Finally, I get down to the allotment to find the horrors that await

Thirty Streamline runner beans waiting for more rain

It has been a long time since I last went to the allotment, which is disappointing as one of the main reasons we bought our new house was to be close to it.

I bumped the RSA's Chief Executive Matthew Taylor on Wednesday as I attended a roundtable discussion on their 202 Public Service Hub's recent publication, the fascinating Business, society and public services: A social productivity framework, and he asked me how my allotment was; he was no doubt confused by the look of horror on my face. Because instead of contemplating luscious crops, my mind turned to guilt and scenes of neglect. The problem has been the time taken by our move followed by my pneumonia, so it has been weeks since I went, unprecedented in 15 years of keeping an allotment. It was therefore with heavy anticipation that I headed down yesterday, still feeling uncharacteristically weary but looking forward to a good day tending my little patch of heaven.
I picked lovely weather, the sun was shining and many of my fellow allotmenters had their families in tow enjoying the warmth and helping out.

Comedy parsnips

The first thing that hit me was the grass – with the rain that has fallen recently, it had got to over a foot tall on my paths and needed immediate attention. Then there were the pests. Much of what I have in the ground, like my asparagus, had been got at either by the asparagus beetle or slugs and on closer inspection I found hundreds of slugs and snails curled up around the weeds and vegetables like the cavalo nero. I destroy snails and slugs by standing on them. Fellow gardeners have more genteel ways of dealing with the gardener's nemesis, like plopping them in a bucket of water but as they can climb out of water I find the quickest way is to stamp on them or if they are smaller squish them between thumb and forefinger as I go about my business. I took out the cavolo nero saving the best for our rabbits at home and also dug up the last of the parsnips, which were rather large and probably past their best, though I will try to make them into soup today with chicken stock from last night's roast.

Serpentine asparagus

My asparagus shoots are coming out of the ground bent because as they grow incredibly quickly, they are contorting around the damaged side of the spears. They look like mythological serpents rising out of the sea but, I have to report, still taste delicious.



I make it a rule to try to add something when I go so I had the fun job of putting in my runners. This year I have gone for Streamline which is a new variety for me but grows very straight, hence the name, and as I have invested in a 'new' vintage bean cutter, thanks to good old Ebay, I am keen to get slicing with straighter beans and so reducing waste.

Who dun it?

I then weeded and re-netted my broad beans that have once again been well and truly got at by pests. It could be pea weevil but given some of them had been knocked over, more likely to be slug damage. It's time to order the nematodes!

I gave my apple trees a spray as signs of apple aphid and scab are already there and made a mental note to get some codling moth lures and arm my traps.

Finally I earthed up my potatoes, Pink Fir Apple, which are our favourite and still hard to buy unless you shop on the fifth floor of Harvey Nichols.
With things looking a little tidier, though by no means up to scratch, I said goodbye to our scarecrow, Bob, and wandered home in the evening sun to sort my screaming back out with an ibuprofen, washed down with a clinking gin and tonic. I find that most English of sundowners and a hot bath to be the cure for most things that ail a body.


I have a busy week ahead, but like Arnie, I will be back and armed for war. Don't be fooled by gentle breezes and sweet fragrance, gardening is a constant battle and not for the feint hearted.

PS Please sponsor my Sammie who did a 60-mile training cycle yesterday in preparation for his ride to Paris for Street Child Sierra Leone on 2 June. He's only 14 and is constantly monitoring his Just Giving site so go on give him something to cheer at!
Sam Ogden-Newton/Just Giving

Stripped of my strimmer, I ask, why bother?

Partially fanged but still fabulous, my first
 parsnips this year

Someone said to me recently that they went to my blog because I write about social enterprise and yet many of my contributions seemed to be about an allotment.

She said, "How can anyone write so much about gardening?" Clearly, she was not impressed. I do wonder what folk make of my rather eclectic mix of social commentary, horticulture and family life, but in writing about my passions, there does appear to be three themes. I hope they don't jar too much and the almost weekly gardening slot at the moment isn't too dull. My hope is based on the fact that I get as many comments about the gardening as other posts, so I know at least a few of you share my interest in the sod.

The seed bed in full production

Having dinner last night with a dear friend, she asked why I blog. I couldn't really answer except to say that when writing about what fascinates me, I do it to organise my thoughts, which I really enjoy, as much as a desire to inform the reader. Clearly, you may say, and I have had comments posted to the effect that my pieces sometimes miss the desired mark. But 28,000 unique visits to the blog this year proves something I suppose.

All of this is by way of introducing another gardening post. I must report that there have been a spate of thefts at the allotment and I have been relieved of my strimmer. It was a trusty friend, which, like its owner, needed careful handling. Good luck getting it started thief: without the usual three nods to the east and prayer to the gardening god, you haven't got a hope. Fellow tweeters have shared their allotment losses with me and theft on allotment sites does appear to be widespread.

The problem for me is not just the lost strimmer or the empty beer bottles left in our picnic area, it is of course, the violation. The allotment is my haven, where I go to feel good and at one with the world. For therapy, spiritual rejuvenation and veg. My children often go there alone either to fish or pick produce for supper, and I cannot bear the idea that on the same land, in the same space, greed and contempt sometimes stalk. So even though I had a great haul again yesterday and put another 3 kilos of raspberries and blackberries in the freezer, I worked on the site imagining someone looking at the fruits of my labour and finding it twee, smug and irritating. Or maybe I'm just over-reacting. It is after all only a bloody strimmer.

So a couple of things to tell you. The first is that I observed the Cavolo Nero I have under netting to protect it from the birds is being eaten by something, in dramatic contrast to the rest of the Cavolo Nero that has not been netted, see above, which is looking marvellous and well on course to provide us with some winter greens. I love this Italian brassica, which is as versatile as any cabbage but a stunning blue/black/green colour with a strong, distinctive flavour. Like all brassicas, it is hardy and one of the few things I managed to crop right the way through last winter.

I also pulled my first parsnips of the year, some of which are 'fanged' – a technical term for shapes like fat legs doing one half of a star jump, but still they looked glorious to me. Also, I started picking my pears, which we had with stilton last night and, like my apples, they are absolutely delicious.

So all in all a productive day and one that demands I move on. I would buy a new strimmer today, but that would break my, never-shop-on-a-Sunday rule, which has remained unbroken for 15 years. So the grass will have to wait until next weekend. That and today is really the day to remember 9/11 and a fellow allotmenter who unimaginably lost her daughter that day. All thoughts must go to her and her family, and therefore I shall worry less about unwanted two-legged visitors on plot 31.

As Ye Sow, so shall ye reap

Todays budget was billed by Chancellor, George Osborne as the blueprint for "Start up Britain".

Down at the allotment its all Fartichokes!

Its all excitement down on the allotment as today is our first bonfire of the year! Perfect weather conditions and a mountain of weeds and cleared vegetation dried out over the winter mean today’s the day. I’ve put 12 year old Sam and his mate Freddie in charge, foolish you may think, but my view with children and danger is you need to teach them to manage it rather than avoid it. Fingers crossed. Sam has done a great job in getting things going and keeping it stoked and I have really enjoyed the ‘man talk’. High points have been comparing themselves with their forks to the soldiers of Troy and a row over who made the Bayeux tapestry, monks or women!?

Meanwhile 10 year old Katie cleared out the pond, it all looks quite healthy but sad to say no frogspawn, despite having frogs last year.

I got on with the satisfying task of putting my onions in. The couple of hundred sets I bought cost me just over a pound from our co-operatively run allotment trading shed, which is good value which ever way you look at it. I love the neat rows you can make with them, and was pleased with my soil in the onion bed, not quite Christmas pudding consistency as they often report from the Gardeners’ World garden, but pretty close.

I’m not sure if the hard frost we had this week has effected the parsnip and salad seeds I put in last week. I’ll know soon if they are a no show.

I’ve removed the plastic housing over my rhubarb as forcing it this year seems to have really slowed down its growth, and with rhubarb at a £1 a stem in Waitrose I need quantity. We really loved my rhubarb and ginger jam last year and to celebrate my first stalks, I am making a rhubarb tart for Sunday lunch. See above, its a Waitrose recipe. 



I dug up a quantity of Jerusalem Artichokes and have made some delicious soup.  I used the Abel and Cole recipe, although I par boiled them first, a top tip from the vegetable Queen Jane Grigson, to mitigate their powers of wind inducement, hence the epithet, Fartichokes! Their unique nutty flavor are certainly worth the risk, perfect with a little crème fraiche. 

A quick postscript to apologise for any confusion over the changes I am making to my blog. I am trying to sort things out but some of the gadgets might take time to become dynamic as I am learning on the job, please bare with me.