Titanarum

Am taking up offer to share. Courtesy of allotment neighbour K I now have use of a 6m x 4m greenhouse sat in the snuggest of locations with full sun and protected from wind. The offer has been there for the last few years but with my problems with commitment it has taken quite a while for me to get in there.
And a commitment it is. I know because I’ve been on green house duty now and again and during holidays. This is what I’ve signed up for: Daily watering and opening and closing of windows and/or doors morning and evening. It may not sound much but consider this: failing to carry out those simple actions can result in total destruction.
The summer before last, the summer we began to believe the scientists who’ve been banging on about global warming, K had to water twice a day. Last year, as we all know, watering was slightly less urgent. But whatever is going on outside, the doors have to be opened and closed to ensure the plants don’t overheat or freeze to death. It’s exciting, though. My coffee, kiwi and palm seeds will be reared there. Having a partner is great. I hope I can keep my laziness at bay and not let K or the little plantlets down.

In the last few weeks I have bought organic semi skimmed milk. I have also bought one organic cauliflower and a bag of red onions and potatoes.  I have looked at the price of organic apples, cabbage, salad, grapes, etcetera etcetera, and I have looked at my bank statements. The two don’t agree. So I will continue to look and occasionally buy organic and I will endeavour to grow all my stuff on horse poo and sea weed and never spray a single aphid with anything harsher than soap water. But I won’t go into red. Not even for the planet. We all have a responsibility to turn climate change around. I will do anything to help that process but I won’t do that. Instead I will encourage the large number of middleclass households to put their money where their mouths are. They hold the power. The rest of us who live on say, less than £10.000 a year in rented accommodation, we already spend a higher proportion of our income on food, rent, heating, tax, you name it. And if we are to become more effective planet savers we need help, practical and financial, to do our bit. Living the organic life can be done on a low budget if one’s whole life is dedicated to the cause.  To do it in a way that also allows for fun, convenience and variety, remains a middle-class prerogative.

No milk for my coffee when I got up (blame: man with munchies hitting the cereals), so had to get some. Our nearest shop is 10 minute’s walk away if you shoot through the very narrow, ill lit, heavily littered alley connecting the low rise estate I’m on and the open prison.
The alleyway gained notoriety a few years back when a prisoner due for release was killed there early in the morning. The shot to the head had been silenced so they reckon it was a professional job. The victim was a former IRA man and revenge for blabbing doesn’t seem unthinkable. The whole area was turned into a crime investigation scene with no go taped areas and everybody getting a visit from Scotland Yard. Very exciting. The perpetrator is still around, to my knowledge, but unlikely to kill me as I’m only blabbing to my friends and not about anything important.

Anyway, that was the alley I walked through to get to the corner shop. Elated I listened to the birds and felt the gentle misty rain on my skin. Past the open prison it got busier. A paper boy, a road cleaner, lots of cars heading for Ham gate into Richmond Park. One man was running to get the bus into Kingston. I strolled, happy as a bee on a fat flower.

A van load of horse manure arrived yesterday. A steaming mixture of straw and compacted poo it smells of ammonia, an aroma I find strangely attractive. Already half of it has gone. A small number of allotment holders can’t get enough of the stuff. I’m usually among them but as I’ve hit a phase of intense laziness I’m leaving it for the others this time. We will hopefully get another load in the spring. But spring is the worst time to spread it, especially the freshly produced stuff. Manure shouldn’t be used until it has rotted down. And that usually takes at least a year. I just bung it on. Despite my erroneous ways my raspberries, in particular, keep on going, setting large and tasty fruit long into September. One of my neighbours has been growing runner beans in pure fresh manure trenches all his life. And they certainly don’t suffer. And let’s not forget the Victorians, who used the stuff to keep cold frames warm enough to grow produce in the winter. But according to text books on the subjects using the stuff before it has rotted down properly releases the wrong sorts of nutrients in the wrong amounts. Deary me.

Plants have eyes too. That’s right.

Land of Milk, Honey and Free Money - There could be mileage in this one.

Here’s one of my mother’s recipes: Creamed leeks. Take 4-5 good size leeks. Cut into thin slices. Steam for 10 minutes. Transfer to larger cooking vessel, say a pan. Heat up till remaining liquid has evaporated. Just before it dries out add 250ml of single cream, good pinch of salt and half a tea spoon full of ground cinnamon. Leave to simmer until flavours have blended. Serve with pork (chops, meatballs or roast). 

And here’s how to grow your own leeks. Plant seeds in trays in the summer. Remove the weakest seedlings and leave one in each compartment. Insert into dug and weeded soil as many plastic tubes (30 cm long with a diameter of about 4 cm) as you need. Leave about 10 cm between each. Fill up each tube with mixed sand and soil (half and half). Water through. Carefully insert 1 young leekling into each tube. Keep well watered and fed until the leeks have filled out the tubes. This may take many months. The good thing about leeks though, is that they only get better as the weather gets worse. My life’s too short for all that bother so I just get them in the supermarket but don’t let that stop you doing what’s right and proper.

Since reporting on the progress of the hyacinth bulb I’ve been tending not a lot has happened. After three weeks of sending out roots it finally revealed a green growth at the top. This green growth is still there. No smaller. No bigger. What is going on? Absolutely nothing. Gardening literature will go on about bulbs being so rewarding. So amazing. Little powerhouses in need of nothing more than a bit of water, light and a medium to grow in. My hyacinth has all that and more. I bought it in Sainsbury’s and, frankly, I wouldn’t go shopping there again if it wasn’t so conveniently located. It was reduced to £2.50 from £5 (that’s including the specially shaped vase), but that is no excuse. They’ve still got a responsibility to ensure that their wares are functioning according to the product description. A reduction does not affect my statutory rights as a consumer (whatever they are). It’s about time the full scale of the deceit is revealed. Either Sainsbury’s has breached their contractual obligations or it’s a myth that growing from bulb is easy. I’ll be taking it back to the store if it hasn’t come into flower by the new year.

The rare seeds have arrived. 2 varieties of decorative palms, cactus fruit, coffee plants and kiwi. They came in re-sealable plastic bags the size of a big stamp and their names written with a black marker pen. I wonder how many packets of rare seeds this ebay seller managed to get out of the original packets. Inspirational

I wonder if coffee plants would do well on a shielded south facing balcony. I’m thinking of my friend B, she who likes heathers. I have a feeling this plant may win her over. She is not into fruit in a big way, apart from citrus, and they need conservatories to crop. But coffee plants may be of interest. I grew a dozen or so coffee plants on a south facing balcony in Denmark years ago. The plants flowered but didn’t fruit. I loved them for their dark shiny leaves. I’m also curious about the Kiwi seeds. Surely it would be easier and more sensible to buy a grown plant complete with variety and care instructions but where’s the fun in that? I’ll be starting in the new year. These little fellows are going in the propagator in the first week of January.  

Found a pair of white g strings on a log in my local forest outside Richmond Park. I don’t know what to think. Often we find crumbled wank mags ejected at the wayside by drivers who use the parking area by the church up the road for self gratification. But not knickers. I didn’t stoop to look at the label so cannot say much about the social aspirations of the owner, nor about her size (hands up for assuming they belonged to a female). It could have been a non-sexual incident. A new to jogging female could have set out not wearing the right gear and decided to shed the bum scratching garment on the spot rather than forego a good work out. With a mixed population like ours (grand mansion owners, open, nearly rehabilitated prisoners, young working class families, middle aged middleclass house owners and vulnerable individuals in council flats), it is hard to draw any conclusions. Add to that the fact that the area is visited by thousands of people every month, many of whom are exercising, flying kites or visiting Pembrooke Lodge (a grand café near Richmond Gate) and the Isabella Plantation, a 200 year old secluded oasis complete with ducks, herons, rhododendron, camellia, azalea and green parrots. If anybody has lost a pair of white g strings do let me know and I’ll see what I can do.