004+01:00

The Family-from-hell over the fence from the Cat allotment have taken to burning their rubbish in the garden, presumably because they keep forgetting to put the bins out and get up too late on dustbin day to rectify the matter. I am worried they will climb over the broken-down fence and start nicking wood from the allotment, so here is photographic evidence of the wood Big John's going to make my compost bin out of!

Frank and Anna

2008-10-23T22:04:00.003+01:00

Saw Frank and Anna today just as I got there. They were putting their tools away and going home with their rotovator (they'd just rotovated in their manure). Anna commented on the wind and the cold. She said it got into her hands - she's got arthritis. Then she pulled up her skirt and showed me the scar on her left knee where she's had her knee joint replaced. She walks with a bad limp. But despite all this, she digs better than most men, and she's down there every day with Frank working for hours. I saw her later pushing the rotovator home. When I offered to help her, she said, "You're very kind, but my husband..." and she indicated to Frank who was catching up behind.

I don't know why she has got her scarf in her mouth in this picture - perhaps it's to keep her face warm.

They asked me my name the other day, and when I told them it, Frank said, "Via? Via, eh? Via means road in Italian!" So now that's who I am. He always says "Hello, Via," when he sees me - which is nice.