Tending an allotment is seriously fashionable these days but setting your heart on obtaining one wont necessarily mean you instantly get what you wish for. It all depends where you live and how many allotments there are in your area. The Forest of Dean, where I am, doesn’t have any council owned plots at all, as they were all dispensed with after the second world war and what allotments now exist come under the jurisdiction of various local parish councils.
My friend Deborah, who lives in London, was on the waiting list for an allotment for 18 years. After coming across the original letter from the council confirming her application she decided to chase things up and eighteen months ago was at last offered a plot on a site that runs along the edge of Hampstead Heath. Deborah isn’t a person satisfied to simply dig over the earth and plant a few seeds. In the short time since taking the allotment on, a rough unkempt plot has been transformed and landscaped with raised beds, paths and arches using reclaimed and recycled materials. Whatever she does is art.

In London for a couple of days, I had Sunday morning free to pop down to the allotment to see how things were progressing whilst Deborah gathered homegrown ingredients for lunch. During the previous week, an impressive new cold frame has been built, seeds have been sown and vegetable seedlings started off in pots have been planted out.

Last year Mick, from the plot next door, gave Deborah a rhubarb crown, substantial enough that it is already producing some stems that can be harvested. You should normally allow a few years for newly planted rhubarb to become established before picking. An upturned dustbin placed over part of it to starve the stems of light, revealed an armful of lovely sweet stems, beautifully pink with lime green leaves, when lifted away. Just enough to feed everyone for lunch. That was pudding sorted.

At long last the sun is beating down and things in the garden are starting to grow. Everything has been at a standstill for the last 4 weeks or so and this change in the weather is just what’s needed to kick start the seedlings from infancy on to their adolescent stage. The peas have begun to twine around their supports, the first tomato is starting to swell on the vine and the blueberries are filling out with the first hint of blue.

The tomato terrace is coming along nicely, thank you, and so far I am growing 8 different tomato varieties including a white tomato which I found at a farmers market in Bristol the other day. I love unusual things but I have to admit that a white tomato is getting pretty weird even for me. A tomato, basil and mozzarella salad made with this ‘White Beauty’ variety could no longer be called ‘tricolore’. I am still on the look out for a green tomato that is green even when completely ripe and am intrigued to know what colour it would be in its unripened state. Presumably at the end of the season you would need to leave them on the window sill to ripen and turn from green to …. green.
Anyhow, who cares. It’s summer at last, and that’s official.

Calling a blog ‘laundryetc’ I suppose there is a danger that readers will expect laundry tips and advice. That is not in fact my intention (though ‘never say never’ in case some uplifting snippet of household lore comes my way). I feel that cliched path is already well trodden. ‘Laundry’ for me is not so literal, it is more about what is blowing in the breeze than what is requiring attention in the utility room. Those house cleaning programmes on TV fronted by bossy matriarchs are not for me.

Since moving to the country last year after many years living in London some very fundamental things have changed in my life. I’m less likely to eat out and more likely to cook something fresh and seasonal. I’ve rediscovered and am reusing kitchen gadgets and machinery that I had forgotten I had. I’ve always loved baking but had got out of the habit. Preserving things in season has become a consuming passion. I have intensive sourdough bread weeks trying to achieve results similar to the artisan breads sold in the smart London delis I was used to frequenting. Of course I can buy posh loaves just down the road from here, you don’t have to live in London for such things (though when you live in SW2 you don’t realise that) but now I have the incentive to take the good life to another level because I’ve always been interested in making things and at the end of the day it is just so satisfying.

My old solid-fuel Rayburn is not the most glamorous example around but it came free from an old lady in the village who had reluctantly decided that her coal lugging days were over. The enamel is chipped and a little bit more falls off every time the door bangs shut, the flue snakes across the wall as the oven is on the wrong side for the position of the chimney and it is simple boring white not a fabulous colour like the newer models, but who cares, it is wonderful all the same. Concerned that burning solid fuel makes a carbon footprint the size of elephants feet I am trying to use every scrap of energy it generates to heat the water, heat the house, dry my laundry and slow cook casseroles.

I started my vegetable garden last spring so that is relatively new beginnings as I am only one season in. The plan is to build a brick oven out there as well to cook my sourdough bread in as well as the produce from the garden. I hope to show how these plans progress.
So what will this blog be about? Well all of the above really. I love things and ideas that upend the cliche, the colourful and unusual as well as being a research obsessive.

Anyhow, let’s see how things develop……

ROLAND – ONE OF THE LAUNDRY CATS