Woody Wilbury

Fans of the Traveling Wilburys http://www.travelingwilburys.com/ will no doubt be familiar with their noms de guerre. Lucky, Otis, Charlie T Jnr, Lefty and Nelson Wilbury played on their first album - Volume 1. By the time of their second album Lefty [aka Roy Orbison] had passed away, leaving only Spike, Muddy, Clayton & Boo Wilbury to entertain us on Volume 3.

Sadly Spike [aka George Harrison] has also now passed away (confused yet?) but the music lives on and has just been re-released.

Anyway, the relevance of this here is that in 2001 I was awarded a Winston Churchill Travelling Fellowship http://www.wcmt.org.uk/ to follow in the footsteps of my botanist and plant collecting hero David Douglas, 1799-1834. Douglas as in Douglas Fir and countless others. I've followed him across Scotland, the USA & Canada, stood where he died in Hawaii and visited his grave in Honolulu.

To mark the start of this journey my wife (Effie Wilbury) decided my nom de guerre should be Woody Wilbury (I don't have to explain this do I?) and had a T-shirt made up. I still have it!

.

And I'm still listening to the Wilburys and still following David Douglas

Relaunch

Allotment 81 has been off air for the last three weeks, due to being on hols in Crete. So this is a good time to announce that it will henceforth be operated by my alter ego, Woody Wilbury.

Profile has been updated. More on Woody tomorrow. In the meantime a couple of photos from Crete.

And one of Woody

Back to Basics

Hoe, Hoe, Hoe your plot, gently down the hill

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, that is how you till

Strim, strim, strim your plot, like a man inspired

Shout, shout, shout a bit, as your arms get tired

Merrily, merrily, verily, verily, I'm reet pooped t'neet!

Drastic state of plot :

requires drastic action (see above; sing merry ditty).

Much neater now and actually able to harvest some stuff. Runner and French beans - picked for the first time this year on August Bank Holiday. Never, Ever, Ever have I been so late picking beans...... At All. Mind you I could probably have got some a couple of weeks ago if I hadn't been so generally fed up with the poor state of it all this year.

And some taters, which I confidently expect to follow Gnome's experience of allotment taters. But happier news with the shallots, which I thought I'd picked and lost, cos I couldn't find them anywhere. Turns out I hadn't picked 'em at all and the little chickabiddies were waiting patiently all the time; good-oh, pickled onions after all!! There aren't many

but, as they say In Edinburgh, mony a mickle maks a muckle. Especially when pickled. Pickled muckle. Lovely.

And the Lovage has recovered from it's drenching. This lot ended up in Mrs M's damn fine fish stew tonight. If you haven't tried lovage in a fish stew I recommend it.

Some flowerage on the plot too, including a fine bank of what my mother insisted on calling Nasturtians. Sadly, they ain't mine but are on the adjacent plot of the Gardener formerly known as Inconstant. Who is showing signs of reverting to type; I'm sure there is a plant breeding term for that but can't remember it. Instant fame for anyone who can suggest it.

Anyway, the plot (or at least the top third of it - mony a mickle etc) now looks positively svelte.

Sadly the same cannot be said of the Gardener now known as Tubbso.

In my mind I have this notion that I'm skinny. As a child I was a very picky eater, and I didn't reach 10 stone until I was 40. Since then slumpage seems to have occurred and no amount of red wine seems able to shift it. Might these facts be connected? Do I care? Well, a bit, but not that much!!

Less is more

Beginning to think about planning the allotment for next year, and I think I'm going to let half of it have a fallow year. I can cover it in weed-suppressing fabric and concentrate on the other half. Get it dug properly, get lots of manure dug in and weeds dug out and grow less stuff but grow it better.

Less area to look after = better care of the area being looked after. Less ground worked but more intensively.

How does that sound for a plan? Fitting with the best Schumacher principle of small is beautiful?

Rave On?

Interesting start to the day. Woken at 6.30 (yes, that's 6.30 on a Sunday morning) by pounding dance music. Loud enough to be perfectly audible, loud enough to wake me up. No obvious source, except that it's clearly outside and fairly close. What idiot will play music that loud, that time, that day? March about the house grumpily (Mrs M is away so can be more grumpy on my own) but find no source and retire back to bed to seethe for an hour.

Get up, still grumpy at 7.30, music still on, audible inside house with windows closed. V grumpy now. Why should I have to have my windows closed on a Sunday morning cos some inconsiderate tosser wants to play his music that loud.

Eventually set off to find source of music and have it out with them. Much peregrinating later, conclude it clearly isn't local and decide to go for walk on moors to ease grumpiness. Naturally, find music. On moors, easily two miles away as crow flies.

Illegal rave in woods behind Ringinglow village. Music at ear-bleeding volume and bridle track over moors blocked with crusties and dilapidated vans. Have "red mist" moment.

Actually, have many red mist moments. Am invited to take stick out of arse and join rave. Threaten to wrap stick round pineapple and shove up ....

Spit particularly venomous epithet at one languid crustie. Couple of minutes later hear plaintive "did you call me a #*#*? Here, he called me a #*#*!!" suspect it would take him best part of 10 mins to formulate thought that he would want to thump me. Pah.

Find one crustie fast asleep in passenger seat of old panel van. Observe closely to be sure is fast asleep. Slap side of panel van hard as poss with palm of hand. Almighty bang. Wakes up so fast bangs head on windscreen. Laugh? Lay on the ground!

For the record, no objection to crusties per se. Also no objection to loud music, festivals etc. But have vigorous objection to being woken at 6.30 on Sunday morning by inconsiderate tossers.

Going for a kip now, have more or less calmed down.

Brincliffe revisited

First visit to the plot to actually do something, as opposed to standing around being depressed about it, for ages. Altho the doing amounted to cutting some hedge. Privet? God's curse on gardeners. What is the purpose of privet? Anyone who says it forms a cheap, quick-growing and effective boundary had better not leave an address or they'll find all mine on their doorstep. I loathe it. But at least you can "see where you've been".

Met my old mates Jenny & Janet (next plot but two to the right). They've had a "Dirty Plot" notice from the council and are mighty embarrassed about it. Mind you, if I don't get the hedge down soon I'll be getting one myself.

Also met Ivan, my immediate neighbour to the left (over the hedge) who has the great joy of a fabulous potting shed newly built on his plot but the great lament of an infestation of mare's tail on his other plot. Two plots? Blimey. I take my hat off to Ivan cos one is quite enough for me.

And even the Gardener formerly known as Inconstant (who shares my gate and path) is putting me to shame. His sweet peas are doing really well; spuds & onions likewise. I doff my cap.

Finally, of the zillions of courgette plants I put out (in the face of great scepticism from one reader of this blog), precisely two weedy little runts have survived the deluge. The others have "gorn dahn the plughole; not lorst, just gorn before" as the song has it. But, brave soldiers that they are (courgette soldiers? Now there's a thought. Not sure I'd want to dip them in my boiled egg) they're trying hard and may yet produce a courgette each.

Death in the afternoon, overflowing reservoirs and strimming thru the bayou

We had a sparrowhawk this afternoon, and it had a sparrow for lunch off the pergola (or buffet as it is known in "Talk Sparrowhawk"). No pictures; it happened too fast, especially for the sparrow. Could I train it to take out next-door-but-one's doves? Albino Fat Alberts if you ask me.

And the reservoirs are overflowing. Now I know that isn't very significant in the grand scheme of things or to people with flooding problems but we normally look at these in March, after a wet winter, and observe sagely "Ee lad, there'll not be a hosepipe ban this yeear, unless Yorkshire water lose it all again". And this is July with all three reservoirs in the Derwent valley full and overflowing. By 'eck.

And finally, some before and afters of the allotment, which is in a sorry state. Tomatoes, courgettes, cucumbers, beetroot, spinach - all just gone or pathetic. Beans have barely moved in a month. Garlic is in danger of rotting and needs sun to dry it out. Onions ditto. Leeks seem OK. Spuds are OK too.

But basically the thing is ruined for this year. And still it rains; Hey Ho. Think I'm going to have to learn Swamp Gardening. Anyone for mangrove?

The jungle before strimming.

And after (at least it's tidy! ish)

Oh Dear

First visit to the plot since before the Great Rains. Oh dear, oh dear. Lots of stuff has failed - tomatoes are v sorry for themselves, cucumbers likewise. In practice, they've drowned. Just overwhelmed with water, so wet has it been. Other stuff, which was healthy, looks pale and spindly and generally 'behind'. It's been just too cool and wet and all the nutrients have been washed away. Curiously the weeds seem still to be thriving.

Sodden, just sodden

Everywhere is sodden. I've had a day off and had planned to run amuck with my petrol strimmer to get rid of load of excess grassage & weedage. But it was too wet to set foot anywhere so it'll have to wait until things dry up (heroic assumption there!). In the meantime, here are a couple of week-old photos from before the monsoon.

And this monster is on the neighbouring plot. It rustles malevolently and looks at me in a funny way.

I'm with Whittingstall

The only good pigeon is a roast pigeon.

Why this burst of carnivorous spleen, you may ask?

Simple. The Fat Alberts have taken to eating my bean plants, necessitating a Colditz-style construction of chicken wire, bakery crates and a dead oak sapling to fend the b*st*rds off. Picture next time, if it (and the beans) survive. I'm not growing any brassicas this year cos the Fat Alberts just go for them too much; they've never gone for my beans before. Is it just spite?

*Fat Albert is services slang for the Hercules transport plane, to which pigeons show considerable resemblance as they swoop in for the attack on my beans. B*st*rds!

Filling Up

Everything is filling up on the plot. Emptied the big bath of foul sludge and filled with clean water, topped up the other three water butts and installed the world's smallest wildlife pond (aka recycled sink from the old kitchen).

Bean canes up (beans doing well at home), Transplanted 10 cucumber plants (ten!! Yes, ten; we like cucumbers!), a sub-plot of tomatoes and a lettuce plantation. What's the plural of lettuce? Lettuces sounds a bit like sheeps but Lettuce as a plural sounds a bit limp and unthinking. Letti?

And I've been Shirtless in Sheffield for three hours this morning so my back is a fetching shade of just-pink, not red, this evening. Attaboy.

Busy planting

Tomatoes in (23 - mix of MoneyMaker, Tamina & Gardener's Delight). Another 12 in reserve in case i manage to find room for them!

Courgettes in (5) and Lovage in (3). Lovage is a real favourite here. It's really tasty and once established just keeps coming back in vast quantities every year. With three plants I could feed a lot of people who like lovage!

And there's a cracking great 'thing' on next door's plot. Any ideas what it is? It's probably really obvious and I should know having once been a botanist but I haven't a clue. Looks like an Arum lily but seems too big - it's a good 12 inches high.

Suggestions welcome

Spud [earth] upping and Swan upping

The spuds are all up and suitably earthed up. Relic leeks removed and garlic patch weeded. New leeks in (Musselburgh). Seem to be having an Alliaceae theme!

Weather has been very changeable - lots of heavy showers, but at least I remembered to take the stove (no Kelly Kettle yet) so plenty of opportunity for tea breaks.

Meanwhile, back on the Chesterfield Canal, some swans are still nesting but others have got well past that stage.

Free as a Bird

No gardening this weekend - I've been gliding instead!!!

This was the Spring meeting of the East Pennine Association of Churchill Fellows, of which I'm currently Chairman. We usually go walking but fancied something more dyamnic, and one of the committee is a member of York Gliding Club, so off we went to Rufforth Airfield, just outside York.

Despite a weather forecast which promised heavy showers (and delivered them in Sheffield), gliding in York was excellent! Rufforth airfield is an old WW2 airfield, still in reasonable shape and used by the gliding club and various small-scale aviation outfits. Quite a lot of conventional gliders, a couple of powered gliders and an autogyro (which looked great fun).

Got a tow up to 2000 ft, behind a fairly basic plane,

then cast off. We found a thermal which took us up to 2500 ft and were up for about 25 mins. I flew it for a bit; managed not to pull the wings off or anything. Tremendous fun and would love to do it again.

Hoe, Hoe, Hoe - No.2 in an occasional series of favourite tools.

I like all three of these, for different functions, and like to see them shiny, indicating that they've been put to work, seeing off weeds in a cloud of dust. The long Dutch hoe is from that well-known purveyor of gardening tools to the gentry, Wickes, but I've no idea where the others came from! My favourite is the short-handled onion hoe, which is as sharp as a sharp thing and really effective at "slash and slice".

Allotment activities today? In a packed schedule I

• hoed
• weeded and tied in the blackberries
• planted out 12 Parsleys (flat leaved)
• got rained on (but not enough)
• forgot to take the mouse-proof tin for teabags, but it didn't matter because I
• also forgot to take the stove to boil the water anyway. Duh!

Chesterfield Canal Wildlife Hour

In an hour cycling along the towpath this morning I saw:

• 2 swans a-nesting
• 4 herons a-stalking (well, actually the same one 4 times; started to look really grumpy as he kept having to a-stalk a bit further away each time)
• 1 moorhen chick a-having what looked like its first outing in the water. Very small and very low in the water, with much anxious a-fussing from mum, and
• 1 vole, not so much "a-questing through the plashy fen" as a-scuttling hell for leather across the path.

No partridges, no pear trees.

Catching Up!!

Finally cleared the garage of old-kitchen rubbish, with a mere five "car stuffed to the roof" trips.

Finally got the AGM of our Churchill Fellows Association out of the way (William Hague as guest speaker and a really good event. V pleased).

At last I can get on with catching up with greatly neglected seed sowing.

So this day I are mostly been sowing:

Lettuce - Salad Bowl & Red Salad Bowl
Rocket
Basil
Sybil
Manuel
Coriander
Mangetout peas (Oregon Sugar Snap)
Runner beans (Polestar stringless)
Climbing French beans (Veronica Lake)
Courgette (last years remnants)
Cucumber (Burpless Tasty Green) - don't you believe it; well they're green anyway.

And potted on a mere 30 tomato plants - 15 Tamina and 15 Moneymaker. I've got some Gardeners Delight (isn't that called beer?) and San Marzano Plum coming along too but they're a bit scraggy because they got a touch of frost nip.

And finally, planted a Lavatera at the plot and one at the house so we can have synchronised flowering. Aah!

To follow, in due course:

Yer Brassicas, which are miles behind
Yer leafy vegetables (spinach and beetroot; yes, beetroot, I know but it is quite leafy!)
Yer Flowers.

Next weekend with a bit of luck.

Mouse in mi teabags, what mi gonna do?

Something of a conflict of interest in the shed today. Old Mousey, sitting on the workbench waiting for me today, clearly thinks he owns the shed. Given that he's been there more than me just lately he has a point. But making a nest in my box of teabags is going a bit far.

Did all those Chocolate Oranges i left him count for nothing? He'll be turning his nose up at ordinary Sainsbury's tea next and asking for Earl Grey or, heaven forfend, a nice bit of Lapsang Souchong for him and Mrs Mousey. And probably cucumber sandwiches too (he'll have to wait a bit for those; haven't even sown the seeds yet).

Well listen up, Mousey; this is taking liberties. From next week the teabags are in a tin; a tin tin, ideally with a picture of Tintin on it, innit? Let's see you blunt your mousey teeth on that, matey. Teabags indeed.

Digressing into Sheffield dialect for a moment, the only possible conclusion to an exchange like:

It's in the tin

No it isn't

Yes it is

No it isn't

is

'tin't in tin

Any road up, as they say in this northern enclave of blogland, allotment life has been very quiet lately (unless you're a Mouse), due to the massive diversion of having a new kitchen installed. No, not at the allotment. I've done enough for that mouse already. Before and after pictures below - I know you couldn't give a stuff really but we're proud of it.

On the plot, the onion sets have come alive, lord knows how cos there hasn't been a drop of rain since I put them in 3 weeks ago. But alive they are. Spuds in too - row and half of Charlotte and half a row of Nicola. King Edward's take up too much time and space and as for Prince Albert, let's not go there.

So, it being dry and all, I got the hose out and watered the onions, topped up the baths etc and naturally it started to rain. I am rain god. The baths are v useful for soaking the wooden stool. The weather has been so dry that all its joints have dried out and it's fallen apart. A couple of days in the bath and it'll be fine. Know how it feels.

Chinese Wilson

I spent last Wednesday at an RHS Study Day on the life and works of EH "Chinese" Wilson, another of my plant collecting heroes, second only to David Douglas. Look him up on Google for more info but this is the man:

As you would guess Chinese got his nickname because of where he did the bulk of his collecting, and he was prolific. The most spectacular is Davidia involucrata (the handkerchief tree but he is credited with literally thousands of others. Travelled hard in difficult country and had a horrendous accident crossing a scree slope, which almost cost him his leg and his life.

The Study Day was classic curate's egg - good in parts. When it dealt with the man and his travels it was first class. When it dealt with his plants it amounted to trainspotting for rhododendrons, and Ye Gods, the audience were a load of buffers (present company excepted of course!). I'm sorry to admit that I fell asleep in one of the duller parts.

Simply the Best.....

....manure is well-rotted horse manure. Three big bags of it so far, from my free supply in the woods, through the holly bush and over the rickety bridge (no trolls, at least none I can see).

And the allotment is OK, a bit dry in glorious sunshine but my pathetic plum tree is finally flowering

and the garlic continues to roar away.


Planted 150 onion sets (Stuttgart Giant), 75 red onion sets (Red Supreme), 15 Shallots (Golden Something or other).

Two-Sheds

Devotees of early Monty Python will recall Arthur "Two-sheds" Jackson, who in fact did not have two sheds but was only considering a second shed.

Dear Reader, I have gone better - I am now Two Sheds. My rude hut at home now supplements a ruder hut at the allotment and rejoices in the title you see below.