The phone call came out of the blue.
‘Dad, I have taken on an allotment, would you like to give me a hand?’
‘Yes of course’ I said, without stopping to think what this might involve. My experience of growing vegetables was confined to container grown Tumbling Tom tomatoes, which without fail would ripen and then die of thirst while we were on summer holiday. We eventually gave up on the tomatoes and bought a small olive tree instead. This has survived both the hottest summers and surprisingly the coldest winters, but sadly has never born fruit. So much for my experience in horticultural matters
It was early last summer when we first ventured through the Smitham Allotment Society entrance gates. My first impression was wow! these people are really serious, the plots before us appeared to be near perfection (and still are).
I need not have worried, the worst was yet to come. A number clearly visible on a short concrete post identified our plot. This was evidently a battle lost, the plot having got the better of the plot-holder. It was only a matter of time, probably not much time, before this corner of Smitham would once again become woodland. The thought crossed my mind that this might need more than just a hand. How much would a JCB cost for the day, would we get it through the recently erected entrance gates and of course would such drastic action meet with the Chairman’s approval? Probably not, we decided.
Those in favour of proceeding raise their hands- all three of us, my daughter Jo, her partner Paul and I, slowly raised our hands and set to work in the quite mistaken belief that the exercise would be good for us. Soon after this Jo announced that a baby was on the way. Of course we were all delighted but with this news Ground Force numbers were drastically reduced, to just one willing helper – me! Most of that summer was spent clearing the plot, probably much to the disgust of the slow-worm colony that seemed to prefer the way it was. Out of curiosity we read up on these unexpected residents to find that as a protected species (of lizard!) they not only had every right to be there but were protected by law. The large roll of black plastic caked in mud lying undisturbed alongside the chain-link fence is now their permanent home.
As work progressed a few potatoes were tossed into the soil, some beetroot seeds were sown more in hope than expectation. Oh and a few nasturtium seeds were thrown in to brighten things up on a dull day. Much to our surprise the results were quite encouraging – until our first and quite modest harvest arrived in the kitchen. The bottom of our largest stainless steel pan is permanently stained where the beetroot boiled dry and the boiled potatoes fell apart before they were fully cooked. Not to be discouraged most of the hard graft needed to get the plot back in shape was now behind us and the thought of now giving up might have crossed our minds but had no particular appeal.
In no time winter came and went and with spring in the air attention turned once again to the allotment and in particular to our now quite well prepared plot. The potatoes were I understand planted quite early by Chipstead Valley ‘frost pocket’ standards. Three rows of British Queen were planted on St.Patrick’s Day, followed by Picasso, International Kidney and King Edwards. It seems that early planting this year might have helped to protect the crop against blight. The foliage was removed at the first sign of leaves turning yellow. The potato harvest was good and thanks to a little advice from our chairman our potatoes now go in the steamer not the boiling pan to keep their shape and flavour. Onions, carrots, beetroot, Cos lettuce and not least parsnip have all performed well in spite of the dismal summer weather. I have to say the garden peas were delicious, all twelve of them (peas not pods). They say that less is sometimes more but it is reassuring to know that in times of need the supermarket is no more than five minutes drive away.
As the end of our first full growing season draws near and we look back over the past year I have to say the ‘helping hand’ has turned out to be a rewarding and most enjoyable experience. Thanks to the help, encouragement and friendship shown by fellow plot-holders life on the allotment has turned out to be so much more than putting fresh produce on the kitchen table.
Except for the parsnips and recently planted garlic the plot is now almost dormant and we are perfectly happy to leave it that way for the next few months. Hopefully my digging induced ailments will be gone in time for the New Year celebrations and a new pair of wellies in the Christmas stocking would be most welcome. We will be back, whatever the weather.