I’ve had the allotment for almost four months now – long enough to get to know some of the faces and something of the rhythmn of life in this corner of Beckenham. And all in all I have to say it’s very pleasant.
First, the people. They come in all shapes and sizes. As you’d expect, there are the allotment cliches, the old boys who’ve been working their plots for decades. Ron, who has a towering apple tree that he planted from seed, is a fine and friendly example of the breed. These guys are proving to be a source of wisdom and knowledge, and are rapidly accelerating my gardening education.
There are also plenty of families, signalled by the plots with slides and swings dotting their edges, and by their children who pass the time by chasing each other around screaming and squealing. And then there are the individuals whom I see regularly but haven’t yet got to know – the Caribbean bloke who always drives his car up to the end of his plot, skittering along the edge of the beds on his way, or the chap in the suit who pops in to weed and water most evenings before driving off in his Jaguar.
They’re a sociable lot, as you’d imagine, and friendly. One of the joys I’ve discovered is stopping on the way or from my plot to chew the cud about fruit and veg and life in general. For all her undoubted qualities, Mrs Drooling can’t really hold her own when it comes to discussing the comparative merits of bush versus cordon tomatoes, but now I have a whole world of people where the only thing we have in common is precisely that!
And their kindness and helpfulness extends beyond the dishing out of sage advice. Chatting to Will the other day, he gave me a little tour of his plot, pointing out everything growing and the stories behind them. We got to talking about squashes and the different varieties we were planning on growing. He mentioned the banana squashes he’d had such luck with the previous year. I expressed admiration and thought no more of it.
A couple of days later, when I dropped in one evening to water, I found a little plastic bag taped to the side of my compost heap – a present courtesy of Will. I think I’m going to enjoy life down the allotment.
On the ipod while ruminating on the joys of allotment life: Cavalleria Rusticana / Mascagni. Nothing wrong with a bit of culture every now and then.