Soilman's Allotment Blog

Wanted: Animals, two by two

This basket of peas is hardly lavish. Barely enough to feed one person, let alone two.

But I'm delighted, because I picked them during a 10-minute dry patch. Can you believe that? A whole 10 minutes without rain! Is that some kind of record for 2007?

If there's ever been a wankier summer in British history, I'd love to hear about it. I'm beyond rage, laughter or any other emotional reaction. Now I just stare out of the window, dead-eyed and catatonic.

So let it rain. Or snow. Or pour liquid cow shit from the sky.

Like, whatever.

Guess what's for dinner?

... again.

This is the fourth bucket of French beans from the allotment so far. It's getting silly.

I'm freezing them as fast as I can harvest. But they just keep coming. It's like that mole-whacking arcade game.

Well, mustn't grumble. A month ago I was convinced I'd grow nothing worth eating this year. Yet another Soilman Super Accurate Prognostication.

Better late than 'late'

These tiny French bean flowers are almost too pretty to belong to a mere vegetable. If I wasn't keen for them to turn into beans, I'd pick them for house flowers.

What a difference a bit of sunshine makes. These Purple Teepee were looking terminally ill a few weeks ago. Now we're getting tons of beans and they taste delicious. 

Even the courgettes, stunted and ill hitherto, have exploded into growth.

Ah well. The good times couldn't last.

Soilman awarded first ASBO

Having coped with slug attack, pisspoor weather, lousy seed and Terminator pigeons, I reckon I deserve some kind of award for these peas.

In fact, I'm instituting one: an annual prize for Allotment Success despite Bastard Odds, or ASBO. The prize goes to the heroic gardener who somehow produces a viable crop of any vegetable (ie an edible one, however crappy) in the worst conditions.

I'm awarding myself the inaugural ASBO 2007. But I'll happily surrender it to somebody with a more pathetic tale. I want purple prose telling of vandalism, of diseases overcome, of shocking setbacks and hopeless battles against hordes of pitiless pests. I want Leonidas at Thermopylae... but, you know, with a pumpkin.

I want, in short, one mother of a sob story. Oh, and a picture of your crop. The more puny and pitiful, the better.

Standing room only

It's midsummer – you can tell from the weather. So I thought I should post some 'state of the union' pictures of the allotment. Just about every inch is now planted up or sown:

There are some salads at the front, too, but they're still very small. This is the view further back:

Behind the asparagus are the peas and onions:

There's a row of celeriac behind the onions. Leeks will soon replace the First Early spuds. And my winter brassicas will go in the gap left by the onions. Which I'll probably have to harvest soon, because downy mildew is knackering them.

The glut would start any minute... if the sun came out. But I'm beginning to suspect – aren't you? – that we're in for a traditional, old fashioned British summer.

In other words, an utterly shit one.

Hallelujah!

What a welcome sight this is. After two complete disasters and a near-disaster, my peas are finally starting to flower.

What could possibly go wrong now?

*waits anxiously for next devastating blow*

Incoming!

Oo-er. Take cover.

I wasn't psychologically prepared for this today. I don't normally see courgettes until July. Now I'll be sick of them a month earlier than usual.

Great.

Better news elsewhere. My peas, noshed by pigeons a few weeks ago, have recovered (left). And I've got another row in, so I should get successive crops.

The pea frame is a brilliant piece of kit. But note the mad netting I've had to build around it to keep the birds out. I know some of you titter at my netting obsession, but I garden under siege.

Call me paranoid. But they really ARE out to get me.   

Le déluge

What was all that nonsense about dry weather and deserts?

Today in the southeast of the UK it feels like Stromness in January – stinging rain, scudding black clouds, horizontal trees. A seed tray I left in my garden is now full of water. That's, what... 2 inches of rain in 36 hours?

So actually it's like Stromness in July.

I looked in on the allotment briefly. Pretty dismal sight:

The French beans I planted out on Saturday morning (great timing!) have been blasted to hell. Some have even had their seedling leaves blown off (see pic). Like a ballerina without a tutu. Extraordinary.

Worse than this, though, the peas have all been scoffed. I removed the net tunnels on Saturday morning to build a frame for them to climb. Big mistake. The pigeons have had a Lucullan feast.

Constructed a Fort Knox netting system to keep them out. Pigeons are such utter, utter, utter bastards. And I'm kicking myself. I should have known better.

PS I checked out the cost of camels (see below). According to this rather splendid piece, it's $500 to $2000. Most valuable is the Somalian camel, apparently. Now where else would you find that priceless info?

Slugs 12, Soilman 1

Here's a French bean. And a cat. Love the thing he's doing with his ears. Who says an allotment blog must be logical, topical or even tasteful, goddamit?

My 'greenhouse'

I'm growing a dwarf bean called Purple Teepee this year. Not tried it before, but the purple ones usually taste best. They're jostling for space in my 'greenhouse' with everything else that's waiting to be planted out on the plot.

It's a crime scene today; all my lettuce seedlings were scoffed overnight by a small grey slug. Every single one. I located the malfeasant under the seed tray and squidged it to death. Slowly, for maximum suffering.

So call the RSPCA. Do I look bothered?

Rain stops play

It's pissing with rain and I'm livid.

I know: there's no pleasing some people. Last week I'd have given a kidney for this weather. Now I'm gutted because I can't get out on the plot. And there's SO much needs doing.

Got lucky yesterday – we had a two-hour dry window in the afternoon, so I planted out the peas. Their toe-hold on existence is a bit precarious when you first slide them out of the gutters, but given a few days they'll 'take'. Slugs and pea weevil permitting.

I also thinned my carrots and covered them with Enviromesh – an essential hereabouts. Without it, the carrot fly runs amok. I'm not a fan of slimy larval corpse with my boiled carrot. Any gardeners out there not suffering from carrot fly? Wherever you are, I want to move in with you.

"If at first you don't succeed...

... try again. Then give up. No point making a damn fool of yourself."

Glad I ignored WC Fields and persevered. At the third attempt, I finally got the peas to germinate. Every  seed came through from this batch. Hurrah. So thanks, Suttons Seeds. And thanks for nothing, Organic Catalogue.

A bad plantsman blames his seeds. I recognise this. But I'm also beginning to suspect that some seeds are just fresher, or more vital, than others. Parsnip seed, for instance, is notorious for its short shelf life. Its viability declines by the month. If it's not last year's seed, forget it.

Storage is a factor, too. I may be to blame this year; I kept all my seed – bought in November – in a postal jiffy bag in the garage. The bubble-wrap lining may have prevented the seed packets from breathing.

Or maybe I just got crap seed. Guess which explanation I'm inclining towards?

*grumbles bitterly*

Pod fast

Sodding peas. This is my second sowing, and it's failed – just like the first. Most of the peas rotted off in the compost. I'm incandescent with rage, because I can't figure out why. It's not been too cold – as if – and they weren't too wet. It's perplexing.

In case you're wondering: they're sown in lengths of plastic guttering. Sounds bonkers, obviously, but actually it's a stroke of genius. Sowing peas direct is notoriously hit and miss – mice dig them up. This way, you grow the peas more reliably in controlled conditions (hah!) then slide them out of the guttering into their final position. I owe mtp for this top tip.

Worked brilliantly last year. Then this.

Hey ho. Shit happens. I'll just have to try again. No peas for us before end of July.

PS The carrots and beetroot failed, too. Sod them.