Santa's been to town

As each year passes, it must be harder and harder to buy Christmas presents for me. This year has been slightly different with my newly acquired interest in the vegetable patch (scandalously neglected over the past few weeks with the coming of winter).

Dorothy had the brilliant idea of getting me a seed sprouter, complete with alfalfa, lentils and chick peas. She also presented me with the biggest size present of this Christmas - a mushroom growing kit. They're white cap mushrooms and I shall start them off them either today or tomorrow, together with the seed sprouter.

My friend Kate bought me a seed roll, which is just as it says - a roll with seeds, flowers in this case. Apparently, I just unroll it, put in the ground, cover it with a bit of soil and go away again. It'll be great to see it.

I walked in the woods with the dog on Christmas Day, stalking at a discrete distance another man with his dog. The bloke was on the mobile phone almost the whole time. What did he get out of the joys of nature?

Talking of Christmas Day gives me the opportunity to mention my beloved parsley. We had it in stuffing balls for our dinner. Made all the difference.

Parsley talk

We held a pre-Christmas dinner party the other night, managing to get 15 people around the table. It was no mean feat in our small house.

Susan and Dorothy put on a magnificent spread of curries and desserts, which everybody liked. As well as doing fetching, carrying and cleaning, my contribution was again the parsley I have been growing. I moaned last time it was supplied for a meal that nobody had mentioned it. That was so this time, with the addition that even I had forgotten about it by the time it came to eating.

Such is life, but where would we be without parsley?

More frosty thoughts

I've had the monthly email newsletter from the splendid allotment advice website run by John Harrison and he has something to say about the cold snap.

He writes: "There's a really hard frost on the ground, which is good news. A good cold winter is just what we want to kill off those slugs and other beasties that think we grow our crops for their benefit."

A positive way of looking at the weather, I feel. Hard on the slugs, though.

Jack Frost visits

Woke up yesterday morning to a heavy frost all around, as it had been on the previous day. The vegetable plot, tucked away in a sheltered area, was still frosty when I inspected it at noon. Whiteness gleamed on the green manure, a pretty enough sight to my eyes.

Something had been walking across the plot, its small paw prints embedded in the hard ground. I suspect it may have been a cat, out on its rounds in our neighbourhood.

Later on I was to walk in the woods with our dog. I wore my woolly bobble hat for the first time this winter, something of a necessity in the cold for a man with thinning hair.

I was lucky enough to see three deer in the woods. They disappeared from sight when they saw me, although it was more of an amble than a run. Indeed, one of the animals stopped for a good look at me - a gaze which I returned. Do they go home, I wonder, and tell their mates they have seen a man down the woods?

A winter's musing

It was bitterly cold here last night and we had fully expected snow by the morning. Alas, or hoorah, depending on your view, there was none when I opened the curtains, just evidence that it had rained overnight. Yet talking to folk during the morning I learned that it had snowed in Dunfermline, Kent and Bingley, just a dozen miles from us. Funny how weather works.

I was able to get out and have a brief look at the vegetable patch, clearing it of leaves and other detritus which had blown on to the soil. I strongly suspect something has been into a few of the holes I made for the garlic and has made off with it. Only time will tell.

And what did I spy? A small piece of broken china, just lying on top of the dirt. Where did that come from?

Just a bit baffled

As I have said before, my opportunities for tending to the vegetable patch are a bit limited these days. It's dark when I get home and fairly soon it will be dark when I get up.

Today being Saturday I had the chance for a look. There's nothing happening much there at the moment, just a some chives and a bit of garlic planted and waiting.

What puzzled me, though, was the green manure - the phacelia tanacetifolia. Now the patch is divided into two distinct halves with a bit of paving down the middle for met to stand on. The phacelia is growing fine on one half, but not on the other. The bit where it is not taking is also the part where I had the lettuce and spinach which didn't take.

Is there something wrong with the soil? And why? It's virtually the same patch, after all. I'm mystified.

The proof of the pudding...

A lot of activity in the house this morning as we had invited guests for Sunday lunch. All three of us were involved in busy preparations for Dick and Liz, who we hadn't seen for a couple of years, and friend Jan, who knew Dick way back.

Dorothy made the canapies for starters and Bakewell tart for dessert, while Susan did ham and a leek and potato au gratin. My contribution was some of the parsley I have been growing in the conservatory.

It was all very nice and plenty of compliments were made. Inexplicably, no-one mentioned my parsley. But I was able to sit back with a warm inner glow, knowing this was something I had grown myself.

Now hear this, now hear this: Veg patch under attack

It's a great blessing of where we live that there is so much wildlife around. Badgers, deer, foxes, rabbits and squirrels (not red, sadly) make their home nearby. Some folk have even reported the Beast of Brighouse just a short distance away. If such a thing exists it must have been in our woods, perfect lair for it.

I've complained in the past about something digging a big hole in the veg patch, but really I wouldn't be without our animals. They can't go to Tesco.

Little did I expect, however, the latest intruder. Surveying the plot this morning, I found a spent firework. Twas a rocket, no doubt from the organised display held near us last night.

It put me in mind of when I was a lad and your dad nailed Catherine wheels to the shed door and let off those crazy aeroplane fireworks that darted in all directions. Ah, happy days! We survived. Mind you, I'm glad I became a dad after they tightened up on these things and banned them. I'd have been the first to be got. 

The man who planted garlic

A nice autumn day today, dull but not too chilly or raining. It's windy, though, because that's the nature of where we live. You could have sailing boats becalmed at sea and there would still be gusts of wind at our house.

With the clocks having gone back last weekend, I have been unable to tend to my small plot during the week as it is dark by the time I get back from work. This morning was a time for surveying the scene, rooting out a few weeds that have grown hold and getting rid of leaves that are all over the place.

Took the opportunity to pop in a few cloves of garlic around the edges, probably about a dozen holes altogether. Sadly, they are shop-bought rather than any rare or organic type. I think I might move into that sort of thing later when I've got the hang of this thing.

Anyway, the garlic is in now before the frosts come and I gather I just sit back and wait until they start to appear sometime next year. It was a near run thing that I got them in at all as our dog Dolly decided to come out and help me dig. At least her willingness to be near garlic proves she is devoid of any vampiristic tendencies.

Giving garlic a go

One of the nicest smells around is garlic. It will hit you occasionally while on a walk in woods and it is sublime.

Should I grow it? I recently read an article saying that it is traditional to plant garlic on the shortest day and enjoy it on the longest. More practically, an allotment website tells me the time is now, although the job will easily hold over until November. I'll give it a go.

An intruder calls

The days are getting shorter as we edge towards winter. I find it almost impossible to go out in the garden when I get home from work. Soon my opportunities will be restricted to the weekends when we put the clocks back (or is it forward? And do we get another hour in bed or an hour less? You know, that twice-yearly argument).

Carrying out an inspection this morning, before the rain came on, I discovered three or four holes in the vegetable patch. One was quite deep. Susan says it will have been squirrels as they like burying things. This squirrel neither buried anything or covered it up. What was the point?

The red cabbage I pickled has proved to be delicious and I shall make some more soon. Continuing my new regime, I shall be knocking up a Christmas cake this afternoon with ingredients all sourced from the shop. It's a recipe by Stephen Jackson, owner of the Weavers Shed restaurant in Golcar, Huddersfield, and it just struck me, 'This is something I could do'. A good thing about it is that it involves beer and there should be a decent amount left over.

A visitor calls

My mate Alex 'Pip' Paton (he's a bit posh but knows about gardening) came bearing gifts.

As well as a pile of magazines including The Oldie (I like it and I'm but a young 'un), he had some vegetable stuff for me. There's was a splendid Reader's Digest Gardening Year, a couple of catalogues and the 50th anniversary edition of Organic Way - good reading material.

With his package of gifts was a bunch of chives ready to plant out. I can do it now, he says, so I will. Apparently, they will die back a bit and then thrive later on.

He's noticed that I've been reading Maye E Bruce's book on compost and suggests I should try Gardening with Compost, by F C King. The author's name sounds suspiciously made up to me.

Oh Lord, the expense of it all

I've been musing over the pickling and the sheer cost of it.

We of course had only two or three jam jars, so had to obtain more receptacles. Luckily, Wilkinson's had a sale on and we were able to pick up some Kilner jars at a cheap price. What a fine object is a Kilner jar, there's something deeply satisfying about holding one in your hand.

Then, as mentioned before, there was the driving about to find pickling onions and all the petrol that entailed. Not to mention carbon footprints, I suppose. And the vinegar, salt and pickling spices.

It might have been cheaper to go online and order a jar of Fortnum and Masons best (I'll be fashionable here and not include an apostrophe).

But (and there had to be a but, didn't there?) I would have missed out on the sheer satisfaction of achieving something. 

A strange odour fills the kitchen

I've taken the pickling idea a stage further - and actually done it. Two big jars of pickled onions and two small ones of pickled red cabbage are on their way. The kitchen has a certain pungency to it and our dog and cat seem to want to go out all the time.

It was a lot harder than we both thought to get pickling onions, the first three shops not having any. Not only that, but they didn't seem to have had any (at least not on that day). Maybe it's a tad too early for them, I don't know. We finally got lucky in the fourth shop we visited. It was evident there had been a run on them so perhaps shops that don't stock pickling onions are missing a trick or two.

The recipe I used for the onions came originally from Susan's great-grandmother, so it's authentic Derbyshire stuff. The recipe for the red cabbage is from a book put together by the Halifax Courier and was one sent in by a reader, c1960. The old ways are best.

There's been a lot of talk on the news today about share prices plunging, banks in trouble and the whole country of Iceland going belly up in the economic crisis. I'm pulling up my imaginary drawbridge, comfortable in the knowledge that I have pickled onions and cabbage to keep us going. 

Onions, onions, all I want

My attention has turned to the possibility of pickling onions. I'm going to give it a go.

Seems like it will be a satisfying process and not all that difficult to do, except everyone seems to have their own favourite method of doing it. I'll just have to think what's best for me and get on with it.

One slight trouble is that we don't seem to have that many jars, although it's possible there's a stack somewhere in the cellar. Must go and have a root round.

Needless to say, I didn't get to Dewsbury Onion Fair today. Never mind, there's always next year.

Lady Muck entertains

As the evenings draw in and a chill fills the air, we are gathering around the fire with two jumpers on (as recommended by gas company after they hiked their prices). It is a time for reading and my favourite at the moment is Common-Sense Compost Making, by Maye E Bruce.

This little book was first published in 1946 by Faber & Faber. My copy came to me via a car boot sale and is the 1967 revised edition by Lady Eve Balfour. The author spent a lifetime trying to perfect the art of compost making and this is her account of the quick return method which she devised after much experimentation.

Ooh, and she weren't half posh! Look at this for a sample:

Before the war I had a staff of three men: a chauffeur-handyman, who also mowed
the lawns, and two men in the garden...the whole place is 150 acres...in 1940
the whole staff joined up and in their place I had one very old
man.

I'm thinking of getting Susan and daughter Dorothy to do all the stirring when I finally get my compost bin.

Oo, I am awful!

Today I have mostly been pricking out. What state is my brain in that all the time it's trying to think of a good bit of innuendo to go with this? Where is Kenneth Williams when you need him?

With initial guidance from Susan, I transplanted herbs from the seed trays into pots. It's a pleasant and relaxing activity, as is all this vegetable and herb lark. The only anxiety is when you're waiting for the buggers to pop their heads above the soil.

Still, the herbs seem to have come on nicely so far. Except, and there's always an except, for the cress and mint. The cress doesn't seem to have taken at all and neither does the mint, which was in a slightly smaller container. No idea why, but they don't get a second chance. Everything has now either been potted up or ditched on to the garden outside. 

Suppose I'll have to think about taking up cooking now. 

Doing the Monster Mash (not)

When I had my first trip around the garden centre, I saw they had seeds for monster vegetables. There's been an interesting review in the Independent of The Biggest Beetroot in the World, a book by Michael Leapman. He follows five growers of big vegetables through a year of expensive upkeep and brutally competitive judging shows. There's no money in any of it and the veg is inedible, apparently.
 
There's a mention in the book of the annual Dewsbury Onion Fair, not far down the road from me and which I notice is being held this year on October 4. Classes include single largest onion, three heaviest and best dressed. Think I will go along and have a look, but I'm not tempted in the slightest. What's the point of veg you can't eat?

Thoughts of nudism

I'm reading an interesting book by Lucas Bridges called Uttermost Part of the Earth, published in 1948 and the story of his life in the late 19th century and early 20th century on the island of Tierra del Fuego, on the tip of South America. He tells a story about visiting an elderly Indian native on her death-bed in the 1880s. She had been brought to London in the 1830s and presented to King William IV. Fascinating that in one bound I'm taken from someone who lived in my lifetime to the years before Queen Victoria's reign.

Any road, the point is that Tierra del Fuego is one of the most inhospitable places on earth. Think the wild seas of Cape Horn and very few days without rain, slush, hail or snow. Bridges relates in his book how there were gardens on these islands and relates that one couple managed to serve up strawberries and cream to visitors.

So why the hell haven't I been able to get veg to grow in my patch? Apparently, the nomadic people of Tierra del Fuego dressed sparingly, a remarkable feat given the cold climate. Should I give it a go?

A good wheeze

I'm slightly off track with this posting, but we visited Bodnant Garden in north Wales this morning. Not a single vegetable in sight as far as I could see, apart from seed packets in the shop, but it's such a beautiful and relaxing place. Mind you, they've got 14 full-time gardeners plus volunteers. I'm thinking of bequeathing my property to the National Trust so they can maintain it for me.

Now that's what I like - it's cheap

My friend Steve has been in contact today and has sent me an article from the Guardian about gardening on the cheap. It's fascinating reading and gives some useful and practical tips. Well done to writer Alys Fowler for inspiring me.

Obviously, no sign of the Phacelia tanacetifolia coming through yet. Steve says they're tough buggers and will probably see out any frost. 

Herbs are coming on nicely, though, and it seems highly likely to me that I will have to do something about them soon. Apparently, it's a process called pricking out. No comment.

Hunger stalks the land

The harvest has officially failed.

After taking advice from Susan, I have reached the view that the crops will not come through now after all the rain we have had. As I have said before, it was always going to be risky starting the plot when I did. The gamble has failed to come off.

This morning I gave the unused part of the plot a good turning over. Ditto with the other part, where I had been trying to grow lettuce, spinach and rocket. It all got dug over.

I then scattered the Phacelia tanacetifolia which my pals Steve and Marianne recommended as green manure. Or, as it said on the packet, 'broadcast' the seeds. What a delightful word! Roll on early next year when I'll start again.

With no food growing, I now face a trip to Tesco to top up supplies. Or Lidl as we now call it in these hard times that we are experiencing as the economy plunges downwards. (Hey! It's not my fault, says Mr Brown. Funny that,  I seem to remember he was taking the praise when it was going relatively well).

Or, I could book passage to America and start a new life. Except that I don't fancy dancing a jig in the hold all the way across the Atlantic.

 

The potato planter turns out to be...a potato planter

In a previous posting, I speculated on whether the potato planter tool had another name or not. I did a quick search on Google and failed to find an alternative.

My mate Steve, who sent me his photograph of one, says he's never heard it called anything other than a potato planter. I think he should know as he is an expert in his field (not to mention his allotment).

Yet my wife Susan still insists there is another name. She used to work in the Museum of Lincolnshire Life, where they had thousands of agricultural implements in stock, and believes she came across it there. Perhaps the name they used was peculiar to Lincolnshire. 

Eh! It's getting a bit like the hunt for the yeti or bigfoot. The truth is out there somewhere...

In the meantime, I have discovered the herb cutter, a handy device for the kitchen. I tried one in my friend Jan's kitchen the other day to chop her herbs as she was preparing a meal and it was brilliant. My problem as a left-hander is that I find a lot of implements and such like, including scissors, are set up for right-handed people and I can't handle them properly. (That's my excuse anyway, and I'm sticking to it). The herb cutter wasn't like that - even I got it to work.

Susan says I have had a very sheltered life never to have heard of a herb cutter.

Universally challenged

Marooned in the house because of the incessant rain, it's still constant thinking instead of action on the vegetable patch.

My mate Steve has sent me a message about potatoes and how he looks forward to the planning and the planting. He sent with it a photograph of his wife Marianne with their 'spud planter'. My wife Susan thought the tool had a proper name, but couldn't for the life think of it. Neither could I.

The gaps in our knowledge are remarkable at times - or is it a sign of memory fading?

There's a photograph of it shown above. I haven't edited Marianne out of it through aesthetic reasons, but rather because some people don't like their image put all over the internet. Ony right to respect privacy.

Planning ahead

Just spent an enjoyable 30 minutes or so looking through my vegetable planting book and planning ahead. Mapped out rough timetable for early next year to include planting of broad beans, peas, French beans, potatoes and lettuce. Might not be enough room for anything else, but we'll see.

It's amazing how engrossed you can get in the literature - and that's all I can do at the moment with the perpetual rain there's been. Had a brief look at the plot tonight and could have sworn I saw something coming through. I did, I did. Could I be wrong with my fears that everything has been washed out?

Watch this space, as the cliche goes.

Revving up again

My mate Alex 'Pip' Paton (he's a bit posh) has offered to give me his Reader's Digest Gardening Book.

Bloody good of him as I am sorely in need of advice, both verbal and written. I'm heartened by the friends who are supporting me in this little project. I think my energy had dipped a little after planting the seeds and getting no growth, but I'm back in the driving seat now and planning ahead for autumn and winter.

Mm...green manure. Something to savour

My friends Steve and Marianne, who know all there is know about growing vegetables, urge me to be optimistic about my little patch. Some seeds might wake up and have a look above ground, they tell me.

In particular, they warn me about autumn digging and leaving the sods bare for winter frost to break up.

Here's what they say:

"Soil is a living structure , and needs to interact with plant roots. Only dig ground and put in manure and/or compost just as you're about to sow/plant crops. If you have bare soil grow a green manure in it. One of the best is Phacelia tanacetifolia, which you might have seen growing on our plot. It's not related to any crop plants, so it won't affect your
rotation. Bees love its flowers. It's incredibly easy to pull up and compost. (Don't try the digging in idea: too much hard work!) Phacelia seed is hideously expensive though, but it goes a long way."

Needless to say, I had been planning on leaving the soil bare. I'd never heard of Phacelia or even green manure. Having boned up on it all, I believe I will give it a go.

They get theirs from the Organic Gardening Catalogue and I reckon I will do the same. In fact, I'll peruse it to see if I can buy anything else at the same time for when I do start planting.

Face the facts: It's rubbish

I bought a copy of the Guardian for the first time in ages on Saturday. Advice given in the money section for allotment holders included 'Why not sell your spare produce at a roadside kiosk?'

Blimey! It's just laughable and a vivid reminder of why I gave up newspapers. I used to get so exasperated with the Observer for this sort of trite. I forget how many times they suggested I let my house out as a film set.

Mustn't blame the writers, I suppose. They've got oceans  of print to fill and fill it they must. But it does seem to me one of the many reasons that dead tree journalism is on the way out.

Amazing finds on dig

Actually, I've been quite disappointed at the lack of broken blue and white china while doing the extensive digging job on the vegetable patch. There's been nothing, just minging weeds.

The one thing I did find, though, was the item in the photograph. At first I thought it was a handy little trowel. Turns out to be a cake slice.

Bon appetit!

Not good news

I reckon the seeds I planted on the vegetable plot must have had it after the heavy rain.

It was always going to be a chance planting at this time of the year, but I thought that would have been because of a long and sultry August. Little did I realise that it would be torrential downpours for most of the time. The result, I think, is that all growing has been scuppered.

I'll do a definite check over the weekend (when I have three days off work - hooray!). But I feel there's no hope. All part of a learning curve. I'll just utilise the hiatus by preparing the ground a bit more for when I plant again.

Better news on the herbs I'm nurturing in the conservatory. They all seem to be sprouting, with the chervil ahead of the parsley and cress. Must look up what I can do with them when I take up cooking.

Ooh err! Something's growing

Can you see what it is yet, as Rolf Harris might say.

It's something growing in the seed trays in the conservatory. I never thought the day would come, but here it is. Something nurtured by me.

The herb is chervil. All I've got to do now is find out what chervil is and what I do with it. I'm not going to mention the foolish thought that the word sounds like gerbil.

Looking good.

The man is back (he never went away)

I'm back after too long away from the blog. I know the thing with blogging is to do it and do it regularly, no matter how small the entry. The truth is I've been a bit distracted by having to return to work and do other things in the evening when I get home.

Still, the vegetable patch is still there, although looking a little sorry for itself. I fear the seeds might not come up because it's just been pouring with rain almost the whole time since I planted them. Ah well, that's the nature of the game - I'm not despondent.

There's been a bit of conservatory action, though. I've planted some herbs in seed trays and I'm hoping they'll be successful. I've got (or should have) mint, cress, chervil and organic parsley.

Outside, I've covered the two lines of seed I planted with sticks to keep animals off and dug over the unused part again. Also, I've dug out a huge plant to increase the space available.

I'm happy. Patience is the name of the game.

The secret garden

And here's another little plot I have been keeping secret from you all. Actually, its micro size. But I like it.

I cleared it out of weeds and stones in order to create a little space for rhubarb. And that's what it has now got in it - one crown, to be precise. I'm not all that sure I've bedded it in properly, but we'll see. I'm quite prepared for disappointment, I gather it's the name of the game in this growing lark.

Mmm, rhubarb. Is it too ambitious to think there will be custard in a couple of years made with milk from my own cow? Who knows? If the economy really does go belly up...

A proud day

Phew! Dodged the rain today and finally got my first seeds in - a bit of lettuce, rocket and spinach.

I'm a proud man, but I fully accept people will think I've been making heavy weather of this. Perhaps I have. But to me - a lazy, overweight slob - this is a landmark event.

Do I just sit back now and wait for food to grow? Or do I have to mount an armed guard to protect my land? It's a mixture of fingers crossed and keep checking for weeds and slugs, I guess.

I'm well satisfied, see how it goes before I get more ambitious. Dying to try out the Cherokee Trail of Tears seeds.

He's a slacker...he's a slacker...!

Yet another confession - not one thing has been done on the old veg patch today. Heavy rain is my latest excuse. Am I being too optimistic in believing there is an optimum temperature for this sort of thing? In Britain?

Still, I did go to the garden centre again and actually bought some things this time. Chicken manure, lettuce seeds, two types of rhubarb and spinach. Perhaps you're wondering why sweets were the first three of the six items. Er...would sugar boost do?

Am on my own this weekend, so should have plenty of time to get out there. 

The vanishing act

I became a true British workman today. All the signs were put up around the vegetable plot and then I disappeared for the day.

Not a stroke of work was done as we all went off for the day to Sheffield to see the Vivienne Westwood exhibition at the Millennium Galleries. It is my holiday, after all. It was a great show and well worth seeing.

Must get out into the garden tomorrow and make progress.

The flag flies proudly

This post seems to have taken on an American flavour recently, so I'll redress the balance by showing the flag. And why shouldn't I be proud? I've done a lot (for me).

Actually, I haven't done so much today. After I gave the ground a thorough turning over, it got too hot so I had a walk down to the local garden centre to get some ideas.

There was a great surprise in the post this morning from my friends Marianne and Steve in Ramsgate. They sent me three packets of heritage seeds - French beans, broad beans and peas. 

The French bean goes by the name Cherokee Trail of Tears, evocative but very sad. These were grown by the Cherokee on their forced migration from their homelands to a reservation, I'm told.

A tiring day out in the lower field

Dig...dig...dig...dig...dig...dig...dig...dig...It's a hard job, but I've broken the back of the initial digging now.

Some people may think I'm making too much of it, but it's a big step for me. Bereft of exercise for years, overweight and out of condition, this really is a major challenge for me. It's dead tiring, but I'm happy that I've got as far as I have.

I've cleared all the ground today of weeds and, I suppose, plants, and given it a perfunctory turning over. Tomorrow I'll give the soil a really good going over, removing all the stones and roots I can see. Then I'll sling in some fertiliser laden with chemicals and stick in some of those genetically-modified tomatoes (only kidding).

I shed about a gallon of perspiration today with this unaccustomed work, so I'm off now to have a well-deserved bath.

The man is for turning

I'm a bit happier today - as well as a lot more sweaty and about a stone slimmer through exertion.

Finally got started last night in the cool of the evening and made a bit of progress with the digging. Continued this morning after jumping out of bed early because it seemed a bit cooler. Perspiration pouring off me, but I'm pleased that I've managed to dig a good chunk out although I fully realise there's a long way to go yet.

I found last night that if you want to get ahead, get a dog. The photo is of our cocker spaniel Dolly who, it turns out, is ace at digging. Look at her tongue. First, unleash your dog. Then, sit back in the chair with a beer. Recommended. (PS we weren't trying to hang her. She just needs tying up because she tends to be naughty about going off).

One small step for man

Why the two photos? Well, there's some controversy that both were faked for the camera. It does look as though I'm not putting my back into the digging, but this was more of a ceremonial event to mark at least a bit of a start.

I'm not sure if the photo shows it well, but it was very hot outside. Too sweltering to go at it, really, especially for one who's not fit. Still, I've had a little survey of the ground and am confident I'll succeed.

Slight change of plan on where I am to dig. Susan pointed out a much better spot, very overgrown, just in front of the shed and behind a big bush. It desperately needs clearing out anyway, so why not there? Saves digging up the lawn at the moment, although it's possible I'll utilise a bit of it in the future.

I've got a cane in each corner of the plot now, raring to go. Please let it be cooler tomorrow.

Houston, we have a problem

You'll notice my absence from the site of the plot. How do I explain this? It's just too damn hot to go out into the garden - hence the distinct lack of activity you can see in this photograph.

My friend Steve had warned that today was due to be very hot so the main activity of his and Marianne's day would be an allotment picnic with home-brew vino. Jokingly, he added they would be thinking of me as I was digging through the snowdrifts to find my garden. Ha, ha!

It was Susan who first broached the subject of the heat, honest. And she's right - on holiday I got horribly scorched within an hour or so.

So, a slight delay in the project. Alex 'Pip' Paton (he's a bit posh) was right to include a beer barrel, glass and deckchair on his suggested masterplan. Only I shall be doing my drinking inside.

Is this the masterplan?

My friend Alex 'Pip' Paton has sent the above plan after hearing my news. Despite his aristocatic background, he is not afraid of getting his hands dirty and knows a thing or two about gardening.

I particularly like his suggestion of a barrel of  'gardener's fuel' with adjacent pint glass. However, I fear I will have to reject it in favour of hard work.

In the circumstances, I will not be paying his suggested consultancy fee. But he may get some broad beans in lieu of cash.

His wife Alison intimates (in a polite way)  some incredulity at my project. My friends know me all too well.

She suggests soft fruit and asks if I want raspberry canes and strawberry plants.

Mm, more food for thought. But what's really needed is a bit of action on my part.

It's what friends are for...

Friends have been nothing but supportive over my little project to create a vegetable plot in the garden.

Marianne and Steve know a thing or two about this as they have a thriving allotment near their home in Ramsgate, freely admitting they practically live there. (That's it above).

They're thinking that the space I'm planning might soon expand once I get in the swing of things. Their offer of seeds of crimson-flowered broad-beans and Magnum Bonum is one I might well take up once I know what I'm doing and what produce I need.

My friend Kate suggests I may have left it a little late to plant most things in the veg patch - adding that I should go for salad stuff and could also try spinach beet.

I'm a little worried about animals getting too interested in the plot once it gets going. My daughter Dorothy had a close encounter with a badger at the weekend, which scampered off into the garden, and I saw a fox walking up the lane last night. Are they interested in this sort of thing (foodwise I mean, not in a philosophical way).

Kate says badgers like digging up lawns to look for worms most and hers ignores the veg patch. Jan, a long time friend from Leeds who now lives in Bingley, thinks the rabbits are the critters to keep away from the veg garden - so no lettuce/carrots.

She also says: "Beans are really good to grow - runner beans as well as broad beans - bugs seem to pass them by and bees love the flowers. Ten to a dozen plants don't take up much room - supported on canes they produce a glut of beans that means you can put loads in the freezer for t'winter."

A salivating thought. All that's needed now is a bit of action on my part.

It's coming, it's coming.

My vegetable patch

I have decided to create a vegetable patch in our garden.

It's a big step for someone who doesn't know a seed from a pip (are they the same?) or anything about planting and maintenance. Or, indeed, likes work. Nevertheless, the decision is made. 

Why I've said it, I just don't know. It just came out in the pub - we hadn't been talking about that sort of thing and I hadn't even had it in my mind on that day. Now I'm declaring it publicly on this blog and to my friends, so I've got to do it.

Hard digging is the first task, as I plan to use about one-third of our garden. Some lawn will have to go, along with bushes, and then the earth turned over (is that what they do?)

I'll try to be as organic as possible. Don't know yet at this stage what I'll be planting, but broad beans, rhubarb and potatoes are on the list.

This is a picture of our garden from the front bedroom. I intend to dig up the section at the rear on the left.

Today I have booked a week's holiday next week to start doing it. Got to follow through now or will look a fool.

By the way, daughter Dorothy proved industrious today and repainted the green shed you can see. Good job.

Wish me luck