Christmas has gone, and so have my spuds

I’m pleased to report Christmas dinner back at Moog HQ was a success. My allotment provided three of the vegetables on the table, even though it’s been months since the end of the growing season. The lamb was particularly nice seasoned with my own garlic and rosemary. The butcher kindly sawed the knuckle for Moog to enjoy, too!



Unfortunately this delicious meal also spelled the end for my stored potatoes, but they lasted really well and I didn’t throw any away. I tipped half a tray of scalding vegetable oil all over the floor whilst trying to roast them, but I didn’t lose any spuds! I’m now very impatiently waiting for my order of new tubers to be delivered so I can start chitting them ready for the new season. I hope they arrive soon; it’s a tense time. They took ages to arrive last year, but it’s a gamble; if they don’t arrive I won’t be able to get replacements as all the garden centres will sell out. I’m sure they’ll be here soon; I’ve got Moog looking out for the postman.

I’m also back to buying carrots from the supermarket, boo! It’s only now we’ve gone back to mass-produced varieties that we can really tell the difference in taste. Mine were so much more, err, carroty, than the ones you can buy in the shops.

My own parsnips also taste much better. I cooked a massive pot full of these on Christmas day and there were hardly any leftovers, which I take to be a good sign. I’ve got a few still in the ground which Moog thinks we should lift and roast soon, because the tops have now been virtually killed off by the cold. The roots are storing well in the soil but with no tops, I can’t find them!

We took advantage of one of the less cold days lately to dig up the remainder of the tiny leeks, which had started to attract the attention of some local wildlife (I presume hungry rabbits). This, at least, shows it’s not been a waste of time protecting crops with wire. Although small, they cook up alright and taste better than shop-bought ones too. Next job: plant some more!

Where has John been... and beans

I noticed my neigbour John's plot starting to look overgrown, most unusual, and slightly worrying. The last time I saw John was about a month ago, when he arrived with a heavy heart to bury his recently deceased tortoise (same age as me, incidentally). Moog thinks that'll make a nice surprise for the next tenant of that plot, one day. John told me he now wishes he hadn't planted quite so much lettuce.

Happily I saw John again this week and it turns out he's been away on holiday, followed by a bad knee, so all is well. He thought we were suffering a bunny invasion, but it turned out he mistook Moog's burrowings for rabbit holes, and luckily I was able to put him straight as to their origin.

I reported in an earlier post that my first batch of French beans had rotted before germination. I have since found out that the same happened to a fellow allotment holder and work colleague Martyn, and, to my great surprise, my super-allotment neighbour John. So, it's obviously not something I did wrong, which is nice.

Success! (for now at least)

Previous impatient trips to check on progress of the garlic bulbs have been met with bare soil, so I was somewhat dubious that anything would happen.

On one such visit over Christmas, I found pawprints, and a hole dug in the middle of my garlic patch. So I duly fixed up some posts and chicken wire, to keep out whatever it was that had visited ("got a rabbit problem, sir?" the shop assistant quizzed. "Cheaper to shoot the rabbits, sir," he said, when he saw the price of the wire I was buying). I do feel special, that out of the whole enormous allotment site of over 120 plots, this little creature chose to visit mine. I may well fence off my whole plot soon, as my experienced neighbour has done, rather than mess about fencing off each little bit. It may be more work at first but should be worth it in the long run. Still, fence up; no garlic.

But this week was different. I popped down to the site laden with bags of fresh horse manure, free from a local paddock. The sun was, unusually, out from behind the clouds, and as I walked down the slippery track I thought I caught a glimpse of a fresh green stalk through the wire- could it be true? I daren't look directly at it! I scurried past and dumped down the bag of shi- I mean, manure, with my back to the garlic bed. Then I snapped round quickly to catch it unawares, and - nothing. No- wait- a trick of the light! Hurrah! virtually every bulb has started to grow!



I can't help being excited, even though I haven't harvested a single thing yet.

Moog thinks: "We're going to stink, if we eat all that garlic."