Independence.

We went to Filey on the east coast today, and had a walk along the front in the bracing sea air then up towards the gardens at the far end. When we reached the top I noticed the council had put up an information board about a famous sea battle that took place in the bay, between Britain and America no less. Apparently, in September of 1779, one John Paul Jones, an American of Scottish birth, took on the might of the British navy in the American War of Independence and won. In fact just to rub our noses it in, he also nicked one of our ships, his own being damaged, and scarpered off to Holland in it!

As we stood looking out towards Flamborough Head, I could just imagine the ships blasting each other at point blank range within the bay, and the carnage being caused. An epic battle between the nascent America and the government of Britain being waged just off our coast, who would have thought it.

So what has this got to do with allotments, I hear you ask.

Well it’s to do with the psychology of allotment holders, and what makes them tick. After all not everyone is as daft we are, to turn out in all weathers digging and weeding, and fight an endless war of attrition with countless pests and diseases. All to get a few vegetables that would cost half as much from the supermarket, if the true cost of the many hours of labour were accounted for.

So there must be something else, and I think it’s all down to independence.

Most allotment holders seem to have a strong desire to work their own piece land and grow their own vegetables, in an act of almost defiant independence of “the system”. It’s like sticking two fingers up to the hegemony of the supermarkets, and the officialdom that took away our rights to land for the benefit of today’s elite rich landowners.

Now back to that battle - John Paul Jones was just one of many thousands of people at the time, who moved to a new country in search of independence and to own their own piece of land. Admittedly, many were forced by circumstance, but many were not, and they all took their chance, in the hope of having a piece of earth they could call their own. So strong was this desire, that they took on the old system and won their nation’s independence, through the bravery of men like this.

So I’d like to think that we humble allotment holders, have a little bit in common with these early pioneers, in retaining and nurturing that same strong sense of independence, and woe betide those bloody councillors if they try to put the rent up this year!

Which Path ?

I actually walked down to the allotment yesterday, and as I strolled along humming to my Ipod and wondering what people were laughing at, I got to thinking about paths. Now I know many of us ponder on where life will lead us, and which roads we will take in our quest for fulfilment, but it wasn’t anything as profound as that. No, it was the paths on the plot I was thinking about, and what I’m going to do with them this year.


The thing is, I think I’ve developed a bit of an O.C.D. problem with the allotment! Everything has to be in straight lines set in the four equal quadrants, and each plant will be measured out to the nearest inch. Even the shed has been lined up precisely to the four points of the compass, so much so that any practising Muslim would have no problem finding Mecca. I’ve told the wife about this and she is patiently waiting for the disorder to transfer itself to the house, bless her.

There’s only the paths left now to sort, not that they haven’t been precisely measured out, but the sides keep crumbling away and loosing that straight crisp edge that just looks so good, like a crease in your trousers. They need a more permanent surface, but shall it be paving slabs, bark chippings, or gravel.

There is, however, a major problem with all of these potential solutions… Expense. After all, I am a member of our Tight Wad Allotment Team, or T.W.A.T for short, as my wife kindly points out.

So what about grass, I thought? Can’t be more than a couple of quid for seed, in fact if I transplant some of the lawn from the front of the house, it would be even cheaper, though the divorce expenses might cancel that out.

Trouble is, how would I cut it? There’s no power for an electric mower, and the petrol one would be a pain to get there. Yes, I know what you’re thinking, what about one of those push along things, but have you ever tried one? Put it this way, I would happily be run over with one whilst sunbathing nude in the front garden, if there’s any grass left, and have no fear of loosing any of my appendages.

As I neared the plot I passed a field with some sheep in. Hmmm, now there’s a thought, if I could borrow one of these every couple of weeks, the problem would be sorted, but so would my vegetables, me thinks.

The one with the dyed hair and ear piercings looked cool, as the grand kids would say, and I half expected it to have an Ipod.

What would it have been listening to I wonder? “Ewe were made for me”, perhaps.

Showing my age now aren’t I. Think I’ll shut up!

Humble Weeds.

Let’s hear it for the weeds.

Not the Grumbleweeds or the Tumbleweeds but the good old honest humble weeds. Those little plants that, sadly, just happen to be growing in the wrong place.

We pursue them to oblivion with hoe, spade or chemical weapons, whilst pandering to our F1 hybrids and half hardy annuals, yet rarely give a thought to what they actually are. So I decided to photograph one or two, before decapitating them, and look up what they are.

This is one of the Speedwell family. I’m not sure which one as there are so many, but they all belong to the genus Veronica. Named after St Veronica who is supposed to have wiped Christ’s forehead on the way to the cross, and later found his image on the cloth. According to folk lore, you will get your eyes pecked out by birds if you pick the plant ! The name Speedwell is probably to do with the supposed many healing properties of the plant, which included use as a blood purifier, for skin irritation, smallpox, measles, cancer, kidney complaints and just for good measure, it can also be used for sore eyes.

Here we have Shepherd’s Purse. So named because of its delicate triangular seed case resembling a shepherd’s purse of old.. It came originally from southern Europe and western Asia, and those purses are so prolific that it has spread all over the world as far as North America. Again, it has been used medicinally for hundreds of years, mainly as a means of stopping bleeding both internally and externally, for example haemorrhoids !


This little plant is an immature example of the Spear Thistle, and you can already see the needles. When I first got the plot, there were some mature plants that were real monsters, with tap roots that went down to Australia and spikes making it well worthy of it’s name. All parts of the plant are apparently edible, if rather bland, though there wouldn’t be much left after removing those spikes. Fibres from the plant can be used for paper making, and the fluffy seed heads make excellent tinder for fire making. Medicinally, a poultice can be made from it to treat arthritis.

So there we have it, from my little plot I can make some paper or a fire, treat my arthritis, and if the need ever arises, even treat my piles !

Get off my land.

I was napping, sorry digging, on the plot the other day, when I was startled by the sound of a low flying aircraft overhead. It was that low in fact, it had me running for cover thinking I was in bloody Pearl Harbour!

Luckily I had a brown paper bag in the shed, and after I’d stopped hyperventilating I realised it was on a training run, testing the radar at nearby Staxton Wold RAF Station which is just to the South of us. Night and day these people scan the skies over the North Sea, protecting our territory from those nasty Russians. Don’t they know that they can come over here on ferries now, with visas.

As it happens, just to the North of our allotments (See above photo) I can see an archaeological site where people were doing a similar thing, 4000 years ago. Here there are ancestral burial mounds and massive boundary earthworks, that were meant to send out a clear message to any newcomers, that this was their territory, “Keep Off”.

Now when we first got these plots they were marked out just with pegs by the council, and the first thing everyone did was to put up a fence around theirs, and woe betide anyone who tried to pinch a bit from someone else.

Of course it was to keep those damn rabbits out, wasn’t it ? Well no, I suspect there was a little more going on than that. It was that same vital urge to claim their territory, that’s been going on since those first farmers settled this land.

So I sat back down in my little bit of territory, keeping a wary eye out for any more suicidal kamikaze pilots, and thought, “nowt’s changed much as it”.

Lucifer's Crucifera

I know it’s a bit sad, but I’m that pleased with my Brussels Sprouts, that I just had to commemorate them in a blog. As you can see from the photos, it was a good yield of tight button heads.

There were just over six pounds in that picture, from the last six plants that I’ve just stripped, as I didn’t want to risk losing them to this unrelenting weather. After a couple of hours they were prepared and ready for the freezer.

Sprouts, to me, are a much maligned vegetable that when cooked properly are absolutely delicious.
Notice I say cooked “properly”, because at the risk of suffering the wrath of the ”al dente“ police, that means until they are good and soft !

Admittedly they are not to everyone’s taste, some even calling them the Devil’s vegetable. In fact one Captain Wayne Keble OBE, commander of HMS Bulwark banned them from his ship, "to protect his men from the evils of sprouts"(See article). I wonder if that’s why they put a cross on the bottom of them ?

I don’t think they do that much for global warming either, being associated as they are with high levels of methane production in some people.

Trouble is, the freezer’s now full of ‘em and there’s only so many boiled ones you can eat in a year, so we are going to have to get a bit more adventurous.

Stir fried ? Roasted ? Sprout bubble and squeak ? Hmmm, sounds good in principle but I think I’ll have to reserve judgement just for now.

Come to think of it, should we really be messing about with Lucifer’s Crucifera at all !!!