G UNIT

Fix a Pear Tree, Dig a Hole

2012-02-05T05:50:00.000-08:00

Happy 2012 followers and non followers of G Unit alike! There has been a distinct yawning hiatus since our last entry, way back in September 2011. Plenty has taken place between then and now, so I am on catchup / ketchup.

In open defiance of the cold (it has been mild until now) we have been hitting the garden like it's Spring. First port of call was the pear tree which has been listing like Michael Jackson in Smooth Criminal. Cakeatonne and I took it in turns to push it into an upright position whilst we slipped pieces of timber in place, supported by stakes. The surrounding area was a battleground of oozy mud, so we were slipping around and swearing like Jack Tars. Tipping soil from a nearby bag we levelled (somewhat badly) the area around the roots and then splashed on some grass sods. Nothing like the careful planning of Parsley, but she was at work.

Fair pear!

This week we have been putting in the extra work on a heat sink in the solardome. I'm not going to go into the science of this bad boy but it will be amazing once its done. All I know is how to dig a hole, and even then I need supervision! We've made good progress, through the many layers of soil, from guinness black at the top, through to dusty grey and orange clay. Sparks have been flying - literally. Using the grub and mattock (fast becoming a favourite tool) Cake and I were bashing hoards of rocks and pebbles, getting ever deeper. There were some absolute classic quotes:

Oregano: 'C'wor getting out of this hole is proving to be more difficult than I thought. If I'm not careful, I'm gonna split my kipper, and I don't EVEN HAVE ONE!'

Parsley: 'Eww don't say that, can't you say I split my YOM KIPPUR?'

Oregano; 'Yeeeeeah! YOM KIPPUR YOM KIPPUR!'

Parsley: 'Dig all the brown away and slam it in the John Barrowman (wheelbarrow).'

Cakeatonne with a meat thermometer in his hand: 'Leave it out or I'll take the TEMPERATURE OF YOUR BAMO!'

How we laughed.

It was interesting to see how much warmer it was below the surface. Above / top level it was 0.5 C. At the bottom of the 'pit' it was a seasonable 6 C. This bodes well for the sink.

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Editor's note: We are soon going to implement some changes, so keep your eyes peeled!

Once You Lop You Just Can't Stop

2011-09-04T08:44:00.000-07:00

Once again I found myself scrambling up some steep ladders to do some lopping this week. This time it was a conifer. Under the instigation of Parsley I went scrambling up, armed with a natty new bow-saw, a pair of Fiskars loppers and a mini tree saw. Not all at once mind! I'm no octopus.

Overcoming my initial fear of heights I went up for the first cut. It was damn difficult as I was getting scratched to high heaven by all the surrounding twigs and branches. Prickly little fuckers! But once I'd got some of them out the way the cutting proper was swift and merciless. The first cut is the deepest as the saying goes. Took me two journeys to chop down the first part of the main trunk. Barely had time to alert Parsley as a huge branch replete with slapping leaves came hurtling down towards her; not so much as a TIIIM BURTON! Had a second go at it after that, cutting off another 2 feet approx.

The other branches were much easier, although by now I was getting cocky and there were flying branches knocking off stone bird baths and ivy. 'Push it towards the dome!' or 'Not towards the arrch!' screamed Parsley. Well she didn't scream but she could've done.

Once the main body had been cut (we surveyed from upstairs to get the lowdown), I went up again to trim off the rogue bits and dismantle a pigeons nest. Don't worry no chicks this time of year. Then Parsley did the nice cosmetic part, tidying it up so it didn't look like topiary gone hideously wrong. Ten bags of cuttings and a couple of trunks later we sat down to sup Polish lager and a bottle of wine that could rip the varnish off floorboards. Cheers Bargain (B)ooze. Cheers.

Crazy Paving!

2011-09-04T08:19:00.000-07:00

Here I am on a blazer of a Sunday afternoon, incongruously swathed in thermal underwear. It's been a fair while since I blogged and as ever there have been some great antics going on. If by antics you include bomb sized marrows with their very own handles, leveling shrapnel infested soil or eating chicken chowder and talking about prostate checks under the safety of a September solardome then, yes winks there have been antics.

The subject of this blog relates to an antic known as POWER WASHING HEXAGONAL PAVING SLABS. Pulling out and rigging up the Wolf Blaster Max (see link below incase you've forgotten) was a job in its own right. This lovely little piece of equipment can literally tear the skin off your body.

http://parsleyandoregano.blogspot.com/2011/06/over-moon-in-june.html

So caution had to be taken. We're talking the full Craig David here - big earphones, goggs and gloves. Transporting each of the slabs over to the other side of the garden (Parsley never likes things to be easy, even when they're perfect there will be another task, like shifting the house a couple of degrees west so it gets more sunlight etc), I slammed them on a giant tarpaulin bag. On with the Wolf to clean off the impacted dirt and scuz. For the most part it worked a big cakey dream. In my own way I felt like one of those restorers who cleans years of soot etc off the roof of the Sistine Chapel. In another mode I felt very happy to be holding a power tool feeling like I could advertise it on TV. Only people with hair like mine appear as extras in Game of Thrones, not a power tool in sight for this warlock!

Witticisms included: 'Diet Irn Bru break,' (Parsley) 'Diet Panda Coke Break,' (Parsley) and 'It categorically cannot be Panda Coke. Because whenever you say Coke it belongs to Coca Cola. It's Panda Cola!' (Cakeatonne). 'Awfully rich.' (Parsley and Oregano in response to Cakeatonne's snobbery). 'Girls Aloyd' (All three of us!)

We're about half way through cleaning them. They will look awesome in the solardome. Watch this space. Space rhymes with what? PACE. (Peace).

Summer Slam Part II

2011-08-07T09:17:00.000-07:00

Now let's consider the flowery side of things. For the most part my patience and assiduity have paid off. The garden at Rue Albert has been action packed all the way through the last few months. In no particular order: we've had the hollyhocks bloom beautifully - starting off purple crimson, developing into a light burgundy, climbing well above six feet. Matching them for height have been my Italian white sunflowers, which though somewhat scrawny have still flowered beautifully. Special mention goes to my ruby eclipse sunflower which at current has ten flowering heads on the way! The chocolate, red sun and autumn beauty varieties have been slower to emerge and I'm still waiting on them. Same for the teddy bear variety which was largely chomped by slugs, but there's a few of them on the way.

Poppies have gone mental, as ever varied and magical. The opium poppies especially. The seed heads are like Persian towers!

The foxgloves (foxy mixed?!) may have come over from Sam's garden, but I did sow some of my own seeds last year. They have positively swarmed at the bottom of the garden. I love the texture of the leaves, silky, furry and fiendish. Slightly further up the nasturtiums have staked their claim to the fence and the ground, exploding in tangerine flames. A slightly wilted looking chocolate cosmos sits amongst them. Sweet peas trail up the fence. I am really proud of these. At first I was set to give up on them, as I was running out of space. However, throughout Summer we have had a constant supply of sweet smelling cut flowers for the living room and our respective bedrooms. Waking up to a subtle waft of honey will put some UMMMF in your day let me tell you!

Some blue cornflowers make a nice cool addition to all the reds, yellows and oranges, as does the hydra headed white cosmos that Sir Cakeatonne pledged to my cause.

The pond is looking good. The white lily has flowered on two occasions, beautiful for it's brevity. The leaves themselves house egg clusters on their underside - I'm assuming they belong to the newts as we have seen the first babies chillaxing just under the surface. The water soldiers have tripled in size, with the water hyacinths multiplying at a rate of knots. Still no flowers on them though!

The ludicrously munificent Malva zebrinas have come on a big cakey dream. Less so the African daisies - out of 300+ seeds I have had about five of them flower. Still waiting on the Gladioli to appear. Both the arisaema have grown a single leaf, but now appear to be in a kind of stasis. Won't see any flowers this year methinks! The same can't be said for all our lilies, which were universally amazing. Same goes for the Park Princess Dahlia. SMOOSH!

Overall, the garden is very beautiful. I love sitting on the bench, watching the bees, feeling the sun on my pythons...I've worked for this! And there's still much more to be done.

Summer Slam Part I

2011-08-07T08:10:00.000-07:00

It seems strange to be writing about Summer when there's hailstones smashing off the roof, but here goes. It has been a tremendous season of gardening with amazing one liners flying from all directions: 'C'wor look at this slug! It looks like a dog shit / a burger!' 'Dig in and mong out!' 'I'm sweating like a pre-abattoir pig!' We have been so busy at our various schemes, I have quite let the time escape me and sadly neglected the blog. No mo'.

We have moved an oak tree and possibly killed it. We have laid down a path round the back of the solar dome, which involved car loads of brick transportation on the sly, a lot of swearing and complete whingeing on my part...OU THUNDER!..real time writing at its best here people; we have shaved down a huge part of the privet at the back of the garden, which involved any amount of jousting, eye-sweat-in-the-goggles and python testing. We have laughed at Alan in full woodcutter mode smooshing logs with his log splitter. I tried it and completely failed. Haaaaa.

Tragically one of the apple trees at Rue Albert gave up the ghost a few weeks ago, and completely snapped at the base. I had to saw it down then using a panoply of tools hack it into small pieces to be taken away. Two full trugs of apples went into the compost bin after being sliced and diced by my trusty Spear and Jackson spade a.k.a Samson. Let me tell you that compost dalek is kicking off a hell of a stink right now!

Parsley and I made a huge push on our garden thereafter. We trimmed back the dead or decayed branches of the second apple tree - which is much larger and superabundant, although it lists to the right terribly. We completely cut back a part of the elder tree as it was rotting from the base, then had a go at the security hedge (name escapes me), the hawthorn and another branch which came right across from Sam's garden. Using a bow saw and the unmitigated power of combined pythonage we razzed through branches, logs, twigs, getting loads of scratches like they were merit marks. 'Ed, you look tired, you should take a break,' 'I will, I just gotta razz through this last bit here,' etc. Nothing to do with Razy Gogonea, honest. As if that wasn't enough we later razzed down a huge part of the buddleia tree in order to make it more bushy for next year. It was the hardest I'd worked all year, finishing only at around nine p.m with somewhere in the region of fifteen or sixteen gardening bags all lined up. Whew!

Introducing Beeyarna Man

2011-07-17T07:09:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwRMYz1vfcQ

Anybody remember this little gem from the 80s? Well, our version is Beeyarna Man, brother to Sir Cakeatonne, otherwise known as Sam. A month or so ago we hit the allotment, digging up some rock hard soil so we could plant some llleeeeeks. It was a beautiful, hot day with much huffing and puffing. As we hadn't trimmed the walkways in a while, there were lots of obscured and ankle threatening trenches about. Sure enough as Parsley and I were singing our newly created theme tune for Sam: 'The handyman can, the handyman can, especially when his name is Beeyarna Sam,' (to this tune: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9B_6PH4dhU) Sam went flying down a trench and stuck his arms in the air. He looked every bit like he was flying! Not once but twice! Mad props kid!

G UNIT MEETS P UNIT & Club Classics...IN THE DOME

2011-07-03T06:07:00.000-07:00

Man alive, I feel like a bag of meal. All this drinking in the sun has taken it's toll! Which reminds me of a little session Parsley and I had in the dome. But first I am glad to announce P Unit paid us a visit in June. We had tea in the garden with the babies going mental. Joseph and Alice got on very well with each other, thus strengthening relations between the units! Proper little bit of diplomatic smooching going on!

Later on I got a call from Parsley, inviting me over to the Domestead for some wine. We sat and roared with laughter in the blazing hot solardome. There was a carpet of sweat on my back....nice. The wine flowed wonderfully, and then club classics on Heart fm took over BIG TIME. There was loads of whoops, roars and yeaaarghs! They were churning out those cheesy catastrophes like there was no tomorrow. Parsley kept complaining she was knackered then promptly leapt on to the caravan steps in the middle of the dome and threw her hands up in a victory dance. It wasn't long before we were sipping rum from St Lucia...

After verbally jousting with Cakeatonne : "I've cycled five miles, had five pints and will give you a bunch of fives in your greasy face if you eat any more of my fish and chips!", and chasing Smethwick, we set up candles in the dome and carried on dancing. Horrifically drunk by 2/3 we managed to destroy a table, some lamps and our brain cells. Megawatti!

Over the Moon in June!

2011-06-23T05:34:00.001-07:00

Apologies from my good self for no June blogs this month. I know you've all been baying like bloodthirsty hounds to hear what's been happening in the select quarters of my garden and the allotment. Well, bay no more pups.

Where do I start? Well, Parsley passed on her dad's suit to me, and we did a little photo shoot in the solardome. Needless to say, looking like an 80's cop is well wicked! 100% Polyester chaffing! So glam though!

The same day I took to pressure washing Parsley and Cakeatonne's Philippe Starck chairs. These little beauties even account for my terrible tendency to slouch. Additionally they look mega in the solardome. Not content on getting your average pressure washer, Parsley invested in a WOLF BLASTER MAX. Which in Weasel parlance is WULIF BLASTER MAXIWIINKS. Blasting the chairs with the washer created some serious noise, so I had to wear big ear defenders. I looked like Craig David.

Parsley knows how to tame the Wulif.

After a couple of hours of doing that, Cakeatonne and I headed down to the allotment to plant mo'peas http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hkT5Hs61PsU and some sweet corn. As they are wind pollinated we took a bit of time guessing how it was best to align them. Classic bit of allotment dialogue:

Oregano: 'So how do you think I should plant them Cake?'

Cakeatonne: 'Well they've got to be able to pollinate, so in clusters, ideally.'

Oregano: 'Ok, like the five on a dice then?'

Cakeatonne: 'What's that when it's at home?'

Oregano [displaying a rudimentary diagram with his fingers] 'You know, the five dots on a dice!'

Cakeatonne: 'D'oh yeah! But no, not like that.'

True K.O.

May Roundup

2011-05-26T06:21:00.000-07:00

It's been something of a mixed month, but overall massively positive. The drama of Madame Bluetit has played itself out again this year! Two years ago she used the apple tree trunk as a nest and out popped five chicks. This year she revisited the same spot and there were six! After menacing taunts from Tad and bastard face (aka Tad's less popular cousin) she came through. I can hear them daily cheeping to each other in the branches of the buddleia. Hell of a racket the past few weeks though. Not even been able to hang the washing out. Slugs. Slugs. My word how I hate SLUGS. They've chomped through my Italian white sunflowers, a chocolate cosmos, corncockles, maybe even a bit of a water lily. After waiting eight months my Arisaema Costatum bulbils is emerging. About the same time as Mother of P Unit's! This is staying in a pot until it's well established, for I fear the attack of the sluggs. Same goes for the Arisaema Candidissimum. They should look like this when they grow fully:

Woah.

Parsley and Cakatonne's solardome is going from strength to strength. A big set of caravan steps with a rail nicely cuts the dome into 'rooms' or sections, serving as a focal point under the mirror ball. Cakeatonne was going to listen to new age music with stoner wizards, so we slammed on the tunes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UePtoxDhJSw. This had us pumping and krumping so hard the panes of glass were shaking. Can't handle this swag. When we weren't bouncing like Wigan Pier, Parsley was busy using bunsen burner tripods to support a panoply of wicked plants. Yeah science! Not forgetting Parsley's amazing rap group name: FLACCID CREW. A spinoff of Not So Solid Crew, sponsored by Completely OK sauce.

Lastly I have planted up my pond Iris...fingers crossed for some dragonflies in Summer!

The Dalek

2011-05-26T05:39:00.000-07:00

After a three week wait from Even Greener (a 'Straight Company', make of that what you will) my beloved 220 litre compost bin arrived. Despite clear instructions saying, and I quote: 'If no-one is there to receive the compost bin can it please be left at the bottom of the alleyway thank you,' there it sat amidst the rosebush and the mint, like a mute black plastic sentinel...at 12.00 a.m. I'd been out supping Bushmills and export mead with my warlocks at the Spotted Dog and was a little worse for wear. So sozzled was I, I'd forgotten my Get-instantly-sober-and-don't-wake-your-housemate-up-spell. Instead I lifted that bin up like it was a dear friend or bride to be and swept through the house, knockingover chairs, glasses, molecules...anything that got in the way of my triumphant procession to the garden.

It now sits at the bottom left half of the fence, neatly disguised by a young bamboo bush. I'll tell you now it's got one hell of an appetite. Following the sacred compost mantra: Air Water Food Warmth, I have been throwing in kitchen scraps, loo rolls, twigs, tea bags, some young weeds, hedge trimmings, newspaper shreddings...And yes, that hallowed liquid known as piss. Actually it's so good it's become pi$$, on account of how it's going to speed up the Ed special brand of compost and save me money. Just don't tell David, he's mortified at the prospect of anyone unfurling their python and adding a natural, free dash of golden nectar to the composting process.

I shall keep you informed on my progress. At the moment things are looking and smelling good! C'wor what a fucking stink! Ey! I just thought of a perfect strapline! MAKING MATTER, MATTER! ©Oregano 2011

SHIRLEY AQUATICS

2011-05-26T05:05:00.001-07:00

Never trust B&Q. Never rely on Homebase. Go to Shirley Aquatics instead! http://www.shirleyaquatics.co.uk/

Having scoped out some marine soil from B&Q and done a stock check with the Solihull branch, David and I mounted up and headed out into a day as grey as a used teabag. It was raining HARD. Where was the sunshine the boffins, or should I say BUFFOONS in their wonky Olympus, predicted? Scuppered as a politicians promise. So yeah, over to the industrial estate, bleak and yet more grey than the sky. In the thousands of cubic metres known to all as Solihull B&Q there was not one bag of aquatic soil. Not even a crumb. Ergo, Costa del Solihull is not the destination for pond lovers.

On a hope and a prayer we went over to Shirley Aquatics. We weren't even through the door before we saw hundreds of bags of the stuff! My spirits were lifted considerably. Finding out each bag was almost double what they were charging at B&Q didn't put a dent in my mood. Not when you had big tanks of Koi Carp (c'wor they fucking stank). Some of them were going for £75, I think they were worth every nickel. Putting one of those bad boys in our pond would be like putting a conger eel in a pint glass.

We had a good walk around, being watched by an Alsatian the size of a man. They had everything from luminous gravel to fish tanks that looked like they'd been designed by apple. Our port of call was outside, where they had tubs of elodea, water hyacinths, pond lilies, grasses, and tonnes of marginals. I grabbed two bunches of the elodea, and a cheaper version of the aquatic soil....go on say it's all the same you ding dong! David bought a water hyacinth and a lobelia. Bagged and tagged we went home and slapped it all in the pond. The newts love it: for the record I think we have four. Sir Isaac Newton, Oliver Newton John, Newton Faulkner, Thandie Newton. All together they are NEWT KIDS ON THE BLOCK!

The frogs don't seem to mind it either. The russet coloured tank who sometimes emerges has such a saucy look in his amphibian eye he'd make a demon blush!

Sir Cakeatonne & The Pursuit of Wing Clipping Principle

2011-05-26T04:39:00.000-07:00

Having rolled home after a long day at work, full from 400 pints of tea to quell a hangover that could've stop Hannibal's army, I got a chirpy text from Cakeamillion. 'At home? Fancy clipping some chickens wings ?' My response was immediate; I was straight on the blower to him arranging the precision task. This basically boiled down to Jake coaxing the chucks from the pen with meal worms, whilst I stood there like a drunken dork, willy dans le wind. Chick Norris and Henny G weren't a problem but as usual Baden Fowl had other ideas and was screaming like a firework.

For those of you who haven't trimmed a hen's wing before it's quite simple. Get Cakeatonne to hold the chuck under his arm whilst splaying out the feathers of one wing, cut through them approximately 2" in, desperately fight off a temporary bout of nausea as you hear the cartilage click as it's cut. Boom! There you have it, a bird with unbalanced wings that can't escape your garden. To that end, why would anyone want to escape Parsley & Cakeatonne's garden?! It's fucking wicked!

Pauyce

G UNIT MAY NEWSLETTER

2011-05-09T04:43:00.000-07:00

There's been a storm of activity in the rainless month of April leading into the partially inundated month of May. Extra special mention must go to Sir Cakeatonne's YOGHURT DANCE which for reasons of modesty and decorum cannot be revealed in video format. Cakeatonne, whilst well versed in swinging his hips and bashing a yoghurt pot, singly refuses to do repeat performances. A great shame! Razy could take some tips from him... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yjA2ceZPkw.

Nature has gone crazy. The purple sensations have flowered; st

atic firework explosions of purple that give off a nice STINK. I have discovered a peony under the ivy bush which I've now moved to the bottom section of the garden, in it's very own cage. The French marigolds have started to flower only to be colonised by a hundred miniature black and yellow spiders. Wicked! We have our first newt in the pond, called? Yes you guessed it: Sir Isaac Newton. I don't care if it's a female.

The first of the sunflowers which I've been growing since February has flowered. The Italian whites are doing well, and the teddy bears have started to emerge in the chimney next to the creeping geranium. Watch this space for more.

Lilies are growing fast, particularly the ones in the pots, as are the Persian buttercups. The hostas are growing at a beautiful rate. I recently acquired the hadspen variety, which goes a really intense cobalt blue. Looking forward to seeing those little bad boys in all their glory.

I have sown my African daisies, meadow flowers and cosmos, though there are few signs of emergence at present. More positive is the growth of echinacea and coleus in the studio. However there is little to no sign of anything happening with the Himalayan blue poppies. I'm not giving up!

* * * * * *

On the allotment, the recent frost scorched everyone's potatoes, and killed most or all of the beans/peas. After the great, scorching weather we've had for the last few weeks, you'd think the risk of frost would be minimal. But no! Old Jack has still got a foot in the door. Time to smash his toes in! That is if I don't catch the pesky kids who keep coming onto our plot sing-screaming BA BA BLACK SHEEP, smash them into a pie and eat them with a side serving of Cakeatonne's pedigree kedgeree in the dome.

First I have to get the cure for this accursed builders bum!

Mo' Peas...beans and onions

2011-04-24T12:32:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hkT5Hs61PsU

Two visits to the allotment this week = good times. First visit Parsley, Weasel and I transported down runner beans to be dropped off at the pavilion. Spoke quite a bit with John and Sue about PESKY KIDS coming through the fence near the storm drain, running over all the plots. Little buggers! It's an ongoing battle to keep them out.

I planted two varieties of onions in nice straight lines (snigger) as Parsley pointed out to her daughter how often my bum crack was on show. Let's say about 99% of the time. Took a lot longer than expected. This was due to the soil being rock hard, cracked up into uncompromising slabs and boulders. If it wasn't the soil, it was layers of hay strewn horse manure...dried!

Oregano: 'Bloody hell this is hard! It's all rocks and dried tobacco leaves!'
Parsley: 'Haaa!'
Weasel: 'Haaaaaaaaaaah!' (Laughing at my bum falling out all the time, not my quip).

It was however a glorious allotment afternoon, splashed with gold.

Once home, I was fairly vivified by the time spent on the allotment. I cleared our 'wood store' comprised of kindling and treated planks, tipping some compost in for good measure. This was for our new herb and salad bed! Yeah winks!

* * *

Second trip was hardcore rugged and raw. Utterly rushed after spending a hellish half hour at Homebase, nearly arguing with an Oliver Reed lookalike for getting in the way, slapping four 60 litre bags of compost on a wonky donkey trolley, then getting the hell out of there, I legged it over to Parsley and Cakeatonne's. We (Cake and I) took down several lengths of wood, bantering about the size of our snakes / pythons, all the while trapping the skin of our arms, laughing, screaming etc, all the way down to the allotment. We dropped off the wood then met Alan (Parsley's dad in case you're new or have forgotten). He'd brought along some special stakes which would act as support for the beams, which in turn would support the beans! Arriba arriba! For the first time in my life I saw a swarm of bees, I don't mean a couple of winged dudes hanging around in a heat haze, I mean hundreds of buzzing insects about seven feet in the air. We beat a hasty retreat.

Whilst Cakeatonne and Alan erected the posts (I told you DIY was not my thing) I plucked out weeds from the carrot bed, aka a 70s bath raised from the ground on bricks. I didn't fail to take some photos though, as you can see.

Once the frames were up and tied together, I cut lengths of string that would run over both sides, in order that the runners could climb up them. In itself not a hard task, but Dieu, it was hot. The sweat was running down my face like it was going out of fashion. I kept on cowering under the trees, atop a pile of earth and weeds. Cakeatonne came back, armed with tent pegs and two forks. There's a joke and punchline in there somewhere, alas I have not the power to summon one at present. Tied the strings round the pegs (ten in total), making sure they were nice and taut. Cakeatonne forked over the plot behind us so we could put more stuff in. We swapped jobs half way through. Digging and a piggin, forking and a squawking on a blazing hot day is saved for Greek gods not Kings Heathians! Nonetheless we overcame. It's no mean task getting frames up, digging up hoochy coochy and then planting stuff on a day determined to turn your flesh to wax and joyously watch you melt into a puddle. Spring you say? No man, Summer's come early. Paaayce.

Operation Pondwater

2011-04-24T11:50:00.001-07:00

Spurred on by the appearance of Pandora, David and I set about turning round the wonder that was our garden pond. Early Sunday morning last week, I went out and dredged the last of the mud and dried grass from the bottom of the pond. David had ripped out a veritable medusa's mane of grass and clogged up dirt prior to this, and cleaned up the paving tiles, so my job was easy. The frogs hated me, mutely leaping away, or suffering themselves to be handled for a moment, before being released into the hedges.Once David came out we got all the materials together - that is fleece, pond liner (£30!) scissors et al. Now as I'm utterly useless with anything approaching accurate DIY, it was in Mr Millers hands, and he did a stellar job. Whereas I was in my scrubs, he was there in customised houndstooth pants and chelsea boots. What a pair.

Started by lifting off the paving tiles and laying down an initial layer of fleece. Once this was in place, supported by said tiles, David then laid down layer number two. The pond liner was unwrapped, folding out like a pterodactyls wing, fairly swamping us both. It had two sides, green and black. We chose black. Although it was much thicker than the fleece, it was much easier to cut. Once we had it nicely tucked to the contours of the pond bed, the tiles were replaced and some compost added 'twixt the cracks. Previously the grass had kind of glued them all together, so some were very loose. When in doubt call it rustic.

Then the hard part came. Lacking the means to rig up a hose and fill up the pond in double time, we co-ordinated, filling a trug and a kitchen bin full of water and pouring it in the newly lined pond. Fairly took us an hour. At the end we had a celebratory beer, cooking ourselves under the sun, planning what to plant in there...

* * *

A week on and we now have two water lilies submerged at the bottom of the pond and two water soldiers. No wildlife as yet, unless you count a drowned, utterly pale worm and some wood lice. Come back Kermit!

Pandora!

2011-04-24T11:26:00.000-07:00

What would any decent garden be without some ornamentation? Hanging baskets, gnomes, stone Buddhas, flamingos...Why not go one better and get a four foot something, thirteen stone concrete statue of Pandora?! Why not drive to Stourbridge on a late night mission to pick her up and bring her back in the dark, then have to ask Parsley and Cakeatonne for a wheelbarrow so she could be transported to the bottom of the garden? There she GLOWS.

I tell you what, she looks wicked! (And not at all kitsch!)

Ground Farce

2011-04-11T13:45:00.000-07:00

I have been quite the handyman recently. Went over to see my sister, her boyfriend Tony aka the Boneman and my awesome nephew Joseph last Sunday. It was an emotional visit as our dear friend and bed humper extraordinaire Benson had died on Tuesday. He was a hell of a dog, my best four legged friend - bursting with personality, barks and a way of letting you know all was not bad in the world. I miss him.

As a new start I tidied up (some) of the garden. Worked my way from the top, removing weeds from under the palm tree then attacking the cooch grass. Damn stuff never wants to come up easily. The soil was a wonderful brick red colour and well drained, making me jealous. It kept raining so my job wasn't made any easier, but I ploughed on and was quite pleased by the results when it came to sundown. This is but the first phase of my job. I love doing it.

The energy I got from it was phenomenal and for the next two days I worked our garden hard, we're talking epic de-weeding, hover-mowering the grass, demarcating then cutting up turf for a border...and relax. Only I couldn't. Whenever I had a spare second I was doing a bit of weeding or piggin' and a diggin'.

This week has been the same. Just today I added a wicker border to the bottom of the garden. As ever it was an extreme bodge job. Playing close attention to the golden mean, using a spirit level and securing the border with plenty of soil was absolutely a brilliant idea for someone else to take up. I whacked it all in with a rubber mallet and to hell with it! When the grass grows back it will look mintball deluxe.

After that I tidied up the great little patch between the ivy bush and the buddleia, to better reveal the emerging poppies, the geraniums and the forget me nots. Then I planted some lillies in the freshly tilled and utterly weed free soil (snigger). I moved the mystery plants which I got from the Hardy Plant Society, see:http://parsleyandoregano.blogspot.com/2011/04/allotment-afternoons-allot-of-fun.html to the freshly created shady border. In with the hellebore seeds next to the fern at the far end. May have to wait a long long time to see anything happen with these bad boys. Man oh man there's so much happening in this garden!

Allotment Afternoons = Allot of Fun!

2011-04-11T12:52:00.000-07:00

The allotment hasn't been getting much of a mention of late - that is because I have barely been there, absorbed as I am in the workings of the lab and our own garden at Rue Albert. What a shame! Parsley and Cakeatonne have been down there way more than me. Time to pull the old socks up as well as the HOWARD JEANS.

With the weather getting better we have taken to having afternoon tea using a kelly kettle to boil up the water. Proper little unit going now! Of course you can't have tea without a pavilion to drink it on. To that end Cakeatonne and I shifted a load of carpet - yes it's still on the plot - to his steed, Fiesta. Along with brick rubble and stagnant soil we went forth to ye local tippe / dumpe: it depends on your upbringing. It was a glorious day for tipping, what with Com Truise on the saddlebag player. Once we were at the turnpike, a seasoned bloke in a high vis jacket fired a load of questions at Cakeatonne - without looking at him once. Stuff like 'What you got in the boot?' 'Postcode?' Hilarious! Almost as funny as the collection of gnomes they'd collected and put in a kitschy display at the entrance. I wanted to steal a terminator toy with a cannon for an arm...must be the magpie in me.

We unloaded the load and headed back for a well earned brew in the sun.

The following week we shifted more detritus into a wheelbarrow then did many a barrow of woodchip fly from beside the portaloo to our new pavilion. Weed suppression? Check. Attractive finish? Check. Spare fuel for the Kelly Kettle? Check. I frooking love our allotment! Now to spend some more time on it!

Tulips and Daffodils

2011-04-11T05:48:00.000-07:00

It is worth waiting almost seven months or more to see these hunks and darlings roll out for Spring. In the case of the daffs it's the second year they've emerged, looking better than ever, adding flames of white and yellow to an otherwise greener than green world. The slugs have not ceased their assaults though, so this year I cut a load and kept them indoors in a vase. Very molto molto!

Special mention goes to the Thalia, which came out later than expected. These daffs are special with a double head on a single stem, much smaller than the other narcissus, dressed in a pale white that is quite exceptional.

The tulips have been predominantly red, although in the last few days I have seen a few golden yellow ones and a saucy pink make their way upwards. They look and smell mega. As with poppies they have a variety of markings at the base of the petals; if you're ever in my neck of the woods don't be surprised to see me gawping in a kind of stupor, with my bum hanging out (damn these ill fitting jeans and loose belts) wondering how all those colours and shapes started.

Tad's Mad (For Catmint)

2011-04-11T05:37:00.000-07:00

The other day saw the glorious return of Tad, an Albert Road favourite. He's been strolling around sparring with evil face (a cat that looks like Tad but is in fact a colossal idiot and unfriendly), doing his thang. As I've been growing catmint I decided to give it a go. According to the packet, some cats are indifferent to it, whilst others will become very excited. At first Tad looked like he was in the former camp, but something must have twigged in that noble brain of his and he started eating it. The effect was dramatic, he was rolling around, purring like a tiger, his legs twitching, headbutting my legs. Hilarious. And here's the footage!

Dr Frankensted's Laboratory

2011-04-11T05:11:00.000-07:00

My studio has become a full time plant laboratory. Thanks to (winks to) the sun, I now have a collection of eager sunflowers all growing, all knowing. Experiments with pot sizes, coke bottles, ariel liquitab boxes, used soup containers, all of it has come into play and the results have been varied, but always wicked.

Additionally, the malvas are coming along a treat, one particularly has grown like my barnet - that is, exponentially. I'm weary of putting them out on account of the threat of frost and slugs. Last year nearly all my hollyhocks were chomped by those invertebrate gits.

The marigold pinwheels are slow but show promise. Same goes for the Echinacea, which I had given up on but have recently really come to life. Patience!

The sweet peas have gone out and are currently climbing a natty trellis that sits on the shed, facing the sun. After the trough got flooded (April showers are beyond my limited powers), I had to do some emergency drilling, which basically involved me getting covered in sludge water. I felt like bellowing OIL! But I'm sure the neighbours have had enough of my stentorian outbursts and banshee laughs. I can't help being enthusiastic can I?

The Himalayan blue poppies have been planted in a tray full of compost out of the direct sun. If these grow I will be a smug Mancunian git.

I recently bought some Coleus seeds 'Wizard Mix' for the sake of G UNIT we'll call them Warlock Mixx, Charlie Sheen would love that. They too have been planted in compost and are very exciting - think psychedelic nettles and you're on the right path.

David purchased a climbing yellow rose from Poundland, that currently sits on the right hand side of the shed, next to a Trellis given to us by the Grand Gardening Warlock Sam (our neighbour). Slow progress here but ey we got all the time in the world.

In addition to that we have penny blacks, hellebores, lilies, ranunculus...

Whew. It's going to be a busy summer!

Warlick/ Cultivation Nation/ Compost Mentis

2011-03-22T05:29:00.000-07:00

I have been growing a beard for the last two months and have tried to secure my status as a warlock. You know the type: dudes who go around in matrix style long leather jackets, wear chunky heeled boots or trainers and go to Games Workshop. I don't go GW, I used to though. Could use some of their strategies on tackling my precocious garden!

Anyway Warlocks are the flavour of the day. Warlick applies only to Alice/Weasel as everything we say to her involves the substitution or addition of the letter 'I'. Thus: Milk becomes Milik, Wolf becomes Wolif, Cakeatonne becomes Cakeatin (I made that one up just now). She was with us in the garden the other day, on a royal parade in her pram. Every inch the Warlick! Check out that hoodie!

Order of the day was filling the cultivation stations with soil from a massive WICKES bag. The desire to write WINKS bag there was molten. Parsley was rigging and a pigging with a huge length of hosepipe that ran from under the solardome, it was skillfully threaded behind many a tree and bush to lead to the rear of the house. This will supply water for the stations in the hot season.

I filled both stations with a mix of the soil and compost. Now I have seen the compost bins hidden away and have been intrigued to see how well they have worked. Turns out, very well! Cakeatonne had been having a bit of a joust prior to my attack. There was a large space at the bottom, with a huge amount of rotting food paper etc at the top. There was only one thing for it. Parsley suggested I use a large piece of timber to bash it all down, so we could get the good stuff as it fell down. I was given the chance to do my best Gandalf impression as I repeatedly slammed down the timber 'You shall not paaaaasssss!' Parsley was having a proper laugh. So was I until I got blasted in the face by a wave of STINK. 'C'wor this fucking stinks!' That got more laughs. After a bit more pounding and a grounding, Parsley handed me an aerator. Magic things these. I was stabbing the magic rotting matter like a crazed warlock. Down came the compost and out it went in the trug to be put in the cultivation stations. Proper nice little soil and compost blend.

C'wor what a stink!

In other news we were feeding the chickens slugs and moth pupae. These (the pupae) are gruesome looking things. A kind of dark crimson bullet, you can see the wings tucked in. Apparently the tail rotates slowly when you pick it up! I didn't have time to notice as I tossed them to the appreciative chucks.

It was a good few days work and my pythons were humming like pylons by the end. First time I've broken a real sweat this year methinks. Can't be getting lazy!

Himalayan Blue Poppies & Crocosmia Exodus

2011-03-06T10:05:00.000-08:00

Today! Yes today I took the first step in a long journey (possibly perilous) with my Himalayan blue poppies (Meconopsis betonicifolia). The first thing I did, following the detailed instructions I had been given, was to spray a piece of kitchen roll with water then wring it out so it was damp. I then ever so gingerly tousled the seeds out onto it and wrapped the sheet over so they were covered. I then put them inside a freezer bag, labelled it up and sealed it. Next step was to put them on the top shelf of the fridge door next to a big stinking piece of cheese. You never know it might aid germination. Here they will stay for a month! Then I have to decide whether to direct sow outside or try my hand at indoor germination first. Maybe I'll half and half it. As there are only approximately thirty seeds I can't be reckless...

Deeply suspicious looking baggy!

The garden called to me, so I tended to some weeding around the conifer and ivy bush. This is a prime area as the purple sensation is coming through as are the tulips, the fern and the hostas. With luck I shall be planting an arisaema or two there as well. And the blue poppies!

Then I had to make a hard decision. For a while now I've been meaning to move the crocosmia corms which have clustered around the fence on the right hand side of the garden, just past the

ivy bush. Over time they have tripled, possibly quadrupled. Amongst them have arrived some unwanted specimens, including 'nuff brambles. So I legged it upstairs and broke out with the old Spear & Jackson stainless steel spade. It was her maiden voyage. Following in the steps of Cakeatonne who always makes digging look super easy, I went to't. Up came great clods of earth, and sure enough handfuls of corms in various stages of growth. I piled them up in a great pile, tossing out unwanted bluebell bulbs, again these have multiplied at a terrifying rate over the last year. I don't like throwing things away and I know I'll get my ear chawed off by the Unit, but it was make or break. Besides I've left enough to grow on, but I wanted more space for the new agenda...which is still under consideration. Truly it was an exodus today:

http://open.spotify.com/track/60ahKLx3M1qRx7E0mRzbuF

The corms were then buried around the elder and apple trees. They will no doubt pick up the pace after the unexpected shift.

It was a mega day, and warm. Sitting with a brew and some golden syrup cake, pythons contentedly hissing under my cardigan, I felt at the centre of my own universe.

The garden is a sea with waves of energy all coloured green.

Salix caprea 'pendula' & March antics

2011-03-06T09:23:00.000-08:00

Earlier this week I potted up David's willow tree with the soil taken from Parsley's garden. It now sits neatly by the pond, although I've found the honeysuckle reaching out an arm - an unwanted arm, to twine around it. Maybe they want to fondle the fur-soft catkins! Honestly you turn your back for a minute and something fruity starts happening.

Spring really does make the dramas unfold. You get the greedy weeds chomping up land like corrupt property developers whilst uptown (under the conifer) madame Purple Sensation starts to reveal herself, along with her entourage of tulips. All the while the ice cool daffodils, dressed sharper than Frank Smethwick, nod their heads in agreement: yes, yes, this is going to be a good season.

Later I filled up the trough for the sweet peas, which will sit by the back of the shed, as this gets a lot of daylight. I then stuffed a rickety old barrel full of debris (wood etc) and then put a deep layer of soil on top, hopefully this will either house the French marigold pinwheels or the teddy bear sunflowers. An alternative is a chimney, which again I filled with old wood and put a layer of soil down - should be a nice little spot for my malva zebrina.

Sweet!

Flying Lotus, Hidden Mancunian

2011-02-24T09:11:00.000-08:00

Two films I made today, both ridiculous! The music and the sun inspired me. Enjoy!

R.I.P Warren G

2011-02-24T09:06:00.000-08:00

It is with some sadness that I BELATEDLY announce the passing of Warren G. She died of obstruction. If that's too euphemistic for you...well let's just say it was a tad unpleasant. To commemorate her life G Unit dedicates this little gem that we all know and love. Pace (peace).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1plPyJdXKIY.

Frankenstein's Laboratory or the Ballad of Coffee-Go-Mad

2011-02-24T07:43:00.000-08:00

One cup of coffee is all it takes to make me go crazy. I am wrested in this almost dread energy, where I'm doing several things at once, but feeling like I'm doing nothing at all. Does anyone else get that? Maybe it's this brand of coffee (strength 4 Asda speciality). Anyway, let's talk gardening not coffee! Although coffee was the catalyst for much of the story that follows. My studio has become a full time lab now. The sunflowers are comingon a big cakey dream, although I am loath to transplant them to larger pots as they hate being moved. I was surprised by how long the first root was in each seed, it's the same for the sweet peas, a big long pale tendril, that really burrows down, thereafter smaller roots establishing horizontally. As we don't have tonnes of really open sunny spots in the garden I will be doing a combo of potted and direct planting in the ground, with some going down to the allotment where I hope they will become monsters. Thrown into the mix are later blooming sunflowers - Autumn Beauty, Red Sun, Ruby Eclipse and Chocolat. Massively excited about these. The variety in the seeds alone tells me great things are coming, the pointier, almost black ruby eclipse offsets the golden mottled colours of the red sun and the pallid birds egg quality of the autumn beauty.

I've bought a huge trough for the sweetpeas from Poundstretcher, really that place should be called SUPERQUID. The gardening stuff they have is wicked and cheap. Additionally I have purchased a thirty pot propagator, some Dutch Iris bulbs (now planted around the apple tree), and some peat pots (these are good for sunflowers as you pot them direct in the soil and the roots smoosh through like big super hunks - oh dear). I have put the white sunflowers in these as they are much smaller and thinner than their rowdy orange cousins. Let's see what happens.

Joining the crew are the Pinellia Tripartita; there is a frustrating lack of information on the intercrap, so I'm not even sure whether this is the right time to plant them. If they grow, I will become an authority on them!

Echinacea Bravado has it's own propagator, as do the very saucy French Marigold pinwheels. These seeds are so weird. They look like little shards of hay dipped in ink. I love them! Lastly I have potted thirty Malva Zebrina seeds which look like grape nuts. These are a cousin to the hollyhocks, which I'm hoping will grow up nice and tall this year.

P.s I have also grown some cat grass for Tad to chew on. Tried to get him to have a sniff the other day but he was too busy spraying the ivy bushes, properly marking his territory, the fiend. Catmint is growing. Very. Slowly. Also, I sowed some Poblano chile pepper seeds. They are said to turn '...a red so dark as to be nearly black.' My heart fills to bursting.

What the Cluck? / Valentine's Day Duties

2011-02-15T06:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday saw the triumphant return of the double team Parsley and Oregano. It was a cold day - not enough to get in the bones, but a reminder we're not yet in Spring. Mind you there was a spring in my step once I'd been woken up by Parsley singing down the phone to me: Wake up get out of bed Lots to do in the day ahead, Switch on the kettle get some tea, then abrupt as you like she screams Whadda ya doing?! I burst into laughter.

Headed over to the magic garden for around 10.30. Alan made us tea, whilst I gathered the buddleja prunings to be ground in the mega wicked Walsall 5000 grinder (my own name for it).

Last year I wrote a love letter to Buddleja / Buddleia with Stuart Mugridge. You can find the script here: http://www.slideshare.net/charlielevine/mildly-despoiling-script-for-glorious-rubble. The grinder looks like the wood chipper from Fargo...only it's much quieter. Spent ages being a dork not turning it on properly etc. But I got through it, taking the soggy chips and bunging them for the most part in the compost bins behind the dome. Cups of tea were flying about which was grand as I kept on stopping anyway, feeding the chickens seeds and talking to them. They have grown in confidence and sheen! Smethwick has grown in naughtiness.

No Buscemi in sight.

Had lunch and then Parsley and I trimmed back the holly bush / hedge so it would grow fuller. In a moment of pure hilarity Parsley whipped out her pythons and dragged a good length of bramble out of the hedge. What a vision of power! Are you aware you're in possession of dangerous weapons there madam? Cakeatonne was polishing his shield and morning star so he missed it. Had a rum time of getting all the holly in the bags, but bag we did, with a vengeance.

There was talk of hitting the allotment, as some garlic needed planting. However it started to rain so we called it off. I was done, what with bramble chopping, chicken naming (Baden Fowl is the newest), tea supping, baby amusing, JLS jewellery mocking etc.

Came home and planted my echinacea seeds in the propagator. Was happy to see the sunflowers emerging as well as the new sweet peas. Watch this space.

Chicken Lickin'

2011-02-07T07:03:00.000-08:00

Parsley and Cakeatonne have bounced back with a new crew of chickens. Born and raised by 'Action' Jackson Brown, these four little wonders are now members of G unit. In updated and more secure compounds, these young uns are under our watchful eyes. We have a Warren (Warren G), a Black Rock (the Rock), a Magpie (Henny G) and a ranger (this naming was more convoluted: from Texas Ranger -> Chuck Norris - > CHICK NORRIS). These are strictly provisional names, and no doubt Parsley will hurl a molotov cuss at me for getting them wrong.

Hello ladies!

They are very young and very nervous, with exception to Warren G, which has been put in solitary during the day for jumping on the others and pecking them. I don't suppose the high winds are helping things. I even said to Parsley: 'If I was a chicken, right now I'd be fucking shitting myself,' to that end they did just that. This morning Parsley and I moved them from the eglu to the solardome, to acclimatize them. Don't know how successful we were, what with hugely annoying angle grinding going on from next door, doors banging, car alarms, Smethwick roaring at the district attorney down his mobile, and my general noisiness (speech). But they seemed to be quite happy (if tentative) roaming around the soil. All attempts to get them to feed seemed futile until the Magpie clocked on that eating seed and feed was better than pebbles and plastic. The others followed suit...to some extent at least. They are very clustered at present, only dispersing when it comes to being caught! It was a mega job, they kept finding nooks and crannies, squawking and legging it about the dome. 'It's for your own good!' soon turns to 'Come here you feathered dork!' We will have to be very patient with them. But it's like fire watching (for me, any road) I could sit happily and watch them do all kinds of nonsense and not stir. These three have a funny look about them, not like they're going to start talking and reciting Chick Norris one liners, but they have this startled chicken wisdom. I'm sure of it - I see it in their crazy wide eyes!

Get your a$$ to solitary!

Their tendency to huddle in the eglu at all times meant I had to usher them out again so that they could feed. In time these trepid foot soldiers will be at the forefront of the feathered biped crew, an unexpected clan from G unit! Watch this space.

CSI chicken

2011-02-07T06:17:00.000-08:00

It is with a heavy heart that I belatedly announce Salt and Pepa & Spinderella are no more. Some of you may know already, but for those of you who don't know they're up in the great chicken coop in the sky. A fox, probably on crack, managed to get in and he killed them all, taking Pepa with him. Friday 21st January was a cold, morbid day, let me tell you. I said it was, 'like a scene from Taggart'. As usual my brain wasn't very good at dealing with a catastrophe.

However, it wasn't all doom and gloom as we had our very own crime scene investigator, detective Frank Smethwick (Eric), King's Heath only feline forensic officer. He was prowling the scene, sniffing for trace evidence, taking dna swabs and swinging a mean right hook at me when I went to stroke him. You just can't interrupt him when he's doing his profiling. His testosterone is in the ascendant. Seriously though, it was very sad. We hadn't had them very long at all, but a G Unit that works together stays together, so there was not

hing left to do but get on with work.

It was a morning and afternoon of endings and beginnings. An eleven year old cactus had also perished, which seemed to reinforce that point. However with a bit of JLS on the old dog and bone (damn good acoustics in the dome let me tell you), we were soon clearing up and moving on. To the musical majesty of Beat Again, One Shot, The Club is Alive we laboured. Parsley tidied up the feathers and the bodies of our feathered friends. I was digging up the mound of soil which is behind the dome, filling up cement and compost bags - sixteen of them! My pythons

were singing like Tom Jones by the end. Hernia schmernia! To get me in the mood I stole the phone and played some drum and bass. Cakea-giga-tonne was appalled : 'You're as bad as those rats on the back of the 50!' I was, I am still prone to flipping out the blackberry wannabe and splashing on some grime. But only in the garden.

Alan, Parsley's dad, was constructing a wicked chicken run that was going to be placed on the raised bed. It was all industry. After lunch, served on a silver plate by Cakeatonne, I moved the bags to the bottom of the drive. Three at a time - they were some big mothers. It doesn't end there as there's many more to move in the not too distant future. I will get that Greek god physique. And there will be more chickens. Read on.

Daffodils, Tulips, Apple Tree Pruning and Raspberries

2011-02-06T11:05:00.000-08:00

It's great to see the daffodils coming out around the apple trees, and in the front 'garden' if you can call it that. Strange things happen in that little patch of earth, we have a rosebush, a few ferns, a stoic poppy plant or two and every type of garbage blowing in from all directions. Packets of discos, bank statements and cans. Cheers slobs, cheers wind for making the slobs work less than than it is already, cheers slobs, cheers slobs. Mind you it will get better. The tulips especially are looking quite promising, although it is still relatively early stages. Already I love the marble smoothness of the leaves. Watch this space.

In other news I pruned back the apple trees a bit as the upper branches were getting seriously entangled, not to mention swaddled with carbuncles. To all extents and purposes the trees should be dead as they have been chomped by ivy for many years. I mean they have been voraciously chomped, hollowed out, making them list dangerously. But they keep on keeping on, even growing new branches which eventually bud. The cooking apples we get from them make for some fine apple crumble - with vanilla custard it's enough to blow your socks off and make them jig.

Lastly I have planted a raspberry cane in the border at the bottom of the garden. It was bought for me by my brother in all things hilarious Jin Krogan aka Matty Robinson. He got it from Poundland which raised a quasi-sneer from Cakeatonne (expensive ones ordered online for the allotment). It will be fun to compare! If not we can always joust.

Sweet Peas & Sunflowers

2011-02-06T10:12:00.000-08:00

It has been an industrious few weeks, though at the expense of the allotment. Mind you, has anyone been out in the last few days? The wind has a serious grievance against anyone daring to leave the house. Does wonders for the barnet though. Like a semi - colossal puff of brown fog atop my head, my hair loves being screamed at by the wind. I however, do not, taking to look like I'm weeping whilst turning my collar up and staunchly walking onwards. Chaaaarge!

This aside, I have been busy planting seeds, namely sweet peas (royal mixed and giant waved varieties) and some sunflowers - including some helianthus debilis or 'Italian White' seeds. These won't grow as tall as the other type but the combo of creamy white flowers with deep chocolate coloured centres will make me think of cookies and cream, so there. The variation in seeds is awesome. The sweet peas' look like miniature cannon balls, semi purple and tough as sea biscuits, whereas the sunflower seeds look like mint humbugs with tiny golden hairs, and the italian white sunflower seeds look like miniature flint coloured shards. Gerrinvolved! (Get involved).

The very late / super early sunflower is doing well as the photo below shows. My only hope is that the other seeds I have planted today will catch up and we'll have a garden full come summer. Many thanks go to mother for bringing me two types of propagator; I am tempted to make a pun here about a well spoken alligator - for shame I just did; these I filled up with rich compost from a mega bag all the way from Gordon Riggs'. TODMIDDLETON. That one is just for the family Wakefield.

In a less insular vein I was listening to Bo Marley and Disrupt the whole time I was doing this. I seriously think playing German dub to my plants and flowers is going to do wonders. Don't believe me? Go 'ere! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4OnqTMZDes. One day G unit will have its own portable Bo-mobil, firing out raps about JLS, allotment empowerment, dueling forks, cats that look like Frank Zappa, knobbly cucumbers and solardomes. Believe. I do.

Also planted a peony and chocolate cosmos late this afternoon. I'm always stumped by tubers and bulbs, never knowing what way to bloody plant them, spending two hours searching online to little avail, going into Tom Cruise meltdown at said failure. Then I start worrying they'll never grow! Wah!

Cox's Orange Pippin

2011-01-12T05:12:00.000-08:00

I look like one of those dudes with a prize fish!

Imagine my excitement when Parsley held up a small tree in a bag with the biggest cheesiest grin on her face, silently saying something behind the old double glazed. It could've been 'Ed, you're a complete dork and this tree is a symbol of how dorkish you are. Each branch represents a facet of your dorkishness. The bad hair, the dentistry, the complete lack of hygiene as you walk around in crap splattered clothes etc.' But no, she was saying Happy Birthday! Parsley and Cakeatonne had only gone and ordered me a Cox's Orange Pippin Tree, widely regarded as the finest dessert apple, with an unmatched aromatic complexity and depth and flavour which is also excellent for...**CIDER BLEND**.

Parsley, Weasel and I took a visit down to the allotment to plant it. It was another fine, crisp day. Conditions were perfect for tearing up the ground like a mole possessed, in order to plant a beautiful little apple tree. We now have the crabapple tree, the bright golden apple tree (someone please tell me what variety it is) and the COP. Took a while to find the right spot as a hump we had deemed suitable was in fact landfill. Fuming!

Dug a sizeable hole which was part filled with dung, then mixed with soil. On top of that went the shit water (according to Cakealot this is baby bio!). Wonderful stuff this, looks like Guinness, or port, smells like shit: hence shit water. You have to dispense with airs and graces when it comes to the allotment. Then threw some topsoil on. It should bear fruit this year so I'm told, which is mondo exciting.

Crud water = gold

Parsley, ever the task master, persuaded me to dig another hole for the second christmas tree. It was getting colder and I shredded my middle finger on an errant twig. Blame Sir Cakeatonne's fork. All that jousting has imbued it with magical powers and extra volition. So we went home. And yet again, I was dizzy with the fun we'd had. It's only January!

* * *

A very naughty Smethwick was playing up yesterday, looking like he was going to attack the chickens, looking like he was going to attack me, attacking poor Winks, and his own tail. For shame Frank. Get yourself in order lad!

O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum

2011-01-11T06:00:00.001-08:00

A letter to Parsley from the bed of birthday boy Oregano.

Dear Parsley I think your idea to plant a couple of Christmas trees on the allotment is totally wicked. You know I love digging holes and getting rid of cooch grass and brambles, and maybe the odd can of 1664 left by Ian. I admit I could always do with a better belt because whenever I'm digging/pigging/forking/raking my pants keep slipping down. Short of doing a Simon Cowell and having my 1990s jeans ride up to my chin, the slide prone jeans are here to stay. It's also great you call me Howard from Take That but it's part of the ongoing banter that keeps me on my toes and acts as the glue that keeps a good UNIT together. And what a unit we have, what with NINE members: yourself, myself, Cakeatonne, Weasel, Winks, Eric, Salt-n-Pepa and Spinderella. We'll be a match for the So Solid Crew (I hear they now have 500 soldiers in their clan).
But I digress. Planting the tree was good fun. You learn something every day, like which way to face the tree so it gets more sun ('It's not bushy enough on that side you dork, turn it around'). This squat little bugger had my pythons singing an ancient poem of toil; our ancestor units were nodding their heads in agreement. Using some dung to fertilise the roots, mixed in with that good old soil we have may see this little nipper turn into a handsome young thing come December, I have no doubt. You know better than me, I'm just a dork with a nest for hair - you have an amazing daughter who stares at trees (blatant early teaching going on here) from her pram, whilst you tell me what to do. Never stop.

Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinks (that's thanks for those of you not in the know). Oreg-Howar-dork-unit.

Oregano's Top 10 Chicken Tunes

2011-01-11T05:34:00.000-08:00

1) Thunder Chicken by the Mighty Imperials: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7lKJTBmt_D8

2) Chicken Lickin' by Funk Inc. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9ghLVbTRgE

3) Chicken Strut by the Meters http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUMmyjx7uMI

4) Chicken Dance by Laurence Whelk! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6UV3kRV46Zs

5) Funky Chicken by Rufus Thomas http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DwlGNNqGf_g

6) Techno Chicken by Dominoes Pizza http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_2_EJogf2A

7) Chicken Bone Circuit by RJD2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QONWi3q8Y_c

8) Back at the Chicken Shack by Quincy Jones http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLVvHy6hIns

9) Chicken Grease by D'Angelo http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4XI6LXCsH8

10) Dixie Chicken by Little Feat http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FekVR_SC5M

The Dome is Alive With the Sound of Chickens!

2011-01-11T04:59:00.000-08:00

If you want something doing, give it to a busy person. Ok here's the checklist. Sir Cakeatonne and Parsley now have a baby, two cats, a solardome, an allotment and THREE CHICKENS. All you can say in such a situation is 'It's wicked.' That's brought a few chuckles on when we've been talking about the workload. It does seem comical. Are we ahead of the season by putting in all this time or are we merely grabbing on for dear life? Either way I'm saying yes instead of no to the tasks at hand, even if I lack the initiative Cakeatonne!

The excitement surrounding the arrival of the chucks has been palpable the last week or so. Parsley showed me the coop she'd bought (an Eglu classic!), which was housed in the solardome. A day later and the chucks were in there rolling about and pecking like they'd never left home.

Parsley and I had been on the allotment when we got the bugle call off Cakeatonne. We sped back to find his mount unmanned with bags of feed lying about. I thought they'd flown off and escaped. But no. We walked up to the dome and there was a big cardboard box with some eyeholes/handles. I could hear some furtive scratching from inside and some quiet clucking. I knelt down and had a look in. Had to suppress a wild laugh as I saw a huge startled orange eye looking back at me. 'There has to be some kind of bewildered wisdom in that chicken brain of yours,' I thought. We were all very trepid as I peeled off the tape and opened up the top of the box. Salt-n-Pepa and Spinderella! (We were going to call them TLC, after T-Boz, Lefteye and Chilli). There they were in their bed of shredded paper. 'There's no time like the present,' I said, and plunged my hands in to pick up the first chuck. She was a lot bigger than I thought but at the same time a lot lighter. It was like holding a bag of helium that had feathers and a beak. Placed her in the coop and off she went pecking away like nothing had happened. Then Cakeatonne grabbed Spinderella as I grabbed Pepa and we stood there grinning like idiots as Parsley took a photo. In the coop they went as we launched all types of compliments at them, 'Ooh look at those feathers, aren't they lovely,' or 'You may not be JLS but you're fucking wicked,' along with mixed seeds (a treat). Later they had marmite on toast and apples. Made me wanna be a chicken.

Great animals, these. We just stood there in a kind of trance, watching them do their thing. Poor winks was terrified of them, staring at them from the safety of the dome exterior. Eric just cast them smouldering glances from the far windowsill, looking every inch a Mr Rochester or Frank Zappa. Haha, he really was emanating some scorn. Or were you just jealous, Smethwick?

They've already done a good job of tilling the soil, getting rid of weeds and eating seeds from our hands. The sensation of a warm chicken tongue on your palm is hilarious. And what good chicken would not lay an egg?! I had my first yesterday and it tasted awesome.

Happy G unit thymes (sic).

Who Flung Dung Deux

2011-01-11T04:08:00.000-08:00

Cakeatonne and I have been chipping away at the old dung pile and now it is no more. £80 worth of the old umber magic carted down to the plot. My pythons were singing the whole time. Actually Parsley called them worms. They are a tad out of practice. One thing I can't seem to shake is achy hips. Now I'm no James Brown, in many senses but these hip catastrophes are doing my shed in. Is it the cold? Is it my body protesting against real work, the real work of being outside for a change? Or am I getting old? Whatever I'm writing this blog in the fullness of Midwinter Spring, and I feel just fine.

The dung looks ace on the plot, all nice and ordered. Still we have to rake it over so it's evenly spread over the cardboard, I had a wee go at that the other day and the pythons moaned after five minutes. Really I am dreadfully out of practice, and if I'm going to attain the Greek God physique I had some two years ago. What hasn't changed from two years ago is Parsley as overlord. She was making me rake up as much of that muck as was humanly possible:

Parsley: 'Go and grab a rake there's still loads of manure on the path and in those brambles.'

Oregano: 'My pythons are screaming and I swear there's nothing left!'

Parsley: 'Are you kidding? There's easily another two barrows left in there.'

Oregano: [Sarcastic] 'Oh yeah! Look there's £2.50 0n the path and another £7 in the brambles haaaaaa.'

Parsley: 'Shut up Howard.'*

* This came from a conversation we had about Howard from Take That. For those of you new to the blog, or with a bad memory Parsley thinks I look like him. See http://parsleyandoregano.blogspot.com/2009/08/fat-pigeons-hedgehogs-and-howard-from.html. He's also playing at Gatecrasher later this month. However if he pulls that quasi-smile (lower lip tucked in so he looks like he has no bottom teeth: take a closer look) then I'm not going. VIP entrance or no!

Pace.

Who Flung Dung?

2010-12-30T03:52:00.000-08:00

'I've got a steaming pile of shit with your name on it,' how often do you hear this sentence and actually feel happy about it? Well, I was jubilant when Sir Cakealot aka Sir Cakeatonne (shortly to be discussed), tweeted me an image of what looked like a pile of brown lava, with a gardening fork sticking out of it. It was time to shift £80 of rotten horse manure onto our plot. Trouble was (is) the van couldn't get down to the bottom, so we had to wheelbarrow the brown gold down there ourselves. This was pre-Christmas as I was recovering from man flu. I tell you hitting a 'vein' of particularly smelly dung with a bad chest is hilarious. When I say hilarious I mean dreadful.

The cold, courtesy of our very own pleistocene epoch had frozen most of the manure, so it came away in great clods and boulders. We were really jousting a dragon; Sir Cakealot definitely had more energy than me, filling up barrows like ale in a tankard. Hence Sir Cakeatonne - he was powerloading pounds at a single bound. I was more systematic in my approach, reducing the back bit methodically. Damn my chest was sore.

Comic relief came in the form of Reg who was traipsing through the snow with a Sainsburys bag and a smile that outshone the Winter sun. Turned out he was curious who was on the plot, and was paying a flying visit. He started laughing almost straight away, real loud like. That set us off. He admired the dung and then headed off, with Cakealot shouting at the back of his head. This wasn't at all malicious, Reg is a tad deaf and Cakealot / Cakeatonne was his chivalrous self.

Mmm steamy!

The second round of dung shifting came yesterday. It was a milder day than I expected, with plenty of mist to make things atmospheric. I have seen the allotment in many ways over the year, and this was one of the most special. Cakealot and I had a good go at the pile and reduced it by approximately another quarter. Laughs were had with capsizing barrows (full to the brim), heartbreaking when that happens.

Amidst steaming plots, muddy walkways growing ever muddier and thinner, and puddles, we shifted a good six or seven barrows each. We also had time to lift up an area of carpet and black plastic we'd laid down a good long time ago. It had done the job well, with only a few hoochy coochy strands here and there. That too will be covered with the dung. There's still so much to shift though!

* * *

A great year for gardening, a lousy year for everything else, so say Brother Oregano. I hope you've enjoyed the blog almost as much as I've had writing it. Keep up the support and I'll keep up the amateur gardening. 2011 will be a feast of activity, so watch this space. Happy Millennium!

Weasel's First Allotment Visit / One Late Sunflower

2010-11-20T03:53:00.000-08:00

Earlier this week Parsley paid 24 Rue Albert a visit with Weasel. I had my hands full with my favourite new UNIT. She was crying a wee bit so I spoke gentle words of encouragement like: 'Stop crying Weasel, you won't have time to be cribbin' when you're diggin' and a piggin,' and such like. Weasel is such a wicked little unit.

Went over to Parsley and Cakealot's to feed her some milk and for us to have a brew whilst listening to hilarious lounge music. Cakealot has a great vinyl collection. Checked out Cakealot's seed collection (wow wow and wow again, like he said - buying seeds is a tremendously optimistic thing to do). He kindly gave me a catalogue from Dobies - a veritable Aladdin's cave of seeds, bulbs and garden storage wonderment. The words Bumper Miniplant Flower Collections has an almost ludicrous charm to it.

When we'd tooled up - that is put Weasel in her pram and wrapped her up, Parsley and I went to have a look at the allotment. The whole way down there I was making jokes about Weasel being in a wagon in the Wild West. No-one laughed.

It was a lovely afternoon, subtle, crisp and golden. Rubbed off on her as she was very sedate / asleep. We had a small perusal of our patch of land and then headed home where we were assailed by Kate's neighbours, one of whom is old but COMPOST MENTIS; this time Parsley and I had a good chuckle.

* * *

Earlier in Spring, I planted a sunflower seed in a load of compost as a bit of an experiment. Clean forgot all about it, but was pleasantly surprised to see it had grown, albeit hugely late - emerging early November. So I've moved it indoors and will track it's progress here. As the cold draws in properly, these blogs will be a little more infrequent, but who knows, I will probably find more things to enthuse about. The sunflowers name is Mal, by the way. This is on account of a chrome dome I saw last night in the pub who looked like John Malkovich. I wanted to say he did but he looked like he might pop a cap in my cold frame.

Peace.

Pumpkin Carving and Mo' Weasel Blend

2010-11-07T05:22:00.000-08:00

Paid my first visit to the newest member of G unit last week. Alice aka Weasel!

As you can see she was rocking the Halloween look big time. From prior experience with my three nephews, I have been notoriously hands off - afraid of hurting them with my clumsy mitts. This time I was only too glad to hold the baby - I mean come Spring, she'll be digging and pigging with the best of us!

Eric aka Smethwick (see http://parsleyandoregano.blogspot.com/2010/04/king-smethwick-funky-trunk-transplant.html) was ludicrously friendly, and curled up whilst we had tea. Cakealot provided pumpkin pie, which blew my tits off.

Speaking of pumpkins, Cakealot and I carved one, or rather I did the design and he did the carving. It was loosely based on my Groucho Marx costume of the preceding night.

from this

to this!

It was a superb afternoon. Although I did feel bad for not helping Cakealot on the allotment afterwards. We still have tonnes of manure to order and get spread over all the weeds before the frosts come on....G unit for Lyf tho' and ey! Mad skills to Weasel.

Weasel / Late Allotment Antics / Tulips

2010-10-22T04:31:00.000-07:00

Breaking news! For those of you that don't know already Parsley and Cakealot have recently had a baby, Alice, whom cakealot in his wisdom has nicknamed weasel. That means there are now six members of the G Unit clan:

****Parsley, Oregano, Sir Cakealot, Weasel, Winks &

Smethwick****

Hurrah! The love grows even as the season grows cold!

Maybe the cold has been keeping me away from the allotment, maybe it's been the wandering to Rutland to hook up with an old friend Dan, a brilliant sculptor and wit, or maybe the barbarous few weeks I've had at work....pressure makes diamonds but I'm not seeing any cubic zirconia!

Either way I took a couple of trips down there last week to pull up some nettles to slap in our bath to make fertilizer, and to quell the brambles, remember how much I love them?!

http://parsleyandoregano.blogspot.com/2009/10/operation-blackberry-or-destruction-of.html

Didn't get too far as my pythons were getting ripped and I had a dinner date with a living Goddess. All the same, a second visit saw me clear most of the waterway that leads to the storm drain. Don't want that getting clogged up!

I was naughty and dead headed a poppy I shouldn't have. When I got home and was rattling it for all I was worth, an earwig crawled out. I screamed! Gotta hate those earwig catastrophes! Needed Cakealot to come in and joust it with a rake.

Lastly I plucked some golden apples and runner beans which I'll give to the parent Units...I'm so egalitarian and still so much of a carnivore.

Lastly, I have planted all my tulip bulbs around various parts of our garden, along the thin border just on the right of the front door and under the privet hedge at the back. I'm hoping the daffs will be back from last year. Needless to say you will be seeing a well documented account on here! PAAAAAAAACE! And a very big welcome to Weasel. You got crazy wonderful parents kid!

Epic De-seeding, Purple Sensations & Lavender

2010-09-19T04:27:00.000-07:00

After hoarding poppy heads and ceremoniously decapitating my first sunflower, I was set to deseed my little collection. It took me a good few hours as well! First I was shaking the heads to remove the seeds into a container, then I took to crushing them en masse. There were thousands of seeds in a thousand shades of umber and topaz. Thereafter I sieved them all to get rid of the larger bits of detritus.

The sunflower was also a mini epic. I started off by gently plucking out the individual seeds which looked like mint humbugs. They had a wonderful kind of sheen to them, with miniscule hairs. As this was taking so long I just applied some torque and they were popping out all over the place. The flower still smelt great, even at this late stage.

I then funneled the poppy seeds into individual seed packets. Same for the sunflower seeds. These will go out to family and friends.

* * *

I was all set to plant my tulip bulbs but I found out it was a tad early. Menacing terms such as premature flowering etc. put me right off. Instead I opted to plant my purple sensations! These beauties belong to the onion family and will hopefully make a welcome addition to our garden when (if!) they emerge next year. Back on the waiting game. As with the daffodil planting of last year, it was a Friday and it was warm. Good omen!

http://parsleyandoregano.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-wandered-lonely-as-cloud.html

Ludicrously enthusiastic, I strategically planted the bulbs round the garden, where we have the most sun, then stuck stakes in the ground marked allium, in case I forgot where they were. As everything dies right back in winter sometimes there's no way of knowing if things are ever coming back or growing for the first time.

I call this one Hank.

Buoyed on by the fun and energy of planting the bulbs, I decided to move the lavender from the compost tray / tin catastrophe, whatever you want to call it. It was planted under the conifer where the soil is dry and somewhat dusty. I have it on good advice that it will grow well here. Watch this space!

Wasp Central / Welcome to G Unit

2010-09-18T14:55:00.000-07:00

A couple of films I made the other day. A glorious pro active day with lots of sunshine. Wasp Central relates to an earlier film I made by the same name. This was supposed to be Bee Central, but I got caught up in the moment. Mesmeric!

As for Welcome to G Unit, did I jump or was I pushed?! Hysear Don Walker knows....perfect Summer music. Pace.

P Unit

2010-09-14T11:13:00.000-07:00

P Unit, aka Parent Unit! This short entry honours my parents garden. I paid a visit to Manchesthair (Manchester) for a wedding this weekend gone. It was raining with a vengeance, but there were some lulls which allowed me to get a quick peek at things. I love the hollyhocks especially and hope ours are as lustrous when they come out next year.

P unit for lyf, nice one Reg / Scholteim and Sue / Oaf. X

Kings Heath Flower and Veg Show!

2010-09-12T11:38:00.000-07:00

This year was very different from 2009's show. It was muggy and wet, Sir Cakealot had been jousting and the pair of tickets he'd bought for Parsley and himself had fallen from his gauntlet, and were nowhere to be found. I had a tasty thunderstorm brewing in my frontal lobes. In short, conditions weren't favourable.

I ventured out solo a little after one o'clock. Had a relatively short skirmish around the stalls, not forgetting to photograph some humongous pumpkins and some giant LLllllllllleeeks (http://parsleyandoregano.blogspot.com/2009/09/lll

lleeeeeeks.html). What a treat! It still amazed me to see these almost sculpted veg! What delicate means people must have gone to.

After a jaunt round most of the stalls, I went and picked up thirty tulip bulbs, five purple sensations and a clematis (Polish Spirit!). Came home and planted the clematis just by our back door. I'm hoping it will climb up the chain and the previous climber (no idea what it is, all we have is a skeletal remain).

Rounded up Parsley and Cakealot later. Mimicking last years tactics we moved in late to get the best bargains. I'd had my eye on some gorgeous hostas earlier on so we moved in on them, dividing the old 4 for £10 with my fellow G uniters. I had a good laugh at Parsley bartering for some trugs. The father and son team were having none of it. I love the word trug it just sounds so meaty and functional!

Trug negotiations!

We popped the hostas in the trugs and scouted around a bit more. I revisited The Hardy Plant Society for a last minute deal. I love these guys! The dude who was selling me the plants (nine for £2 - count em!) had no idea what most of them were, which was genuinely charming. I'd bought hostas and ferns from them last year - tiny little things they were as well. But they've grown twofold. I love the modesty and the surprise element of growing stuff that looks weedy at purchase, but one Spring later is rolling out proud like a horticultural Muhammad Ali!

What a catch!

We headed back about an hour later as it looked like it was going to pour down. We drank tea, and I sat in the same spot where it all began (my gardening existence at least!), with a surly Eric (aka Smethwick, aka Smethchick) prowling about. A nice sense of completeness.

* * *

I rushed back and planted all my treasures once I got back to our garden. Keep your peepers peeled for updates!

Hoochie Coochie Man Part II / Boardin' up

2010-09-12T11:23:00.000-07:00

About two weeks ago Sir Cakealot and I were laying down cardboard over the particularly weedy parts of our plot. Trouble is that both grass and weeds have infiltrated the paths and many of the undug areas. This increases the chance of smashing our ankles off, as there are small but significant trenches around each bit of the plot. I've done it many a time, just started walking then UMPH! Right down the hole. So far, no casualties. It's not just a cosmetic thing, though a weed free patch of ground is always good to work on. Refer back to May's entry when I met Reg. He has *Military Precision* on his little patch of earth and it looks amazing.

Anyway the thinking was lay the cardboard down and cover it with woodchip as a mulch to keep all that damn hoochie cooch grass down and whatever else has been germinating all this time. Someone had kindly left a huge pile of woodchippings over by the portaloo, but it's almost the furthest point away from our plot, so I had to make a few journeys with our decrepit wheelbarrow. I was sweating cobs and spiders.

We have more cardboard to put down; hopefully this will exert a degree of control over our wonderfully wild allotment space.

G UNIT!

Dead Heading

2010-09-07T11:09:00.000-07:00

Awh! We're slowly making our way towards Winter, but there's still plenty of exciting things happening in the garden. Our mutant sunflower (it has eight flowering heads) has outgrown and outclassed all the others, standing tall in spite of the regular downpours, still getting the bees in. I'm just waiting till I can collect all the seeds and disperse them to everyone. Sunflowers are so easy to grow and so much fun.

The nasturtium have gone ballistic, really reaching out this year, coiling their way around poppy stems, the sunflowers and beyond. They were my favourite flower last year. They still live up to that reputation, in fine colours of subtle fire.

Mostly I have been dead heading the poppies. Morbleu, there are thousands and thousands of seeds. Again, the colours! The oxidised copper of the opium poppy heads...it's something else.

Anyone want some poppies for their garden next year? Don't hesitate to get in touch. Touch it!

Sunflowers & Tatty Time

2010-08-03T04:40:00.000-07:00

I've been negligent again. Caught a bug off my nephew and have suffered accordingly for the last week or so. Prior to that there was muchas busyness at work, and a million other time sapping duties to keep me away from the blog.

A lot has happened over the last month - primarily the garden at Rue Albert has blossomed somewhat with all the corncockles having come out, and the all too brief inflorescence of poppies in a brilliant range of colours and appearance. We're talking crimson with black blotches, crimson with white blotches, some sherbet pink, others white and marbled. The variety was exceptional. Winks for that Parsley!

Then there are of course, the wonderful sunflowers. I was worried about the tallest one as something had a real go at the stem early on and it was 1/4 nibbled. Needless to say it pulled through and stands proud. The others have come out a bit, but there are still three more to flower. The biggest one is peering over into our neighbour Sam's garden. Damn heliotropism!

The bees are loving the sunflowers. This is always a good thing to see. They will go ballistic for our ivy bush when it buds up in a month or so. The smell though...I can't describe it here!

* * *

Allotment wise, I confess I haven't been down anywhere near as much as I would like. Excuses of rain aside, there is a lot to be done still. Cakealot and I went down last week to reap our harvest of potatoes. 'I'll fax you the diagram I made with all the varieties of potato we planted,' promised Cakealot anachronistically. Where's my fax Sir Cakealot! I want to know whether I'm mashing spuds that should be roasted or roasting spuds that should be mashed! Either way we had a good go at it and there was a bumper yield of mega tatties, and no, I didn't steal all the undamaged ones. Added to that were some tasty onions. I am in agreement with Michael Wale - allotment grown veg gives you a whole new perception of what veg should really taste like. And it's satisfying to bring back a bag load of it, all earth ridden and fresh. Mmmmm!

Pace.

June Drop / Cultivation Stations / Bumper Crop

2010-07-04T09:12:00.000-07:00

Dear readers, I am so far behind it's not even funny. The past few weeks have been crammed with esoteric activities and small miracles. The June Drop for one. At first I thought Parsley was making fun of my gardening knowledge - (still small but I will

stand tall), the sad little apples that didn't make the cut are festering amongst the corncockles...

Then! The Cultivation Stations from Potty Innovations! Don't believe me? Head here:

http://www.pottyinnovations.co.uk/

These wicked little beauties were an ideal addition to the SOLARDOME. Parsley and I spent a few hours creating octagons (Doc Ocs in our parlance) and pentagons, working out what would fit best in the dome. Winks was as tired as us when we'd finished.

Awh Winks!

* * *

Day after day of blazing sun, and the odd smattering of rain ; with clouds shaped like whales, swimming overhead in slow motion. I have seen the redoubled growth of my sunflowers (now chest high), roses, my favourite nasturtiums, innumerable poppies etc. On the allotment the sunflowers have gone crazy. One has a stem the thickness of deep sea cable, twisted as an elder's staff, leaves like shields. I am jealous.

Most of my time has been put into the allotment. If there is a hell (actually there is - Sainsbury's

on the high street), there must also be a heaven, and I'm sure our allotment is one of its pillars. The walk into town or down the high street is noise ridden, grimy and dissolute. On the other hand, a walk to the allotment late afternoon is almost comically pastoral. Imagine my rolling gait, £4 bright green fork from Wilkos in hand, Take That jeans and my Stan Smith Adidas. Ever one to mix and match, I will never be out of fashion because I've never been in it.

Watering was my main duty. Courgettes, squash, carrots, beans, coriander...One day I went down at around 5 and didn't finish til after 8. The aforementioned fork couldn't break the rock hard, blood warm soil. I was panicking a bit as I had to plant courgettes before they expired. In fact later that night I couldn't sleep worrying that I hadn't planted them properly, that they would overlap or be subsumed by Mr Hoochy Coochy. I neglect to mention that we have progressively worked towards the bottom of the plot. There are still big reams of mouldy carpet to be got rid of. Moving those mounds of fabric in the pelting heat with Sir Cakealot made us both dizzy. I lay down for a bit, Cakealot roared with laughter but promptly stopped - thinking I had fainted. Thanks mate, I'm going with the first reaction.

It's all looking good and a lot of our plot is under control. An achievement we should be proud of. Plus we have started to harvest. First garlic was dug up, along with some tatties and plucked courgettes - one resembling a grenade. It's a great great feeling to see the fruits of your labour, one that I barely could've conceived a year or so ago.

Lastly, check out our glacial level cool customised badges.

G Unit for lyf.

Babe!

2010-06-25T06:35:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_KnLcY5Ix68

Enough said.

Apples!

2010-06-17T05:02:00.001-07:00

First apples are growing at Rue Albert! Watch this space...

Pagan Shit Thing / Weedin' & a Seedin'

2010-06-13T09:34:00.000-07:00

June has been a frenetic month. Principally I have been weeding as one possessed both in our garden and on the allotment, when the rain allows. The rewards? Seeing a poppy the colour of russet and the softness of taffeta, the steady growth of the hostas, the hollyhocks (now the slugs have left them alone) and the sunflowers. Although I had moved three of them and learned very quickly that I shouldn't have. They almost instantly shriveled. To say I was gutted was an understatement, but luckily they have rallied and lost only a leaf or two. The poppies are coming along as are the corncockles. My favourite nasturtiums have made a small but spritely return too.

Thrown into the mix are aquilegia which I have sown in the seed bed, foxglove FOXY MIXED (according to the seed packet) which I have sown near the southernmost apple tree, and in a bodged propagator (tin and cling film catastrophe) some lavender (Hidcote Strain for those in the know). This will eventually be transplanted under the conifer.

Paid a brief visit to the dome at Parsley and Cakealot's and it's looking damn fine, as you can see for yourself. The acoustics in there are amazing - as is the warmth. Though this isn't so great when the cats get in and leave odorous presents. HAHA! There are still a few panes remaining to be put in and then the dome will be fully complete. An amazing achievement for G Unit.

Another recent addition to the allotment was the eponymous Pagan Shit Thing - basically a frame for our runner beans. It gained the glorious title for being an uber bodge job - but totally economical as Parsley and Cakealot used sticks from our plot to support the frame. A touch of ferocious digging (mostly on the part of Cakealot as I was cream crackered from weeding beforehand), sealed the deal. We planted the beans on both sides of the precarious lean - to and marvelled at a bodge well done.

Inclement weather and a seven day shift kept me away from the allotment. When I went to weed last Friday I was greeted by a meadow. Luckily Cakealot had pointed out where I should weed and what not to pull out in haste - namely beet root, red and white onions. Moma mia! Did I get my hands stung by nettles! They're still tingling from a good session Cakealot and I had a few hours back. The plot looks a lot tidier now, we're about two thirds through weeding. The potatoes are almost ready to come out as some have flowered, we're one of two or three plot holders to have this honour!

More weeding tomorrow if the weather holds up. Watch this space!

Albert’s Spring Garden

2010-05-23T12:48:00.000-07:00

What an amazing few weeks, though not without their worries. Let me expand.

So much is happening in the garden at the moment I can barely keep up. We have bluebells, whitebells, poppies, ferns, sunflowers, hosta, corncockles, hollyhocks, geraniums, forget me nots, daisies, lady’s mantle and roses. Some of course are still emerging, some are in full bloom.

My netted seed bed has worked a charm, but the slugs have succeeded where evil face – aka Tad Wilder’s much less charming feline cousin, has failed. They have been eating the sunflowers and some of the corncockles, and they’ve demolished two or three of the hollyhocks. This has lead me to the unfortunate (depending on how you see it) use of slug pellets. One day after putting them down I was astonished to see how many slugs had been emerging for their diurnal feast. It wasn’t pretty.

What is pretty is the salvaged hosta, which I planted last year under the elder tree. It died back very quickly after I’d bought it so I’d given it up for dead. However after some serious weeding I discovered it, a little slug eaten, but the broad dark green leaves were otherwise fine. It has been relocated along with the mystery fern just under the conifer. Safe as houses. For now.

The gernaniums, which suffered a trampling from Friendly Fred, the chocolate coloured Labrador, have bloomed. Last year the daisy had one flower. This year there

are over thirty!

In the seed bed, the sunflowers are growing steadily. Another mystery plant/weed which I mistakenly took for a sunflower, is growing slowly. I will post a picture soon and see if anyone knows what it is.

Poppies too are sprouting up in abundance, and the corncockles, which, idiot that I am, I planted in rows, are doing just fine.

The viburnum cutting is growing nicely, the wild strawberry plants have flowered (I hope we get some this year) and sycamore junior has emerged again. In short, this garden is amazing and it is progressing towards plenary awesomeness.

Peace.

Hoochie Coochie Man / Reg / Project Solardome Part One Million

2010-05-23T10:50:00.000-07:00

Sat here in this tropical heat, it is hard to imagine a better time to be writing my blog. Everything is properly coming into life, just to my right is a wonderfully hairy poppy, next to it a mysterious type of fern and a rediscovered hosta. More on this in a separate blog. What I want to tell you about, avid followers, is the curse of the hoochie coochie man.

I am of course talking about cooch grass. There is so much of the stuff it reminds me of the blackberry bushes from last year – the abundance, the unfettered abundance of the stuff is maddening. It’s hard work pulling it out too. Sir Cakealot and I were jousting the ground with forks for all we were worth, and then pulling it out in handfuls. Trouble is it kept snapping, which meant more hoochy coochy for the future. To that end the bagged stump chippings came into play. We poured out approximately half of the chippings over the forked and (partially) cleared areas. We then raked it in. Sir Cakealot went ballistic as the photo testifies! We then recovered the area with carpet, to leave for next year, where hopefully the cooch will all have broken down.

In the process I met a sweet old man called Reg. He was partially deaf so we were both talking very loudly. I loved the way he said ‘You’ve got to watch out for them weed seeeeeeeds,’ he grinned as he said it, flashing a majestic gold crown. ‘Do they call you Teddy?’ he asked me after I told him my name. No Reg, not enough people call me Teddy, Howard, yes, Oregano, yes, but not Teddy. Maybe that’s for my later years.

Weeds are running rife amidst the potatoes, the onions, basically all over. It will be the work of many patient years to fully regain control of the land. It always seems insurmountable. But we always overcome. G unit!

Also in the mix is Project Solardome, now in stage one million according to Parsley. Over four days her and a friend constructed the extremely intricate nexus of beams for the glass. It becomes ever clearer that our team is divided thus: Parsley is the mastermind, Cakealot is the nurturer and I’m the work mule.

The dome looks absolutely amazing, and it’s not even finished yet. I am so excited for the final result.

Sunshine. Suits me fine!

The Lucky Lackey

2010-05-10T04:27:00.001-07:00

'Everything you ever do in your life involves bending. I just never noticed it before did you?' - Parsley

A classic statement from Parsley, who on account of her pregnancy, can't bend as much or lift heavy objects without getting jousted by an irate Sir Cakealot (the father). It has been a few days of heavy lifting and labour - hence the title of this particular blog entry. As Parsley and Cakealot had called me their lackey - I added the lucky part. Because, I do still feel really lucky to be doing this, and to be a part of shaping their amazing garden; to be a part of shaping the allotment and to visit eccentrically peopled gardening shows, amongst other things.

As Parsley's parents were preparing the foundation for the solar dome (see pics attached), it left me to move several bags of wood chippings - all that remained from the stump. There was somewhere in the region of fifteen / seventeen bags - most of them power load (heavy). I took them all over to the allotment in the course of two days and about five visits, one with Cakealot. The chippings will be used to suppress weed growth once we've removed the cooch grass or as much as possible.

We had covered most of the plot with carpet and plastic, with some areas fully treated with glyphosate - others not. The result was some areas of clear soil, others teeming with weeds. It's ongoing, and as Cakealot said from his throne in the garden yesterday - 'I can't relax there, there's still too much work to be done.' It's good agitation, if that makes sense, because it keeps you moving and tinkering. I never would've thought we would have got this far, this soon; it has undoubtedly come as a result of larger committed tasks / jobs that have taken all day - see the petrol strimmer entry, and smaller intimate fifteen minute excursions. Everything counts.

Oh and Cakealot and I have started to move a giant hump of soil from behind the solardome foundation!

To summarise it's been an exciting few days. Here's the highlights :

Eric aka King Smethwick going ballistic with a roll of string, becoming entangled and doing two somersaults, then running next door.
An unintentional matching outfit catastrophe with Cakealot and I - namely the classic white t shirt and blue jeans look. This lead to camp posing with forks and spades, sneering comments about us looking like BROS and many, many Diet Coke break moments.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JvHroG3u5E Me singing this, much to Parsley's irritation.
Faux Michael Caine accent from yours truly - everything from picking up concrete chippings (Parsley has us doing the most ridiculous things), to PLOP BIRDS.
Things blossoming, growing, becoming beautiful. Even the two heavily weakened apple trees in our garden have flowered well this year.

Back to it! There's still lllllloads to be done!

Albert's Garden of Wonderment

2010-04-26T04:09:00.000-07:00

I have been concentrating on mine and David's garden for the last week or so. Mostly this has involved grafting various plants / herbs into different parts of the garden. So, we now have a wee herb bed with some oregano, rosemary and mint next to the barbecue; we have forget me nots by the pond; poppies by the conifer and some ultra tentative hollyhocks planted near the fence.

Additionally I have prepared some natty tins with compost for salad, and will try to grow some of our wild strawberries which always have tonnes of leaves but never seem to grow in their current habitat under the privet hedge where it is mostly shady.

We had a large fern which cut a long soil bed in half, so I cut it into five pieces which have been redistributed around the borders at the bottom of the garden. I hope they take. The viburnum is growing steadily as is the mystery tree / bush thingummy I moved from under the conifer last year. There's still a sycamore there too!

The biggest job was weeding. Around the apple tree toward the bottom of the garden and in the long soil bed aforementioned. I spent the best part of one day weeding - and this was only possible due to fabulous musical choice. As an illustration of what I've been caning my ears to whilst in my garden paradise - we're talking : Bill Withers, Miles Davis, Grime, Drum and Bass, Dave Pike, Billy Cobham, Bonnie Raitt, Simply Red - hilarious!, Brian Eno, Jelly Roll Morton etc. It all goes, in some weird sense. It all gels.

Once the weeding was done I raked over the topsoil and planted a combination of seeds - some bought for my Birthday : sunflower and meadow seeds and some given to me by the redoubtable Parsley after the wedding. I then staked the perimeter and lay down £5 netting - £5! CRAZY PAYMENT, making sure to block the gaps in the fence with nice big square bricks. However, can you imagine my unbridled wrath when I saw a feline sprawled out on my carefully prepared seed bed? Happily lolling in the sun. I was happily running down the garden with every intent on cranking open a can of feline smack down. This self same quadruped used to sit on our apple tree of a morning right above a nest, waiting for the mothership to come out. Red mist, then as now! Pure rage. I have never felt so connected to my garden and its welfare.

Let's see how it all goes. Fingers crossed for a prosperous Spring and Summer. Thus far, things are looking very good indeed.

King Smethwick & The Funky Trunk Transplant

2010-04-12T14:24:00.001-07:00

I am sad. I have only the wish to keep working on a) Our garden, b) Parsley and Cakealot's garden, or c) The Allotment. Any time apart amounts to a tugging at the navel, basically I just want to be gardening all the time!

Spring is well underway and already hints at the Summer to come. It will be glorious. It is glorious now. It can only get better.

The other day I was helping at the Masters residence. Parsley came over to discuss plans for our back garden, and believe me they will come to sweet fruition this year! More in a separate blog, if it so pleases. Having done that, we headed over, tooled up and started moving a beech / hazel tree. It lay in front of the raised beds at the back of the garden and needed shifting as it was getting in the way. It would be moved to join some bamboo, which eventually will sit behind the solardome. Cakealot and I were pumping pure python power (what alliteration!) into the removal of the said birch. We dug a sizeable perimeter around the tree so we could get to the root ball, occasionally plucking out bindweed.

I kept digging away bits until Cakealot rode in and jousted the tree cleanly from the ground. It took us both to lift it though, through heaviness but also care. It was then wheelbarrowed over to the fence. We then had to grub and mattock a monster root which was planted deep in the ground. P&C prior to the transplant had called in a stump grinder to clear the way. However these roots were deeper still, and needed some serious hacking. Both Cakealot and I were trembling like poplars by the time we managed to dig enough space to snugly plant the tree.

We ate some of Sir Cakealot's eight hour chili for lunch. Dispelling the common misconception that I never eat veg (and after my own admission of the same) I was eatin' them kidney beans like my life depended on it! So, so needed.

Thereafter there was high jinks from King Smethwick who did his annual trick of lying in all the beautiful Daffs, looking regal and naughty all at once. He actually reminds me of a cavalier, with his cheeky little black beard. Other synonymous folk include Frank Zappa! Come on, the likeness is uncanny!

We started to move the soil back into the hole we'd created, so that it could be re-turfed. It was an amazing afternoon, one with a slight hiatus (I had to go and see my GP for stomach related ills), but then back to work after two doughnuts and tea. In the dying hours of the afternoon, I planted varieties of lavender at the rear of the garden. It was a lot of work, like the old times (that is last year). And as ever, I want more. I am sad.

(Not so sad. Parsley came out with another classic mishearing. Dialogue goes like this :

Oregano : 'Haha! Look at that! Two blackbirds fighting mid-air!'

Parsley : 'Plop birds?'

Oregano : 'What?!'

Parsley : 'You said plop birds.'

Oregano : 'No I didn't I said blackbirds. Hang on a minute PLOP BIRDS! [sarcastic and insanely false laugh] Watch out for those plop birds.'

Crazy paving!

Bastard Trenching & Narcissus Pseudonarcissus

2010-04-01T07:10:00.000-07:00

Last week I dedicated a healthy portion of Thursday and Friday to the allotment with Cakealot and Parsley. On the Thursday I was digging a trench around the outside of the plot so the rainwater could drain off properly. How unfit I am. My rapidly dwindling energy left me feeling like a rag doll before lunch. So much so I had a power snooze when I got back. It barely helped! Where was the Greek god physique of last year? Why were the pythons asleep in the grass? Especially when there isn't any grass left?All the same I worked as hard as I could slopping out leaves, mud and twigs to see that precious trickle of water lead to the drain...Immersive.
Parsley and I were also weeding the brilliantly titled cooch grass (sometimes known as Witch grass, Twitch or Quack grass) - the bane of any gardeners existence, along with Mare's Tail. Not so brilliant in that there are still legions of it in the soil. Once we had dug as much of it out as our backs would allow, we raked over the topsoil and Kate sprinkled blood fish and bone fertilizer in preparation for planting the potatoes.Came home feeling like I'd been shot. This is one of the most rewarding elements of working outside. I love the dull ache that sits in my muscles. It feels like VICTORY.

A new visitor to the allotment was a furry flame by the name of Monterey Jack. If I find out in the future that it's a female, rest assured her name will be Monterey Jacqueline. MJ was a strange one, always rolling about, running up to you then legging it. Thus far we have three (garden related) amazing cats - Tad Wilder, Gigasmethick, and Monterey Jack. For your viewing pleasure here they all are in one place :

What a trio!

On the Friday Cakealot started digging some serious trenches for the potatoes. It took me four times as long to dig a trench! Now whilst this wasn't strictly bastard trenching it was a bastard on my back and knees and legs. It started raining pretty heavily so digging became even more difficult. WEAK! However, six - seven rows of tatties were prepared, taking up most of two plots - which of course means us having to dig more and more! We still have plenty of space left.

Parsley planted some of my surplus daffodil bulbs at the bottom of the plot as they'd started to sprout in the bag. Remember my blog of September 13th fame? Well, my daffs have come out but some of them are already dead, which breaks my heart - seriously! However my (now) favourite Narcissus Pseudonarcissus have come out in all their pale glory - I am looking out at them now. I am smiling.

Project Solardome Part 1

2010-03-09T13:30:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5dy553E_oa0

Let's get that one out of the way for starters! Project Solardome!

I was up at 6.30 on Saturday morning, feeling raw as a potato, having had about three hours sleep - part excitement, part insomnia, part Czech rum. Parsley and Cakealot were equally ko'd when I went over to eat a vegetarian breakfast at their DOMEstead. So many changes this year.

We didn't get started proper until around nine, when the redoubtable Alex Johnson came in his Boratmobile - a beautiful mustard VW van, replete with tools. Same went for P&C. It was proper heist territory - glass suckers, stanley knives, power drills, rope; the works. We headed out to Lincoln, getting a bit lost, paying an extortionate amount at a toll booth, with me sleeping in the back seats. 0 stamina and endurance. But that was to change.

Rolled up to the house around 12. The dome was tucked away in the back garden / yard - betwixt a telegraph pole and a privet hedge. The owner was hilarious : a purple faced loon who called his cat Mum. We kept hearing him periodically coming out of the house saying 'Hellllllooooo Muuuuuum!' It took us a while to work out what was going on.

The dome itself was very impressive. In the photos it looks fairly small but I assure you the effect is quite the opposite. A dead robin was a bad omen! So be it. Parsley talked with Alex

about how we were going to go about taking it down (start from the top and work your way down - I guarantee I'd have messed this up if left to my own devices). Then she numbered all the glass panes - 120 if I'm not mistaken - whilst I removed nuts from what I can only describe as metal oysters, then WD40'd a load of nuts on the inside for later, coping was removed, I was as ever clueless and needed directing.

The biggest part of the job was removing the silicone which was holding the glass in place. Palette knives, stanleys, toothbrushes and warm soapy water - everything came into play. Alex and Parsley initially tackled the highest panes, with Cakealot and I scrimping and scraping the lower tiers of glass. Thereafter it was all change. With the first few panes being brought down (the very first cracked, our morale never did) we took some time out to assess the situation and eat. The predicted four hour takedown plan became so much longer.

It was slow work - with a very careful series of readjustments being made to how the glass was stored in the van - lots of bubble wrap and old blankets and an advanced lesson in trigonometry and spatial awareness. All the while purple conk was screaming hello Mam, his yappy dogs were going mental, it was getting colder. Time was not on our side - or rather the light wasn't. Indeed we worked right through to nine o' clock.

Once all the glass had been removed (no mean task), we still had to take down the frame - a colossal geodesic nightmare! I left the boys to that one, taking out the bottom vents / segments that were resting on breeze blocks, and carrying materials, tools etc to the van. The stars were out and I managed to identify Ursa Major. Pat on the back for a manifestly cold Oregano.

This was hands down one of the longest most exhausting days of work I've done in a long time and I did a third of what Cakealot, Alex and Parsley did. Yet, I loved it. I would do it again and I would recommend GEODESIC SOLAR DOMES to everyone. Do I want a unique geodesic focal point in my garden? Yes please! Do I want practical applications and benefits for my plants and veg? Yes please! Do I want to wake up the morning after helping transport a solardome, feeling like I've been shot? Yes please!

Remember this is only part 1. There will be many more to follow, as so far we have only transported it from Lincoln to the domestead. Weeee!

Adendum: A few years back Minda and I came up with a list of dome related puns. Four pages of A4 were filled. Here's a rundown of some of the better ones :

chrome dome

Big Trouble in Little Dome Town

White Men Can't Dome

Obi-Wan ka Dome Me

Dome2D2

System of a Dome

Domeformers

Home Adome

Buffy the Dome Slayer

Eastenddome

Dome and Away

Somebody answer the bleedin DOME

Die Another Dome

Dome White and the Seven Domes

Etc!

Project Daffodil / Viburnum

2010-03-03T12:10:00.000-08:00

I am extremely excited. Project SOLARDOME is but a few days away. I'm not saying any more until after Saturday, but good times for good people - they are coming.

The daffodils are emerging. If you cast your eye back to my Blog in September, I was paranoid I wasn't doing it properly; those juicy lean green stems speak volumes to the opposite, however.

There are some other tentative growths too, throughout the garden. At first I thought they were weeds...but something tells me otherwise. Gardening intuition! Now there's a thought. I was talking to my Charlie and Ben* on Saturday about how my instincts were kicking in and the schematics for the garden were sprouting from my sub conscious! Thank G Unit it's Spring, I feel so much more in touch with things.

Mum and Dad brought me a cutting from their Viburnum tree in January. It's famous for a Dad classic: 'Have you sniffed the tree?' Draw your own conclusions. Anyway, this was planted at the bottom of the garden where I hope it will take nicely. I think there's the option to move it if there's not enough sunlight. So far, more or less everything has taken well, but having come out properly for the first time in many months, I see that everything has died back: it's all sludge brown foliage or leaves as dry as a skeleton. Cycles, yo.

Oregano out. There will be many more blogs hitting this space soon! PROJECT SOLARDOME especially...wow.

Payce. (Peace).

*Flame on!

New Beginnings

2010-02-14T07:34:00.000-08:00

February - what a ghastly month it's been already. Thank God for small miracles though - our wicked wicked allotment for one. I've been away for far too long, Jack Frost getting his boot in these past polar months; introspection, short days, long nights, and much Machiavellian brooding to fill a period of time better spent in hibernation.

Took a brief journey down to the plot for the first time this year, and instantly I was reminded of all I've been missing. Jake's been hard at work, creating channels, troughs and bridges across our shared earth.

It's satisfying to see the land take shape after all the preparation that's gone into it. It looks nice and clearly demarcated at the moment but come spring the weeding will commence full steam ahead; time to get the pythons in training. Plus there's still reams of plastic, bottles and cans lying about - it's a constant tidy up mission. But it suits me fine as I'm turning into a CONTROL FREAK! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nG8gF2XcCas. Hats off to those of you who remember that little gem.

Addendum : Apologies to KT for calling her Oregano in my text messages. The stresses of day to day life without the rejuvenating force of gardening has pickled my already demented brain.

Roll on Spring and a much greater output of G UNIT blogs, even if you don't like them! X

Put a Slammin' Burn Up On It!

2009-11-08T08:42:00.000-08:00

It has been all too long since I published a post; all too long since I have been on the allotment proper with my favourite green fingered pals Kt and Jake, aka Parsley and Sir Cakealot. One installment for October! Agh, for shame. I've been far too busy pedaling my new novella : Blood & Rorschach - see http://www.insertspace.org.uk/blood&rorschach.htm for more details. That, and suffering from a three week shit storm that was flu, becoming a Godfather...yadda yadda!

It was great to get back on the scene, albeit hungover and badly prepared for a burn up in Cakealot parlance. It was a late October afternoon, and the allotment had transformed from a warm verdant and yellow haven to a colder, yet subtly more beautiful grey, orange and black one. Leaves everywhere, good for mulching - strewn all about. Cakealot raked some up and made a ramshackle leaf bin to join my even more ramshackle composting bins.

Parsley and Cakealot prepared the fire with a pile of thorny twigs and hay that we had raked off on the great strimmer crusade back in September, whilst I ran back to get my gardening gloves, left behind in excitement / forgetfulness. The conflagration was coming on a treat by the time I got back, with me nearly putting an end to it by swamping it with Glypho-hay. It was smouldering mightily - with great gusts of green and blue smoke which lead me to say 'Satan's Nostrils.' Shortly after the fire burst into life.

By turns we stood and admired the columns of flame or kept throwing on the dead branches & c. It was sweaty work, always a bit of a paradox in cold weather. I think the old spirit of destruction was rife. I did a little Native American Indian dance and a verse to dispel Ian's ghost - time's tide has eroded my memory but I know it ended with a line like : 'No more 1664 this day.'

The fire was a beautiful sight and felt like an organic progression in the growth of our plot. Plus the ash that was left over was raked into the recently forked soil, which should be a immense boon for our potatoes which Jake will be planting very soon.

The resident favourite feline Gigasmethick appeared to say hello, reminding me of the manifold charms of an allotment. It just gets better every time. With the imminence of a proper Winter I'm interested to see the changes that will take place. Already I've worked less on the gardening front than I might like, but my interest hasn't diminished one bit. The good old Bulldog spirit - but in my case a wiry Schnauzer. Stay tuned!

Operation Blackberry or, Destruction of Cat City

2009-10-01T04:33:00.000-07:00

The long awaited Operation Blackberry finally went underway last week. Basically, Parsley and I set about drastically cutting back all the brambles that were surrounding the plot. Satan had truly had his way with the berries by this point, as for the most part they were shriveled and inedible.

I went to it with customary brio, yet in the true way of nature vs nurture, I felt divided. All this from someone who was ready to nuke the lot! For the most part I was using my telescopic loppers - yes they are as awesome as they sound, even if it's not the technical term for them. As some of the thorny stems were so thick and buried it took good old Python power to hack them up. Otherwise we were getting in with the secateurs. Make no mistake it's a messy job. Sir Cakealot had forewarned me in a scene that unfolded not entirely unlike this :

Sir Cakealot brings three steaming goblets of tea to his round table where he's holding council with his wife Lady Masters and his aide Sir Edward of Wakefield.

Sir Cakealot : 'Hark, Sir Edward. M'lady tells me you are set to tackle the veritable beast that is the bramble bush on yonder.'

Sir Edward : 'T'is true me Lord, I have about my person the very weapons by which I shall best the beast,' so saying Sir Edward arrays before him an axe, throwing knives & c.

Sir Cakealot : 'Hmmm, you may need more than that, there are wild cats about, the Manx sort as I have heard; the brambles are as steel and will whip and gouge at the merest provocation too. Look,' Sir Cakealot draws back the sleeves of his tunic and displays an impressive array of white scars, small lacerations offset by coiled serpentine wounds.

Sir Edward : 'Ha, t'is but sport sir! Let us see what the day brings.'

Lady Masters : 'Grow up.'

I ignored the pain of getting my arms shredded. Even with a jumper on I was pockmarked by the cat tooth sharpness of some of the thorns. It was like a jungle, a dense canopy of old, dead leather brown stems and the hardy youth of the emerging new ones. The cutting back was addictive though, so we kept going, amassing some three or four giant piles of thorny detritus.

Sir Cakealot brought magnums over at around four o' clock. That gave me some much needed energy and I went ape with a rake, smashing down and pulling up bramble city aka cat city. The felines love it in there, what with frogs, rats and mice. That or they're just being weirdos.

In the meantime, I shall mostly be admiring my own collection of small scars. It's like a tally of how many bramble kills I've made. I'm not violent, honest.

A good days work makes for a bit o' the old two thumbs fresh.

I ♡ Petrol Strimmers

2009-09-20T01:32:00.000-07:00

For Kate, this was the day we achieved the most on the allotment. I coaxed up other examples - the great 1664 shift, building the compost bins, laying down the GLYCO/glypho. But in the end I think she was right. Just look at the progress we've made :

Awesome! At last it feels like we're making some proper headway.

It started late, as we were procrastinating largely, and I had to head to the dreaded Kings Heath Sainsbury's which barely ever seems to be quiet. It fills me with dread, worse than going to the dentist or a Westlife special on ITV. So I was glad to get out of there and down to the allotment, fully tooled up with huge reams of plastic, a fork, the petrol strimmer + cables for chopping. We worked out we hadn't been in three and a bit weeks so we were eager to go.

There was a setback / bonus in that all our rubbish had been shifted from the bottom of the allotment. Trouble was we still had tonnes of carpet and other bits to dump - essentially we were hoping for one giant shift. But it wasn't to be! Maybe if we're really lucky we can get the council to shift the second batch, but it looks like a gruesome prospect. The spirit of Ian is still playing tricks on us it seems.

Nonetheless it was a beautiful day, mellow sun and full wildlife activity, including a stoned out Gigasmethwick. I started out in the stress mode, looking around bewildered at the amount we had given ourselves, but as soon as I started peeling back the carpet and seeing how effective the weedkiller had been, I was 'becalmed'. As ever worry was banished by a bit of the old GET ON WITH IT mentality. As we only had one rake, I went back to get my hideous lime green Wilko one, in the process making an earl grey for Kt (Parsley) and swaddling the cup in cling film to keep it hot on the way back. It's pretty handy living two minutes away from paradise.

Once I'd eaten I managed to apply myself properly. Kt taught me how to start the petrol strimmer - it's not as easy at it sounds haha. Maybe it would've helped if I hadn't been so sarcastic about how to turn the button to on, and then completely forgetting to do so as I was furiously pulling the rip cord to no effect. What a machine. When it was working I felt like Hephaestus yielding one of his creations, ploughing through the grass like a reaper, with dock leaf juice splatting me in the face, or sharp stubs of dried grass whizzing past my ears. Health & Safety would've had a fit as I wasn't wearing goggles, but to be honest it was the pythons I was more worried about. The ache came from the weight of the strimmer and the vibrations passing through my hands. When I stopped - and that was often, my hands were tingling so bad I felt like I'd just been wrestling with an electric eel. I roared with boyish glee. But then ol' Petrol head decided he didn't want to work for two hours, so I went flip mode and raked off surplus grass with a Samson like fury. We built up a healthy sized pile of glypho - hay near the rear end of the plot. As we'd been clearing a lot of the paths that surrounded the plot, we had a much clearer idea of where we could start digging, with the advantageous prospect of not having our ankles buckled by potholes or hidden bumps. It was really starting to come together.

Jake came over for a while and attacked the blackberry bushes to free up our apple trees. I likened him to Sir Cakealot as he was jousting the brambles with a rake and a spade. He made surprising headway. I was perpetually referring to the myth of Satan pissing on the blackberry bushes as a reason for the shriveled berries see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackberry and look under superstition and myths. Sir Cakelot also tried his hand at getting the strimmer started, throwing down the gauntlet when it just wouldn't start.

The Cider apples :) The Crabs :s

We kept going. The bulldog spirit was never more alive! My left shoulder was killing so I figured I'd pulled a muscle. Took it easy for a little while then we decided to give the strimmer one last go. It proved to be a productive decision. That baby roared into life and I did the longest strim of the day! Managed to suppress most of the grass on the top half of the plot, moving slowly down to batter the rest and swell an already huge pile of hay - which I flattened slightly by a couple of massive elbow drops. Sir Cakealot was too knightly and had his best armour on so he looked like he was fainting like a damsel when he attempted said wrestling move.

My pythons were weeping but I ploughed on as Parsley raked for her life. We wound up some time around 5.30, recovering the areas we'd strimmed with a combination of the plastic and carpet. Just like Kate said we need to get the ground HOT AND SMELLY. Haha! Proper little sweat shop going on. With an abundance of bricks we secured the coverings, most of which will be left for over winter. Next week we will cut back the brambles - FINALLY! And maybe start some tentative digging. Today really was an eye opener and progress though slow has never been more steady. G unit for lyf (life).

Mole Hammer Blend

2009-09-17T13:53:00.000-07:00

For the first time since the wedding, Kate and I worked on her lush garden. It started with digging around the wall in Peggerrr's garden. I hadn't been long at it when the tree stump (in the advanced stages of rotting) gave way like an old molar, and beams of prismatic light shone through the heavens! Haha. I'm exaggerating, but only a little bit. I stood there with my foot on the trunk thinking there were a million worse states to be in at 9.45 am. Carried on shifting more dirt until some builders came along (who will be damp-proofing & c.), a genial father and son combo, who told me I should leave the stones in for drainage. You learn something every day.

After a cup of tea, I divided the felled stump with a bow saw, using a grub and mattock to smash the hell out of what remained. All I needed was a white vest and a can of diet coke and my ascension to hunk status would've been assured. Instead I had a rugged barnet, lynx Africa jumper and Howard from Take That jeans. But I was happy.

More teas later and after some 'lish sandwiches we got to forking over the large corner section of the garden that housed the marquee for the marriage. This was to prepare for a turf delivery. She had considered sowing grass seeds but the terrorists (Tinker & Eric, resident loon cats) would've voided their bums and not though twice of ruining a best laid plan.

The soil was a lovely rich guinness colour, and largely devoid of perennial weeds, as we'd done such an A team job of suppressing them the first time round. Kate had demarcated the area she wanted the turf to go up to, allowing space for the chiminea and seats. It's a wicked feeling to sit around with a tartan blanket, supping and talking like hoboes. Cold season coming people.

This took us up to about 5 o' clock, as we'd also had a visit from Kate's parents, Alan and Sandy - their first mention in a while! Both Kate and I agreed it had been a good day's work, and our energy was high. In fact I was buzzing for many hours afterwards, not least because, against the odds, one of my plants had flowered after the stem had been shorn and I had pretty much given it up for dead. Now that's what I'm talking about. When in doubt, stake it!

Here's a recap on some of the G UNIT sayings we've been volleying since February.

Piggin' and a diggin' (on a Saturday night).
Duncan Hammertime (Duncan Bannatyne)
Theo the foetus (Theo Paphitis)
T Pain (Peter Jones -> T Bone -> T Pain, naturally)
What the f***k are you doing ED?
SMETHWICK (nickname for Eric)
WINKS (nickname for Tinker)
Mo' Hammer Head
Mo' Hammer Blend
Glyco
Insanely false laughter Haaaa
'I don't know what's happening in the rest of the world, but this garden is f*cking wicked.'
Tea?
Put a donk on it.
G UNIIIIIT! (This was even screamed during wedding speeches.)

Plenty more where that came from HAAAAAAAAAA.

I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud

2009-09-13T13:36:00.000-07:00

Ian, aka Robert Rojack, one of my best mates from Manchester was visiting me this weekend. As he was due to come down in the evening I had time to plant my daffodil bulbs that I'd acquired. Of course I ended doing a lot more.

It was a beautiful day on Friday. The garden, although nascent when it comes to flowers, was teeming with energy and light. Our

very own wasp central was alive with bees and wasps. I just stood there for a while watching ludicrous numbers of them pollinating, and the odd Red Admiral butterfly alighting and rapidly twitching its wings as if in warning. Had a bit of dubstep by way of Bill Withers playing on my minidisc, so I was walking as if in an underwater mosh pit quite a bit, which probably cemented my place as an English eccentric in my neighbours minds. That, or an idiot.

Started by clearing away some of the ivy roots that remained round the first apple tree, and set to with my trowel, digging holes three times the height of each bulb. It doesn't translate well in this pic but I assure you I took time to do it properly. I think. Haha! I do get really paranoid that I'm doing it wrong. As the result won't be evident for many months to come all I can do is wait...The same principle applied to the apple tree at the bottom of the garden, with somewhere in the region of 50 bulbs planted in total. I even buried some at the front of the house, in a really shady patch behind the wall. I have categorically no idea whether they will grow or not. Either way it will be interesting.

Transplanting a fern (again no idea which family it belongs to or it's proper name) to the bottom of garden neatly offset the two baby hostas I'd picked up at Gardener's Weekend (now replete with an anti slug bed of broken egg shells kindly supplied by Parsley). The lady's mantle was planted near the geraniums and fuschia cuttings that Ma Wakefield brought over a few months ago. Even then the ties to this garden and indeed my future gardening endeavours on a whole were tightening, as I couldn't sleep wondering whether they were going to take to the soil or die a premature death. Jake told me not long ago there's nothing worse than doing everything as you should, only to see that something fail. That applies to so much more than gardening don't you think?

The day was still warm and buzzing by the time I'd tidied up. Just when I thought it was time to tie it all up, Sam our wicked neighbour lent me his hover mower. I'd been meaning to ask but was trepid. So I got an extra hours work out of that which made the overall tally about five and a half hours graft. As Parsley was ribbing me about my attempts at starting work earlier, and doing more, I was fairly pleased at what I'd achieved.

There are bigger jobs coming! Parsley and I have discussed the fine points over earl grey and the occasional scream of G UNIT! Soon you can expect to hear tales of turfing, canopies, Tim Burton (all will be explained), Smethwick, Winks & c. More allotment work on Tuesday potentially. Stay tuned.

A tired and jubilant Oregano signing out - X

LLLLLeeeeeeks!

2009-09-13T13:33:00.000-07:00

A week ago, I was here. God I miss it already. Look at those LLLllleeeeeeeks! X

Roots

2009-09-08T12:35:00.000-07:00

Gardener's Weekend 2009! The words were enough to raise the heckles, acting as a call to arms to all amateur and pro gardeners, congregating under a massive tent to ogle at a floral tribute to Matthew Boulton :

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matthew_Boulton. Little did I know he comprises one third of that toffee wrapper gold statue at the bottom of Broad Street. For shame, Oregano!

Usually I get in the stress mode with large groups of people. You have only to consider the events of Saturday : the English defence league, protesting against Muslim extremists, with 90 arrests, around New Street and Bennetts Hill, which is on my way to the bus. Last time a whole section of New Street from the Odeon down to Waterstone's was cordoned off by riot police. I'm digressing, but my point is built up areas make me get in the stress mode. Slow moving people, screaming kids, the sharp discontinuity exchanged in a glance, to quote Georg Simmel. But coming to King's Heath Park it felt different. I just let myself slide into things and dare I say it - I was a bit excited too.

Moving past the floral tribute, we went straight over to the Vegetable Competition. Morbleu! From dinky raspberries to massive llleeeeks (an in joke, see me for details), you had everything. Some of the prizewinners provoked well earned sneers - 'Those tomatoes are straight from Sainsbury's!' whereas others you just couldn't fault, like onions that were so smooth and spherical they looked sculpted, lettuces like verdant elephants ears, carrots the length of my arm, even a solitary pumpkin which won first prize because it was the only pumpkin there! HAHA! Cruising through I couldn't resist a photo in my Craig David jumper :

Pure social venom (not you Jake!)

God knows what people were thinking, however we weren't the only weirdos about - it was a

veritable swarm of eccentrics. Some of the laughs I heard were hilarious. I thought my laugh was loud; these dudes in their blazers, florid faced and absurdly jolly were veritably bellowing, shaking petals off the flowers, rattling the stalls. Awesome.

We then moved on to the fabled gardens, which only get opened every so often. It's not hard to see why. It was amazing. I won't even attempt to name the plants and flowers we saw, because Kate (Parsley) will call me a dork. All I can give is an impression of how it made me feel.

Peaceful, happy. It's that simple. In the end it's all about reaching

that point, that discovery, no matter how putative that may seem. Along the way we were picking up on structural pointers for our allotment - whether it was the ingenious use of an anderson shelter for growing veg over, frames, or the best angles to grow runner beans at (expounded by a ludicrously enthusiastic hobbit).

Speaking of learning, there was a kiosk advertising vocational courses in Horticulture & Garden Design. I was well made up but too embarrassed to go and ask for details. Kate went up for me which sparked off a running gag about how she was my Mum and Jake my Dad. Dialogue ran along these lines:

Kate: 'Do you think Ed looks young enough to be my son?'

Jake: 'No. [Miniscule pause] Lose the facial hair and about four foot, and maybe.'

Ed : 'Yeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaah' (in a Roland Rat* voice).

However the £650 tag for the one year course left me feeling slightly less than enthusiastic. Then the inevitable question of what I would do with the certificate once I had it...Not to be pessimistic, who knows? Just not this year. Onwards G UNIT!

After admiring the carefully tended grass trodden down into a brown mess, considered the finer points of water features, met the Hobbit again and sighed at a greenhouse full of blight ridden tomatoes and potatoes, we went hunting for some bulbs. Following advice from the inimitable Parsley, I picked up a bag of Allium Purple Sensations for my sister and her boyfriend who have recently had a baby. For our garden in Kings Heath I bought a docking 100 bag of Daffodil bulbs, which I shall be planting next week. In addition I picked up a fern, some Alchemilla Mollis aka Lady's Mantle, and two types of Hosta which will look great at the bottom of our garden, as most of it lies in the shade.

Snake legged it to put a chicken in the oven, which gave Kate and I time to look and laugh at appalling garden decorations - skull and crossbones with 'I'm an X factor Winner' chalked underneath may be topical but don't strike me as wow material for discerning garden folk. I was also secretly amused by the ludicrous variety of dogs walking around, including a clown faced Sharpei. Maybe I should write a dog blog...

Nipped over to the Red Lion for a quick drink where we met Denise & Mel, who are fast becoming some of my favourite people in 'Nam**. We headed back to pick up some last minute bargains. I'm glad to say the Matthew Boulton flower display was honourably redistributed to the public at a £1 a pop for a plant or two which gave me a keen sense of completeness.

It was an awesome day. A younger version of Ed would've laughed, taken the piss or got bored and moody like a child-git, but no. This was just what I wanted. I'm emotionally attached now. Roots, yo.

*Kate's fault entirely, playing a 7" of Rat Rappin' by Roland Rat before we left the house was bound to stir up some imitations.

*BirmingNAM as in an abbreviation of Vietnam. Nam. etc

Pegerrrrrrrrrrrr*

2009-09-05T14:17:00.000-07:00

* Imagine saying Peggy in a Biggles voice. Go on, say it loud. Peg-errrr! No, this is not a random exercise in elocution, but the name of Kate's neighbour who we helped on Thursday.

In a diversion from our allotment work, G unit applied itself to the removal of weeds - predominantly nettles and creeping bastards (as you can tell my knowledge of botany is minimal, but I'm learning all the time), just behind the back wall of Kate's garden. This had a dual purpose. One to clear some of Pegerr's garden, secondly to get a better look at the wall as it is decaying and will probably need lime pointing. This is all quoted from the G unit Autumn Newsletter which Kate sent me today. All I know is how to move things in a manly way. The bigger plans are drawn by the mastermind,

Parsley!

With that in mind I shifted a load of bricks, bagged up some nettle and creeping b's in a short burst of work that lasted about an hour. This was after all, a brief preliminary. Ten days away from the allotment because of inclement weather means Oregano needs to feed his pythons!

Took Ma & Pa Wakefield to see the allotment in the evening for five minutes, photos to follow. They are suitably impressed even though we are still in effect in possession of a field! Gardening Show tomorrow! Yes Mum!

Bloody creeping bastards!

The Ballad of Pombré the Shivering Rat

2009-08-25T10:26:00.000-07:00

What a ridiculous day. I thought we were only going to put down a bit more carpet, drop some glyphosate aka the glyco and nip off before it started to rain. Instead I encountered :

Allotment rage
Python power to match Kaa (see Jungle Book)
Ian's poltergeist strewing more cans of 1664
Pombre* the baby rat
Half naked dancing in the rain
A thumb like Mark King from Level 42
Pig and Peanut sangers
Etc.

* The name Pombre comes from Kate's mishearing of hombre. Quite what I was saying

hombre for in the first place is beyond me.

All was going well till I saw an old dude chopping down our blackberry bushes at the back of the allotment. This coming from someone who wants to napalm them arghhahah! He'd lifted one of his fencing panels and come through. I was really pissed off, but Kate reigned me in - I'm still fuming...pointlessly. Plus it turns out another septuagenerian has been on the case. Yes, the blackberry thief! Turns out he's had a letter from the council for prior misdemeanors and he's still keen on pilfering our apples and blackberries. Feel like it's time to break out the Rotties, searchlights and chain links! Why are people so invasive? Or am I being too precious? On with the ballad.

We sat down for lunch, Kate trying the old Pig & Peanut sandwich combo for the first and last time in her adult life. I've got to admit it's time to drop the sacred recipe. We both felt ill, just for different reasons. How brave!

It started raining so I moved our seats under the trees to stay covered. That's when I discovered if I moved my thumb, it wrecked. Kate told me to man up, but she wasn't the one with a digit that could stop an NY taxi in heavy traffic or double up as a meat mallet. So, there I was flexing my purple thumb, feeling sorry for myself, with allotment rage boiling in my cranium, whilst Kate suffered the effect of a concussion (I'll let her tell the tale). I was patently being a wimp. HOWEVER! We carried on! Started pulling back all the old multi-layered carpet that was near the compost bins, picking up a seemingly limitless trail of bottles and cans. It took us ages. We were alternately bagging up the trash or moving the decrepified carpet to the dumping ground at the foot of the plot. Enough was enough, and once it started raining again I went ape, took my top off and started dancing to this little classic : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OsQo_cXouuc. Kate did a brave rendition, but she was laughing too much as you can see.

Kate shouted for me to come over after discovering Pombre. It sounded

pretty urgent so I made my way with all haste. Hark! Mini Pombre the bald rat! He was a tiny little thing, shivering and defenceless and to all appearances blind. Like an idiot I took a photo and the flash went off which probably scared / blinded him even more. We went to some pretty crazy lengths to cover him up again - with corrugated metal and carpet. I did a Dolittle again, as Gigasmethwick was on the prowl licking his lips. Kate was shouting at me because it was time to leave 'It's just a rat, Ed,' I just couldn't leave him alone.

I can say a few things in confidence : I have a bright future in slap bass if my thumb stays at it is, Pig & Peanut is a better name for a Gastro pub than it is a sandwich combo, and we still have tonnes to do - but we're doing it. Every day we're there the earth opens a new pandora's box, a new set of challenges in and around itself - be it errant white haired twerps, verbal battles, potholes, rain, toxic rats, stressed out cats, ubiquitous bloody weeds. Is that all you've got? Hope Pombre makes it through the night...

Dandies & Blackberries

2009-08-22T05:05:00.000-07:00

Pre-Chicago, pre - rain, pre illness, David and I paid a visit to the allotment yesterday. He picked blackberries whilst I shifted scrap metal, tubing and mildewed wood from the back of the plot. The weather couldn't make up its mind - alternating between grizzled drizzle and full beams of sunlight.

The bottom of the plot looks like a royal tip now, heaped bin bags and corrugated tin looking like a floe of junk. What purpose did this rubbish serve to Ian? I'm eager to shed this skin and to let loose the full potential of the space we have been given. However, if there's one thing I've learned in the past month, purely from the allotment and our garden, it's the value of patience, the understanding that it's alright to S.L.O.W down - that it's a necessity even. Kate and Jake know this better than me, as in my haste I would napalm all the blackberry bushes just because they're so meaty and encroaching. In their own way they have a prickly, ramshackle beauty. I just want to cut them back as they're weighing down a burgeoning apple tree. All in good time.

Once the junk had been shifted, and David had left with a tub full of rubus fruticosus, I felt a bit listless. Started raking back some more of the dead grass, bagging up errant cans and pulling up carpet / tarpaulin. That was one of the only good things Ian had done - left a layer down to stop grass and weed growth - albeit in small patches. This will stand us in better stead once it comes to digging over the ground, post glyphosate and what not.

Back on the allotment on Tuesday, when I will hopefully feel better. Fresh air's supposed to be good for you, not make you feel like a bag of meal. (Convalescent) Oregano signing out.

Fat Pigeons, Hedgehogs and Howard from Take That

2009-08-19T12:19:00.000-07:00

As you can see, the likeness is truly remarkable.

Parsley : 'Haha! You look like Howard from Take That in your crap blue jeans!'

Oregano : 'Shut up, Gary.'

Parsley : 'Have you not got a belt for those jeans Howard? Your arse is hanging out.'

Oregano : 'I'm gonna take a running kick at your faff in a minute.'

Parsley : 'Sing a Take That song, Howard - COULD IT BE MAGIC NOW! Hang on, stop saying faff please.'

So started another day of allotment hilarity. We went down with a wheelbarrow load of glyphosate, carpet from Thinktank, petrol strimmer, boots, minging sandwiches (mine at least - consider the combination of processed honey roast ham and peanut butter....on cold toast), secateurs, water and bin bags. We were all set for a long day's work.

Ate lunch and talked for about an hour in the sun, on our kudos Pavilion (refer to Allotment Toimes for a photo). Thereafter Kate picked blackberries from our burgeoning little jungle. I bagged up yet more bottles from an overgrown crate next to wasp central. Once it was emptied, I moved the crate to the back fence where it became our fourth composting bin. Hacking back at the tangle of snakes (not Pythons) that was nettle, bramble and weed, I moved about three / four barrow loads to be composted. As the plot is

still thickly overgrown, I was traversing ankle - breaker holes and paving slabs. Muchas gracias to Jake aka Snakeob for uncovering a few of the paths that were laid down by Ian the wraith.

Work was very gradual. However the banter was thick and fast - I'd say 70% Take That reference, 15% inadequate belt and jeans complaints, 10% mockery of my accent 3% apple theft references and 2% Dr Dolittle, as will shortly be explained.

Amidst the verbal warfare we had battles of another kind. Cats perpetually chasing frogs in the dense undergrowth, Gigasmethwick playing basketball with tin foil, blunt machete chops and a dying hedgehog. We were just starting on the glyco treatment when Kate found Terry (as she named him) Sonic, as I less imaginatively added, hobbling about near the water tap. Poor sod, he was suffering in the heat, and looked like he was going to die. I was enraged when I saw two Blow Flies laying eggs right on his eyelid. Mother nature is a cruel bitch sometimes.

We got him some water but he barely touched it. Kate picked him up and carried him over to the shade at the back of the plot, around the compost bins. We found some slugs for him to eat : at first he barely even touched them. His breathing was stertorous, as he limped along or just slumped on the ground. I picked off the eggs with a combination of twigs and shoots, they were really impacted around his eye, it was gutting. However when his claw extended and he pulled that slug into his skanky little chops and chewed away, it was something else. Procured some water and let him get on his way. Good luck little buddy!

I neglect to mention Snakeob had brought some beers and red wine, which went everywhere as my Pythons went to work on the cork...with a fork. I'm a poet, and boy don't I show it. Kate and I stayed a little while longer, as it grew cold. Talk of the ancients. Had a proper belly laugh when a fat pigeon flew into a tree just behind us and immediately snapped the branch it landed on, flying in the opposite direction as if to say 'Yeah, well I meant to do that! Haha!' A bit like falling over then making it look like you're tying your shoelaces. Pigeons are dorks.

Watch this space for more Parsley and Howard...I mean Parsley and Oregano adventures!

oooooh GLYCO!

Glyphosate & Compost Bins

2009-08-16T10:24:00.000-07:00

Our plan of action is now taking proper shape. Over the next few weeks we will be spreading / sprinkling the glyphosate in gradual sections, starting from the middle of the plot, then laying down carpet to prevent the rain washing it all away. The first bit of the plot we're combatting naturally, just laying down carpet and avoiding chemicals to see how effective a measure this can be to surpress the weed and grass growth.

As I spent ages banging together a huge compost

bin from old palettes, Kate started strimming back the grass. The trouble lay in the fact that we had at least three years worth of uncut grass to contend with. The older, yellowing dead grass was covering the emergent green stuff, making it hard for Kate to get right down and cut it all down to a manageable level. We had to rake off the top layers of strimmed grass and bung it in the compost bins, along with brambles that seemed determined to tear the hell out of my pythons.

Kate mixed the glyphosate shortly after as the sky was looking like a grumpy Patriarch - all silver and black. We covered a relatively small section as we didn't have the full rolls of carpet to hand. That's for next week. Already the plot looks massively improved, as noted by our kindly neighbours who gave us some courgettes.

The more we work the land the more we realize what we're up against - prehistoric weeds, seeds of pernicious plants that can survive for 40 years, flooding, mare's tail... I think we all have our worries and concerns, but when it boils down to it - nothing compares with sitting there and taking things in. For that feeling alone I will lend any amount of python power.

Right I'm off to wash my jumper and jeans which haven't been cleansed since February...08. The smell of sweat and 'Lynx Africa' doth hardly a gentleman make.

Glyco down...looking good!

Peckersmith

2009-08-14T04:39:00.000-07:00

Work started late on the Tuesday afternoon, sometime after two o' clock. It was a blazing hot day, stirring up wasp central at the foot of the allotment; wearing us out quickly. As ever though we started in earnest, trying hard to ignore the massively annoying tree surgeons jousting in the trees with chainsaws. I gave them the Churchill as you can see.

Again we set to clearing away more cans and bottles. The last resident was a lazy git! Sometimes I can see where he was coming from. The huge plot....sitting there soporific with heat or resigned in the colder seasons, drinking. How miserable. I even had verbals with his ghost yesterday.

Worse than nettles or brambles the thickness of a baby's arm is an empty can of Kronenberg or the ping of a dilated cider bottle under the sun. Changes are coming, Mr Ghost.

On a much more positive note we found a new friend : PECKERSMITH! aka Gigasmethwick, aka Gigasmeth, aka Gilgamesh etc. According to Sue, everyone calls him Felix. Friendly to a fault, photogenic and hilarious! He is one of three felines I have seen prowling the allotments.

After a few breaks, we waded into the jungle of brambles and nettles. We're lucky in that we have copious blackberries, redcurrants and an apple tree. But on the whole it is still a jungle out there. Cutting our way through the denser parts flocking the left side of the allotment, Kate collected enough blackberries to make a fair few pots of Jake's fabled jam. Snake Jam no less! Speaking of snakes my pythons were stung to high hell by the nettles. Hoping that I'm building an immunity.

We wrapped things up some time between six or seven. Jake brought some of the old Cold & Gold - I couldn't have been more appreciative even if it echoed the bad habits of the aforementioned ghoul. Unlike Mr Poltergeist we didn't throw our cans into the grass.

***

Yesterday I did some more nettle pulling and blackberry pruning, sweating my cobs off all the while. Today we're strimming and dropping Glyphosate...Watch this space for more Parsley and Oregano adventures!

Radio Times!

'Allotment Toimes'

2009-08-02T07:33:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was a Mancunian with bad teeth, a loud laugh and a massive barnet. He made friends with a wicked girl called Kate who worked at Thinktank, with many years worth of gardening experience. Having no idea what he was doing at least 100% of the time, the Mancunian needed a direction in his wayward life. This was to happen in a fortuitous meeting at Sainsbury's with her and Jacob. Slippery footed, the Mancunian was lead to their secret garden. Looking out as it snowed, brew in hand, the vision crystallized - months of toil to make what was already a beautiful garden (latent) into something really special. Little did Kate know how much the barnet would put into it. Looking back, I don't think anyone did. Adopting the moniker of Parsley and Oregano aka G Unit (Gardening Unit not 50 cent and his crew) - they worked from February to July on the secret garden in preparation for her and Jake's wedding .

Kate was really lucky to snag an allotment deal just before the honeymoon. Once she came back, we could start work in earnest. I was excited by the prospect of an allotment and the kudos of owning one - yet it was curious for me for two reasons. One : I barely eat vegetables. Two : I have the most minimal knowledge of landscape gardening and horticulture possible. This blog will hopefully remedy that. I am an utter greenhorn. But my heart is invested, as are my Pythons (arms).

The first day of work was Friday, just gone. Kate and her parents, Jake and I tooled up and headed out. As the photos I have attached will attest, we have a lot of work ahead of us. Kate's mum's face says it all. Nonetheless we got to it. Alan's petrol strimmer gave out after snagging a stump, so we were left with the prospect of using a scythe, which presses my buttons in an oblique way.

Instead, we used secateurs and good old fashioned Python power (see above). The previous owner had used the space as a dumping ground for countless cans and bottles of cider, which made me sad and angry by turns. The stink of old alcohol, combined with slop, mud, worms, beetles, etc was abject, but in a way it made me more determined to work. After all, nothing could top my days at Lancashire Dairies, shovelling the most Godawful mess into a skip, but that dear reader, is another story altogether.

We sat on our salvaged plastic chairs on the 'Pavillion' to have lunch and discuss just what the hell we were doing. It was, no it still is daunting. I have no doubt it will take years and years to attain greatness. But I look forward to it. Already made friends with a really sound guy called John who warned us of the wasps nest which lies in a huge clump of nettles. John has been on the allotment for four years, and has two burgeoning, beautiful plots. In fact the whole place is beautiful, serene and apart from the world I grow ever more chary of.

We pushed on, constructing a rudimentary compost bin from old palettes, stuffing it with evil nettles. I went nuts on a length of wire, pulling a tangle of it from some bushes. Kate came out with a classic : 'Have you got a license for those pythons?' Haha. Happy Allotment times. Watch this space for more Parsley and Oregano adventures.