Titanarum

I may be digressing into food and drink but I want to share with you some very good news on drinking red wine, courtesy of an article in the Guardian. Don’t just drink any old red, mind. The ones to go for are full of polyphenol, a substance believed to help prevent heart disease. Wines with the biggest doses usually use Tannat or Malbec grapes and come from South West France and to a lesser degree Argentina and Uruguya. Grape juice is no good as the polyphenols won’t dissolve unless fermentation takes places.

And if you don’t like red wine, cloudy unfiltered cider or dark chocolate should do a good job too. It isn’t completely clear how these polyphenols help people live longer and free of heart disease but several studies have shown that they do. The men of South west France, whose inhabitants regularly indulge in saturated fats from foie gras, cassoulet and full fat cheeses have double the French average of men aged 90 plus. One theory, presented by Roger Corder who wrote The Wine Diet, is that polyphenols bind to a surface protein on artery walls creating a non-stick surface helping blood to flow better.

Expect a stampede in the South American section of the wine aisles.

Looks like I’ll have to chuck out my Miracle Grow and Pest Away spray and embrace the organic life style. From now on there will be no more cutting corners or acting on a whim. Why?

Well, preliminary test results from the biggest ever study show that organic produce is way more nutritious than non-organic produce. Organic farmers and supporters have been saying this for years but with no convincing science to back it up I, along with the Food Standard Agency, did not think one kind of growing superior to the other. I’ve been fertilising one crop with bone meal from organically reared animals and handpicked sea weed while dosing others with popular liquid mixes of Nitrogen, Phosphates and Boron. And I’ve been buying organic fruit and vegetables only when the produce looked as fresh as the non organic option, and was on special offer.

But those days are over.

Even if it will cost me in money and effort I will establish organic habits both on the allotment and in supermarkets. But when they publish the finished study in a year’s time and the results prove inconclusive or in favour of non-organic produce I can’t be held accountable for my reaction. You’ve been warned.

P.S I am struggling a little bit with the composting at the moment but more of that another day – It’s terrible though. I feel like I have sinned.

An apology. The autumn leaf fall is a joyful manifestation of the cycle of life, not a nuisance. I don’t know what came over me yesterday but I hold my head in shame this morning. Dramatically changing colour before dropping off they present to the world a final song and dance before biting the dust. That is a cause for celebration not complaint. And the benefits are physical too. Forming a light blanket the leaves act as a nutritious mulch around other plants, feeding and protecting them from the winter frost.

I don’t know about you but I had trouble staying asleep this morning. Up early on a Monday morning. Absolutely shocking. I blame it on the clock changing. It is too sudden. Giving us more daylight in the morning is a great incentive to get out of bed in the winter time but the change is too brutal. Why not do it in stages? My evening will be ruined because come 7pm I’ll be absolutely knackered. I feel so aggrieved I’m prepared to set up a pressure group for the gradual introduction of clock changing in this country. Say 10 minutes every week until the winter solstice.

Everywhere and I mean everywhere leaves are falling down causing a nuisance. Like giant dandruff they drop all over pavements, cars, train tracks and roofs leaving a right mess. And it’s dangerous too. When wet they are right slippery. I don’t like them much and will be glad when they’ve all dropped and been tidied up. Some may argue that they are pretty. So what? How can looks matter when health and safety and convenience are concerned? How shallow can you get? Others may argue that falling leaves is a part of autumn and that a walk in forest in November wouldn’t be the same without them. Hello!? What about non-deciduous trees. They cause no trouble at all. And being mostly lovely and green what’s not to like? Variety is not all it’s cracked up to be, if you ask me. What we need is reliable, dependable growths to fit in with out life styles. That is not a lot to ask. And if you really must do the treading-through-knee-high-fallen-leaves-routine then let’s set aside areas where that can happen. Let’s have some traditional autumn parks. But don’t make the rest of us suffer.

What can I say? Aren’t they just amazing? Evidence in favour of the slothful, yet intensely ambitious gardener. I hardly did a thing other than planting the seeds in late August in a 5o by 5o cm bit of soil newly cleared of blighted tomates. I didn’t bother loosening the soil. All 12 seeds went in where they could find a crevice and others were pushed down by my fingers. I watered them once or twice and placed a bit of wire over them to prevent the pigeons from eating the young plants. I rarely bothered to look at them, in fact I didn’t think about them for weeks. And yet they cropped fine.

Had a sideways look at Gardener’s World last night. Chilling with a cuppa after long day at work (paper not garden), I read the Daily Mail. It is the most soothing of all reading experiences. Every article, every opinion piece, every agony aunt dilemma, is coated in familiar stereotypes which renders thinking completely unneccesary. While thus relaxed I lifted my eyes occasionally to pay attention to Monty, who’s doing a fruit cage. The trick, apparently, is to use a lightweight frame and to only cover it during the summer when the fruit is ripening to prevent the birds from getting there before you. And without a physical barrier they will. I’ve been planning a fruit cage for ages. I was intending to erect a wooden frame and clad it in chickenwire. But that is not good, says Monty, because you want to prevent fallen leaves and snow from putting pressure on the cage. I can’t afford a proper cage with properly fitted netting. I don’t think they come under £100. Wrapping up each tree and bush will have to do for another year for me.

I’m back. It’s still raining. I’m bored. And I’ll be damned if the world doesn’t know about it. Share my boredom. No? Ok, ok, ok. Fine. How about sharing my dreams then? What could I grow next year? What lovely foods could grace my pink table if I start preparing now? The Lancashire Lad gooseberry perhaps. It was mentioned on Gardener’s World as an outstanding dessert gooseberry. I’ve got two three year olds of the Leveller variety. They carried less than 10 fruits this year but I can be patient when it’s worth waiting for. And ripe dessert gooseberries are worth waiting for. The fruits need to be left on the bush as long as possible to become a honeyed squidgy delicacy. But the thorns are vicious. I cut them off with a pair of nail scissors earlier this year because Ida, a dear 7 year old friend, was visiting and I didn’t want her to get hurt when picking the fruit. I doubt I’ll be doing it again because I got hurt de-thorning the bushes and was left wondering if I my time should be spent on other, perhaps more effective, initiatives. Such as writing emails to growers asking for genetically modified scratch-free full flavoured gooseberries.

Carrots, aren’t you sick of them? Or is that just me? Every bloomin’ time I try to grow them I end up disappointed. And it isn’t because I expect the impossible. I know I’m unlikely to have those beautifully long tapered things you see on the packets because I don’t put each seed in a foot long plastic tube immersed in hand mixed sandy soil (that is how the winner of best carrots of the last 20 allotment show grows them). I know my little carrots roots are up against stones and clay clumps and what not on their way down. I know they will be bent. And because I don’t thin them very well I’m under no illusion they will fulfil their individual potential. All I ask is that they are carrot root fly free and taste the way a fresh carrot ought to: sweet. But they never. Even when I’ve gone to all sorts of trouble, like digging first and reading up on the kind of soil and nutrients they like, I am rewarded – not! – with gnarly growths void of flavour and often riddled with the larvae of the carrot fly despite the variety being supposed to be resistant. I give up.

Sometimes, but not often, it is hard to decide what is best. Take parsley. Flat leaved is the variety preferred by the southern Europeans whereas the Brits and the northern European populations prefer it curly leaved. They both taste wonderfully sweet but in terms of perfume I find the curly variety unsurpassed. But why put yourself in the awkward position of having to choose? Just grow both. How? Well follow the instructions on the packet. That’s what I do. Just bear in mind that they take forever to sprout. Unless I put a stick or stone where I’ve sown it I tend to forget and suddenly have a field of parsley competing with runner beans or whatever. But should that happen to you be comforted that the young parsley plants do survive being transplanted if done with tenderness. Because gardening isn’t just a mechanical process. Feelings can make all the difference to a crop. Say you go to your plot or garden feeling moody and take out all your bad feelings on a defenceless sapling by tramping on it. That means it won’t crop. But say, you decide to take out your bad feelings on the weeds. That means the cultivars have a much better chance of thriving. Feelings are very important in gardening but they must be controlled.

1) Autumn raspberries need cutting down. I prefer the autumn variety as there’s no confusion about which ones to prune. They all have to go. Just leave a few buds or bits of green about 20cm above ground and they will come back bearing fruit aplenty. With the summer variety you need to cut the canes that bore fruit this year and leave the others. But frankly, how are we to remember three months after picking finished? I don’t bother with them at all especially since the variety I grow (Autumn Bliss) begins to crop in July and goes on till the first frost. Cut them into 5-6 inch pieces and add to the compost.

2) Pull up basil plants. I’ve long stopped picking them as they have become a bit woody and tough. Add to compost.

3) Pick the last Bolotto beans before composting the plants. This was a late sowing (end of August) and they came good.

4) Clear the cold frame. Currently it is full of weeds. Earlier I had tomatoes and basil in there but they are long gone. An eyesore. I will dry them out first them compost those not gone to seed. The rest will get burned.

5) Pull up roots of sweetcorn. I composted the plants about a month ago but didn’t bother with the roots due to dry weather. They should be easy to remove now.

What a marvellous feeling it is to know what one has to do. The job is as good as done.

Remember the list of tasks to do on the allotment I wrote a few days ago? Well, today, Sunday, was the day it was all meant to happen. But fortunately, I mean sadly, it is raining and doesn’t look like it will stop for at least another hour. And then we are half way through the day and with daylight fading fast it is hardly worth putting on the wellies. Besides, soil newly dampened shouldn’t be trodden on or worked on. Why? Earth worms for starters will not like it. And you don’t want to mess with them as they are our friends. Imagine how they will feel, all flat after your weight has been placed upon them. And roots, which benefit from all the little air pockets the earth worms create, will suddenly not be able to breathe. And if that is not enough think about the aesthetics. Holes the shape of footprints will completely ruin the overall look of your plot. And mud is not an easy medium. It sticks. Before you realise the bottom of your shoes have become platform wedges so heavy and uneven you end up swaying forwards or backwards in slow motion like a zombie. I’m staying in.