The Parsnip Incident

As the Manchester United and Chelsea games are being played today, and being male I don't need to think about Christmas shopping until next week-end, I had absolutely no excuse to not visit the old allotment yesterday. I couldn't even rely on the rain to keep me away. Having lashed it down all last week, yesterday (and today for that matter) have turned into beautiful, crisp bright winter days. The shallow angle of the sun seemed to increase its intensity this morning, and although very beautiful, it proved pretty hazardous as I took my daughter for a driving lesson. At the time of writing I can confirm that my nerves have begun to settle down since we came back.

Yesterday morning started with a gentle frost on the car windscreen which reminded me that now was a good time to sample some of my parsnips for the first time this winter. These were planted from seed earlier in June, and have been earmarked for Christmas Day dinner. The idea is to impress the mother-in-law in my perennial mission to prove to her that her daughter did not marry a complete waster on that bright March day in 1985. I am told that you should leave your parsnips until they have been subject to a few days frost as this has the effect of sweetening them. Would this work on the mother-in-law? Erm, moving on!

So I trooped off down to the plot yesterday, spade in hand, to check on their condition and to make sure that they had not been eaten. Now, those of you that know your parsnips may be somewhat perplexed by this as parsnips do not have any known natural predators, so why my concern? Well, last year I arrived at my allotment on Christmas morning to find that there had been a very localised white Christmas on my parsnip plot. However, it was not the usual white fluffy stuff, but a covering of parsnip flakes. This turned out to be an act of wanton vandalism as none of the vegetables had actually been eaten. They had been gratuitously decimated. I relayed the 'parsnip incident' to my allotmenting chums, but none had ever experienced such grave misfortune, nor could they account for the perpetrator.

As the damage had been caused by a burrowing downwards, I concluded that it must have been a rabbit. Maybe he fancied trying some white carrots, and realised they did not share the sweetness of the orange variety, despite the effects of the frost.

Whoever the culprit was I'm hoping they are 'once bitten twice shy', so that I will have something to bring back on Christmas morning, or woe betide me!

New Boy On The Plot

As you can see from my biography, I outgrew my small garden vegetable plot, or "micro-allotment" as I like to call it, and ventured out into the big world of tenanted gardening. Don't worry, the "micro" is still in commission for the odd lettuce or two. At the time this was quite a nervy step up from the privacy of my back garden, and I suddenly became aware of the watchful gaze of my allotmenting neighbours. My cultivating skills (such as they are) were placed into a strange new competitive environment - not that this would be freely admitted, we allotmenters are far too British for that!

At first I found myself becoming a more self conscious gardener as I didn't want to appear to be a bumbling amateur who had just discovered the latest craze having just watched Monty Don on Gardener's World. "Rank amateur" I could live with, but "bumbling" stinks of incompetence.

Of course, this self aware attitude is all in the mind. What is the point in feeling such competitive pressures? - I'm growing food for goodness sake! Think of the poor carrots, how would they feel if they knew they were being used as competitive pawns?

The reality is that I discovered that great kindness comes to you as the new boy on the plot. The immense generosity and depth of knowledge offered freely and affectionately from my allotmenting neighbours was almost a spiritual experience when it first happened. I found complete strangers offering me a whole range of sound advice on controlling ground elder, and why you should grow sweetcorn in blocks of nine!

It's true that most allotmenters end up growing far too many vegetables as they don't know how many will survive, and as a consequence you will occasionally be offered their excess. I always accept these gifts gratefully, and return the favour with my own over production. This way you end up eating more varieties than you actually grow.

I've realised that there is something about working the soil that brings out the best in people, and looking at the waiting lists for many allotments, there are plenty of people out there eagerly awaiting the chance to enjoy the good life!