August 4, 2010 · 10:11 pm

Would your absence be noticed?

I’D love to show you a photo of the first ever tomato to make it to full redness at the allotment, but Baby Bonnie picked it and took a bite before I got to her.

Rather disconcertingly, she then spat it out and handed it to me. And she LOVES tomatoes.

A little worried, I tried it, and couldn’t find anything wrong. Perhaps it tasted too much of tomato. There are loads more just changing colour on my solitary bush tomato, and it just proves that despite previously killing toms at the allotment, they can actually grow there, with even having to be netted.

Apart from the tomatoes, It was lovely to visit the allotment last week, because on my previous visit I was concerned the season was over for me, bar the shouting.

Suddenly everything is ready to eat, despite what certainly feels like the driest summer in years.

A gap of three days since my last potter and the courgettes have turned from tiny half-finger-long veg-lets into marrows. Lots of them.

The kids were digging carrots that were the longest we’ve ever managed in our solid clay soil. Yet more beetroot, spring onions, potatoes, raspberries, far too many beans (they still came through) and onions. The sweetcorn is coming along nicely, and I have a pumpkin plant starting to fruit. At home, there are more tomatoes and the first of a promising-looking mini-cucumber crop.

Now the problem is keeping it going when we go away on our holidays. My attendance is somewhat random at the best of times. How will the plot, and home garden, survive?

In recent years it hasn’t been a problem: it rains.

Usually the problem is coming home to find the weeds have taken over. This year, we desperately NEED rain. And this is coming from someone who is going camping!

What I’d really like is for it to rain heavily every night, just over Northampton, while we’re away. But more realistically, I’ll water and water as much as possible and cover the planting holes of the courgettes and tomatoes with muck and straw to try and hold in moisture while we’re away. Alternatively, you may be able to persuade a friend or relative to water every other day, or fit a drip irrigation scheme with a timer on the tap. I’m too disorganised to have done either.

It was also a pleasure to visit the allotment with all the kids. Our eldest doesn’t have to come after school by virtue of being on the other side of town. It was nice to see how chuffed he was to find the seeds he’d sown in a raised bed back in May had turned into carrots, beetroot, spring onions, coriander and dwarf sunflowers.

He’s also a good forager (scrumping is banned). He came back with blackberries, plums and gooseberries, all growing along the hedgerows (I made him show me).

Foraging is a neglected art. There’s plenty of fruit growing along hedges, footpaths and on derelict land, as long as you’re sure you aren’t trespassing and you know what you’re picking!

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July 29, 2010 · 9:41 am

I am a smug mother

 

I HAVE to hold my hands up and be an utterly smug mother: Dougie got the ‘Churchill’ leadership prize on his last day at primary school. Shared with his good friend and all-round top lad Tyrell Bernard.

At home, Doug is fairly typical second-born: fiercely determined to make sure everything is ‘fair’ but also quite happy most of the time to let his older brother get into trouble first while he pootles around with his head in the clouds. But at school, this year he’s matured enormously.

I was bursting with pride (and a little moist-eyed) when they called his name out to go up and take hold of the trophy – a ceramic statue of the war-time leader – and terrified he would drop it.

You tend to think the really noticeable changes in your children happen in the early, crawling,walking, talking years. When they get to the ‘tweens’ they might not change much physically – they get taller, fill-out, smell more – but basically have all the practical human characteristics to take them through the rest of their lives.

But in their brains, it’s all going bonkers. Hormones, being the eldest in school, seeing the opposite sex in a new light, it’s scary stuff.

Somehow, Doug has embraced all of these changes and the absence of his older brother with relish. Brothers as close in age as Jed and Dougie have the benefits of a constant companion, but also need to retain their individuality.

I can’t quite believe my cuddly, thumb-sucking little boy is getting all grown-up. (Actually, he does still suck his thumb when he thinks no-one is looking. . .)

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July 28, 2010 · 9:36 am

A dog, in a hat, on a bike. Singing.

 

WE had a great day on Sunday, just by going to the park. We saw one of the most surreal things I’ve ever encountered.

Yes, we’ve been to Abington Park, in Northampton, hundreds of times. If you get time this holiday, I’d recommend it. And it’s free.

We’ve had picnics before, bought an ice-cream from the Park cafe, listened to a brass band play on a sunny Sunday, visited the birds in the aviary, looked around the museum, played football, wandered around the rose garden and fed the ducks.

But never, in all my years, have I seen the dog on a trike.

The boys were very casual. I asked what they were peering at through the trees. They answered: “A dog on a trike.” Naturally, I thought they were joking.

I blame Bloke. I’m so used to his surreal statements that I am instantly sceptical and dismissive of anything that sounds a little odd. Like, “Oh look, there’s a dog on a bike.”

But they explained further. It was a blue dog, actually RIDING the trike, unsupervised.

“Shush kids, enough now, this is silly and you shouldn’t tell fibs.”

Then I saw it. A blue dog, wearing a bowler hat, riding a trike. Singing “Who let the dogs out.” With no sign of anyone controlling it remotely.

The Chron actually came up with the answer: He was a remote controlled robot dog owned by a local who hires him out. His roaming was controlled by a headset from a distance. Brilliant!

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July 28, 2010 · 6:00 am

Aloft, in the loft, sits. . .camping stuff

  WELL, here we go then. We’ve got to entertain our kids for six weeks. It’s the holidays.

Actually, it’s five and a half weeks for some. And the next fortnight must be the quietest on local roads, as just about everyone with children will be off.

So what do we do with them? In the current economic climate, do you do two weeks in Spain? Visit the relatives? Or just stay at home and do over-priced day-trips?

At some point we’re going camping (which I hate) in our decrepit campervan (which I hate slightly less). Not only do I have to do the dreaded clothes packing for six, but there’s all the camping kit too.

Bloke is putting it off, because he knows he’s got to face The Loft.

The loft, in our house, is actually a big cupboard with poor lighting which is stuffed to the brim with. . .well. . .stuff.

Somewhere under the piles of empty boxes, broken computer parts, outgrown baby items, a dismantled kitchen table and the Christmas tree, is an enormous tent/awning, several inflatable mattresses, a camping kitchen, burners, lamps, sleeping bags and a folding table.

We aren’t organised. The stuff will have all the muck and mould from being packed away last year. Our dread of The Loft will mean we won’t have time to check, and it will be just thrown in the back of the van along with too much luggage, too much baby stuff and too many kids.

Then we’ll get there, unpack it all, have a lovely-albeit-wet-when-it-inevitably-rains time, pack it all back up again and head home. Where we’ll end up shoving it all back in the loft.

I think the next few days had better be spent having a loft clear-out, welly-trying session and round-up of waterproofs. Oh, and someone needs to dig through the shed to find the camping toilet/bucket with a lid. There you go kids, who says the school holidays aren’t fun?

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July 26, 2010 · 2:09 pm

Stabbing and jabbing

IT was after I managed to stab my shin with a broken bamboo cane for the third time in a week when I decided it was time for a tetanus jab.

Slicing though my left index finger with secateurs didn’t help. The bruising hurt more than the wound, but the soil that disappeared under my skin was more worrying.

I bet many of you gardeners haven’t had a tetanus jab since school. I had one 11 years ago, after having Dougie, according to my doctor’s notes, and they are supposed to last ten years. If you haven’t had one that you can remember, it may be worth a visit to the nurse for a booster.

Tetanus is one of those conditions that you think has been eradicated. It hasn’t.

The tetanus bacteria usually enter the body through a cut in the skin. Once inside, the bacteria multiply and release a neurotoxin (poison) called tetanospasmin, which causes the symptoms of tetanus to develop.

Tetanospasmin can spread through the bloodstream, blocking the nerve signals from the spinal cord to the muscles. This causes muscle spasms and rigidity throughout the body, particularly in the neck, face, and jaw (known as lockjaw).

For a tetanus infection, the incubation period (the time between getting the infection and the onset of symptoms) is between 4-21 days. The average incubation time is 10 days.

A tetanus infection must be treated quickly because, left untreated, the condition can be fatal. Tetanus cannot be passed from person to person.

The bacterium is mostly common in soil and manure, which makes it a pretty scary thing for the gardener. But there are less than 10 reported cases a year, thanks to the immunisation of babies for several decades. Those most at risk are over 65, who didn’t get the jab as babies. I was given a combined jab, upper arm, which includes a diptheria and polio booster. Slight swelling a couple of days later, nothing more.

Now I can stab myself with sticks to my hearts content.

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July 26, 2010 · 12:22 pm

She looked down the slippery slope towards winter

LAST week before school holidays = last chance for un-interuppted gardening. So I spent hours last Tuesday blitzing the allotment.

Up came all my onions, which had keeled over and are drying quite nicely, and most of the shallots. The dried-up pea plants were cut off and the roots dug into the soil.

Weeded quite a lot, especially the tall dandelion-like sowthistle and groundsel, which have taken over my allotment and given a home to many, many yellow and black striped caterpillars of the cinnabar moth.

I’ve rather speculatively put in a row of very chitted seed potatoes with were forgotten on a windowsill, in the hope we have an autumn that’s warm enough to keep them alive for a late crop. I’m having another bash at sowing some kale, under cover, as my previous seedlings got shredded by the flea beetles when sown direct.

Still surviving and starting to fruit beautifully are the ever-reliable courgettes, some bush tomatoes, sweetcorn and beans. The roots, including carrots, beetroot and parsnips are looking good despite the lack of rain and the spuds are blight-free – so far.

My salad leaves bolted in the heat but overall, 2010 has been pretty fruitful considering the warm weather. I’m already planning for next year. . .

cinnebar moth catapillars

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July 22, 2010 · 6:00 pm

By heck Grommet(s)!

BILLY has finally got his hospital appointment to have grommets fitted. *Shudders.

It’s been a on-going problem, as previous detailed in these pages. Six-year old Bill can be very shouty. The consultant ear-docs and audiologists finally persuaded me that it’s just gone on too long to keep ‘waiting and seeing’ if he’ll literally grow out of it.

His glue ear, a very common problem in young children, could be fixed now by having tiny tubes called grommets surgically inserted into his lug-holes under general anaesthetic.

Now, I’m not unduly worried about the operation, but the thought of watching my baby go under anaesthetic makes me want to weep. Already. But not in front of him. I am cheerful and matter-of-fact in my smiley explanations to him about his ear-op, and the subsequent antibiotics and cotton wool plugs at bath-time to prevent infection.

My friends who have already been through worse hospital operations with their kids tell me it will be fine, and that I’m being a wuss.

Doesn’t stop me stressing though, to the point where I’m buying weird nose balloon contraptions on the internet to try and fix it without the GA. I’ll keep you posted. . .

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July 22, 2010 · 9:00 am

She sets off alarm bells

 SOLVED a great mystery this week. For months and months, every time I walked into and out of a shop the security alarms would go off.

Actually, sometimes they’d go off going in and not going out. I felt like a reverse shop-lifter. A shop-dropper, perhaps.

Many security guards have rummaged my bags. Many more have waved me on after seeing the fury and indignation on my face. I was convinced it had something to do with metal pins in my knee after surgery 20 years ago.

Then one very nice lady in a shoe shop, on hearing how often it was happening, offered to let me walk in and and out with various items, to see if the alarms went off, as a process of elimination. We tried the nappy bag, just me, wearing coat, without coat, with purse, buggy and so on, until we found the culprit. My Filofax. A leather Filofax. No security tags or labels anywhere in it visible to the naked eye. A Filofax I was bought for Christmas. Well, at least I hope it was bought. . .

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July 21, 2010 · 9:46 am

Where’s your Daddeee gone?

GETTING my Bloke back this week, for a fortnight anyway. He’s been working in Edinburgh for the past couple of months and so we’ve only had him home for weekends.

It’s been a bit like being a single mum, without the emotional trauma and reduction in income.

Or a Forces wife, without the anguish and concern for his safety. I do worry, every Monday and Friday, when he’s getting on trains and planes. Not quite the same as worrying about him stepping on an Improvised Explosive Device or shot by friendly fire.

Being on your own with four kids is fun but knackering. It’s also pretty lonely. You miss having someone to talk to, and you can’t really go out on your own. I can never really justify the cost of a babysitter just for me.

The last few months without Bloke have been weird for us all. Our eldest said he was seeing less of his Dad than his friends whose parents were divorced, but without the extra presents. The novelty of living in hotels wore off for Bloke after about a fortnight.

The most annoying thing for me is having to put the bins out. I might cope with all the rest but it’s HIS job. And he does it with ruthless Man efficiency.

I wake up at 2am when I finally remember they need doing, clatter around the house collecting what needs to be put out and shuffle out into the street in my dressing-gown, clutching smelly black bags and cursing under my breath.

At least we’re all back together for the next fortnight. Bin duty reinstated. Someone to yak to about everything and nothing. Order restored.

He’ll be desperate to get back to work.

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July 20, 2010 · 9:09 am

Eat my pretties! Eat!

blackfly on runner beans. Grr!

FINALLY, some rain. Stop moaning, it had to happen, since I spent a morning in the drizzle at the allotment lugging watering cans about. It was virtually a rain-dance.

The plot looks rather sorry for itself. After a disappointing start with many plant simply dying off, I have managed to get a few runner bean plants into flower but they are covered in blackfly.

If this is your first year growing runner beans, don’t despair and write yourself off. It’s not you.

Runners are usually one of the easiest crops and they look lovely in the flower border too, climbing clematis and other plants whose flowers may have finished. They (usually) produce lots of beans with virtually no effort from you, other than a nice trench of muck or kitchen waste when you plant them out and plenty of water in dry weather.

I’ve never had problems with beans before. I’m hoping it’s just been the dry weather. I don’t use insecticides and there are too many to rub off with finger tips. However, just as I was going to write off this year’s crop, I spotted a ladybird, then another. Closer inspection showed there were 14 ladybirds on one wigwam alone. Hurrah!

Ladybirds love aphids of any kind. They scoff them and lay their larvae on them who scoff even more. I’m leaving it all in their capable jaws.

If you spot a funny-looking bug on your plants that is black with front arms and yellow stripes on its sides, which looks absolutely nothing like a ladybird, DON’T kill it. This is what a baby ladybird looks like, and it will be your ally in the fight against aphids of all colours.

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