I am aware that The Mover is an international magazine and the topic of this month’s missive might be foreign to many. But here goes anyway.
I have an allotment. The concept of ‘allotments’ goes back to the Anglo Saxon invasions of Britain in the 7th century. Then, strips of land were ‘allotted’ to families to grow crops when agriculture was just about the only way of making a living and feeding your family. I guess that was before Tesco and Aldi were invented. Today there is a remnant of that old system in which local councils are obliged to provide allotments (i.e. parcels of land) to people who want them, for a peppercorn rent. There is often a long waiting list as budding horticulturalists hanker for the opportunity of getting their knees muddy and their hands torn to shreds on brambles.
Anyway, enough of history. I have two friends who have recently retired, Graham and Dave. They decided to get an allotment to keep themselves busy in their idle hours. They invited me to join in – even though, for me, ‘idle hours’ are still something of an illusion. I agreed. Sure enough, our local council had one available, so we donned our best wellies and toddled along to survey our newly-acquired land.
It was not quite what I imagined. No carefully tilled seed beds or meticulously pruned fruit bushes. No. Our allotted patch was about 40 metres by four metres of wilderness. David Livingstone himself would have been repelled. Just seeing each other over the raging scrub was a challenge. Digging it, or planting anything, seemed nothing more than folly.
However, I explained to my somewhat crestfallen friends, the principle of how to eat an elephant: one bite at a time. So we rolled up our sleeves, spat on our hands and did what any self-respecting Englishmen would do under such circumstances: went to the pub. There, while trying not to look at the barmaid’s cleavage, we discussed tactics. Using our combined guile and wisdom we came up with a wizard plan. We had become friends because our children were at pre-school together. They have now all grown to strapping 30-something adults with muscles in places I didn’t know existed. The boys are the same. We would bribe them with beer and let them get on with it.
And so, you international doubters, we got the job done. With just a little guidance from us, the kids triumphed, though the beer tab was crippling. Within six weeks, the place was ready for planting. It’s all downhill from here, we thought. But we hadn’t reckoned on two problems. One, was weeds; the other was Dave.
Weeds have this miraculous ability to grow three times faster than anything you might actually want to eat, and emerge from somewhere just above the Earth’s mantle. No matter how far you dig, you can never find out where they start. Within three weeks, our beautifully tilled ground was a mass of everything from bindweed to marigolds. The digging had to resume, but the kids had moved on to pastures new.
Then there’s Dave. Enthusiastic he undoubtedly is. But Dave, do we really need 50 cauliflowers? I like cauliflower but, we’ll be eating the stuff forever. And Dave, there is a limit to how much beetroot you can eat before something very scary happens to your own plumbing system. And potatoes? He must have a contract with Walkers Crisps or McDonalds. Then, we realised, that anything we did grow would mature at precisely the same time. In June we’d be in plenty, by August the whole lot will have rotted.
Our fate for 2025 is set. What will be, will be. But next year our strategy will be different. Next year we will decide in advance what crops we will grow, and how much of each. We might add in a little crop rotation to keep the pests at bay. And if we really get our act together, we might think of a few crops we could grow that mature in October or November. Oh yes. And we need to sack Dave!
The modern concept of allotments emerged with the General Enclosure Act of 1845, which aimed to provide ‘field gardens’ for the landless poor. Later legislation, such as the Small Holdings and Allotments Acts of 1907 and 1908, required councils to provide allotments if there was demand. Allotments gained further importance during the World Wars, especially through campaigns like ‘Dig for Victory’, which encouraged people to grow their own food.