Time is an illusion

Over the weekend I was accused by a friend of being old before my time. Judging by my screaming back muscles after an afternoon of digging the plot on Sunday, I wondered if he wasn’t far off the mark.

But what does old, or indeed time, actually mean? I’m reminded of a Douglas Adams quote: Time is an illusion; lunchtime, doubly so.”

For example, time is dilated for the young. My five-year old niece was bitterly disappointed that the seeds she had chosen in the garden centre didn’t germinate overnight. Then, a week later, when called in to see the magical little seedlings starting to sprout, she was still disappointed, if not completely indifferent to them. I suppose from her perspective, she’s got a point. After all, seedlings look nothing like the picture on the packet, and nothing like the ranks of perfect nursery-grown plants on sale, either. With only tales of the magic beanstalk to base her knowledge of seeds on, she can’t be expected to think long-term.

There was a time when I lived for the moment, too. I still do in some ways, preferring not to let words like ‘pension’ or ‘savings’ tarnish an otherwise good day, but in other ways my age is showing. I used to drink to get drunk, and hang the consequences. Now, I’m ever so careful not to get a hangover. I just can’t stand losing a whole day.

So, I wondered what had caused the change, and if gardening really had made me old before my time. I certainly can’t take things one day at a time any more. How could I? If I didn’t prepare things last autumn, I’d have no garlic this summer. If I didn’t order my potatoes in time, I wouldn’t get to choose the varieties I grow. If I didn’t take the time to dry my onions… the list goes on. In fact, as my hard-working wife will attest, I spend more time wandering up and down the plot, with a crumpled plan waving in the breeze, than I ever spend weeding or digging.

But I’ve decided I’m not old, and gardening is not to blame, because it’s all about the anticipation. From the first moment of putting those seeds in the ground, I’m like a five-year old again, willing them to grow overnight, and wondering what they’re going to look like in the morning.

“Youth is wasted on the young.” – George Bernard Shaw

Now, where’s my flat cap?

Even more free stuff, and wee.

Arriving just too late for my Free Stuff post were about 12 paving slabs, gratefully received from another colleague at work, which will be used as a patio for The Moog to sun himself on. I say 'about 12' because they were so heavy I have lost the power to count over 10.

Next was some free compost activator. Well, wee actually. Sorry, I have to mention this, as Mrs Moog Keeper was horrified that, not to go into too much detail, I had decided to produce my own nitrogen-rich fertiliser. To prove I didn't make it up, here is a quote from The Allotment Keeper's Handbook (not to be confused with the Moog-keeper) p.170:

"...include some human urine to boost nitrogen levels. Yes, you did read that last sentence correctly. Your pee is a high-nutrient treat for your heap, virtually sterile and not in short supply."

Perrone, J. (2007) The Allotment Keeper's Handbook, London, Atlantic Books.

I told you it was true.

More free stuff, "tick V.G."

I thought it was time for a quick Free Stuff update, as it is the allotmentalists favourite type of stuff.

The autumn planting garlic and onions that I received from a work colleague are all doing well. I was given quite a few leftover sets and bulbs, which I bolstered with some more that I had to pay for, so enough about those for now.

Moog and I have recently had a couple of offers of free compost from family members, which is great because I need loads. I have already used up nearly all my compost from last year so any extra is very welcome.

First stop was Wise Mike's, who had too much to use in his own garden and was happy to reclaim some free space in his enormous compost heap. I bought some sturdy bags, which I carefully left at home, but luckily Wise Mike lived up to his name and had some bags ready for me to fill. The compost is lovely stuff, well, lovely once the old socks, bits of wood etc. were sifted out. It has already been used up and I hope to be off to get some more soon. Next stop will be free compost from Moog's favorite auntie, otherwise known as my big sis. So much to do, so little time.

Finally this weekend I have planted the first of my free seeds from Youfarm.org, I decided to get a few lettuces underway. Just a few this time, as I was a bit over-run with lettuce last summer. Also planted, for free, were some marigold seeds harvested from last year's flowers, all planted in free paper pots made at home from free newspapers.

All this talk of free stuff reminds me of The Good Life, they repeated the whole series on UKTV Gold last year and The Moog insisted we watch every episode. Well worth watching, I thought,(1) for jokes surrounding growing your own food, and (2) for the delightful Felicity Kendal.

Tick, V.G.! as Tom Good would say.

Allotments in the news

The National Trust have announced that they're going to turn some of their land over to alloments, which is good news all round now allotments are trendy again. There's lots in the news, this article from The Telegraph is a good example.

Quote:

"Digging the first new potato is better for body and soul than turning into one on a couch."

I couldn't agree more. I've been developing a couch-shaped arse and it's got to stop!

Free seeds

I have been introduced to a character called Phil, who, just likeThe Moog and me, started growing his own vegetables last year. Like me, he enjoyed it, and in fact, was so taken with it, he decided to set up his own venture to get everyone doing the same. What can I say? Respect! Have a look now:
http://www.youfarm.org/

I put my name down for Phil's free seed pack, and here it is, some things I've grown before, some I haven't. Looking forward to getting them started. My favourites are the Swede (because they are such small seeds) and the spinach (because they are green).

Insert snow-based pun here.

Well there's nothing I can do outside this week, with Broken Britain in the grip of Arctic snows.
I popped down after the first dusting of white stuff on Monday to take some photos of plot 29, but it's not really very picturesque at Stacey Hill. I thought the old farm machinery in the museum yard next door looked quite forlorn, so I took pictures of that instead.

Mouse in the House

In the excitement of a visit to the plot, it's remarkably easy to forget things that you wanted to take with you. For me, this applies even to such things as the actual packet of seeds I was going there to plant in the first place. I have now invested in a camo bodywarmer, which as well as making me feel manly, has numerous pockets for me to keep things I always need, like my penknife and bits of string.

To further combat forgetfulness and to reduce the weight of things to carry on my bike, I leave my old walking boots and a waterproof coat in the shed. Unfortunately the coat got taken over by all sorts of creepy crawlies in the autumn and was chucked out. The boots are still there, but I favour wellies at this time of year as the clay sticks like the proverbial sh*t to a blanket. However, as you can no doubt guess, I forgot my wellies last week.

The boots always receive a careful pre-use inspection, especially since I was scared out of my skin by a mouse hiding under a hessian sack. Thankfully, I did not find a mouse. No, during last week's check I found 4 peanuts, carefully stored for future use by some small allotment resident! I tipped them out and left them in a little pile, which was gone by the time I returned. It is a strange feeling to be sharing my shed with invisible guests.