Latest

Mushy tomatoes and old French ladies

Latest Sunday Telegraph column here. I’m now safely home, tomato seeds stuck between kitchen paper  in a bottom drawer. Chances of forgetting what they are at some stage between now and next March and throwing them all in the bin? About 90 per cent I think. Oh, and please forgive the final repetitive paragraph – being a holiday-addled idiot I pressed send on the email before checking for errant copy… doh.

Elspeth Thompson

elspeth

I am so shocked and sad to hear that Elspeth Thompson, the marvellous gardening writer, has died. She was a real inspiration to me, my ‘horti-guru’, not only for her work – the books about growing plants in inner-city London and her elegantly observed blog about turning railways carriages into a house on the south coast – but for her kindness and the graciousness with which she approached life. As fellow Sunday Telegraph columnists we would meet at gardening events and email each other with tips and garden gossip – from chewing over the identity of the mysterious blogger Garden Monkey to laughing about the £2 potted carrot we saw for sale at a prestigious London nursery. I will always remember her kindness, encouragement and generosity, her elegant prose and her ability to make you see beauty even in the most ordinary places. My thoughts are with her husband and young daughter at this awful time.

Latest News

Here’s my latest Growing Pains column for The Sunday Telegraph published last week – Petit Filous pots and why you can’t grow cheese. Another one will be coming out this Sunday, March 28.

The Girl’s Guide to Growing Your Own was serialised in March 2010’s  Tesco magazine. See below.tesco

New Girl’s Guide review from the US: I’ve never heard of these people before, but obviously, now I love them.

theguidecoverMarch 2010’s The Guide magazine features an interview with me here















feb2010My musings from Aalsmeer, the biggest flower auction in the world, in February 2010’s Easyjet Traveller magazine

It’s before seven in the morning and I’m standing on a metal catwalk looking down on what looks like an explosion in a paint shop.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Latest reviews for The Girl’s Guide to Growing Your Own

Loving Tim Richardson’s description of The Girl’s Guide in The Daily Telegraph as ‘chick-veg-lit‘ Also charming one from my horti-guru Elspeth Thompson in The Sunday Telegraph in her Christmas 2009 books round-up, The Sunday Times in their best Christmas books list and another nice one from ‘the stylish gardening blog’ Fennel and Fern.

Why I wrote The Girl’s Guide to Growing Your Own, The Sunday Telegraph, November 2009

A 30-minute planting recipe for a spicy salad box for winter, The Sunday Telegraph, November 2009

Emma Townshend from The Independent on Sunday came round for lunch, to see the garden and to talk about The Girl’s Guide to Growing Your Own. This is what she wrote…

February tips

whiterosespring

Oh the relief, it’s February! The bleak mid winter is officially over and, as we head into a cold, but mercifully short month, the first glimmerings of spring seem, on a good clear day, within reach (on a cloudy day, it’s still all you can do not to hitchike to Heathrow and force yourself on a plane to Miami).

To the gardener, this means that the collection of scruffy cardboard and empty plastic food containers you’ve been hoarding Gollum-like under the stairs can finally be employed as seed-sowing receptacles. Yes, you can finally clutter all available surfaces with soil again – the joy.

This year I’m all about thrift – no more expensive and fancy online purchases of contrived-distressed pots, clocks, candles and obelisks, not to mention seed-sowing mats, and propagators with twiddly bits. This year, if I haven’t had to wash it out first, I’m not interested.

A couple of takeaway latte cups are now growing chives – particularly pleased with their integral lid that will keep the seeds nice and cosy until they germinate –  and an old Persil washing tablets container (painted with Farrow and Ball Clunch, of course, I’m not embracing junk quite that readily) is about to sprout forth with Sweet Genovese basil. Clear plastic fruit punnets make  the perfect mini propagator  for lettuce seedlings – plus it makes you feel less guilty about the grapes that flew thousands of miles in them in the first place.

The local deli has been more than keen to get rid of its plywood crates – once they’d worked out why this loon was so keen on their rubbish – and when those enormous olive oil tins on their top shelf are empty, they’re mine, so don’t even think about it. Recycling, people, I know I’m late on this one, but finally I’m catching up.

Of course, this now means that I can’t look at any object now without mentally working out its suitability for plant-growing. Kitchen colanders, bread bins, dustbins and the Ikea storage boxes stuffed with kids’ toys – perfect to make a self-watering container from surely? – have all been jealously eyed whether they still have a useful function or not.

If my garden doesn’t look like a fly-tipped layby by June I’ll consider it failure.

btw, I know that picture, above, isn’t of February but May last year, but do you really want to see a photo of a coffee cup? Didn’t think so…

_________________________________________________________

Seeds to sow now on a windowsill in an old fruit container, latte cup or, ok, plant pot – you’re so 2009

  • Lettuce – great for the winter-phobe because it germinates in about 3 days. I’m growing and harvesting this inside for a quick early-spring crop.
  • Chives – to pop in the ground outside in March
  • Basil – bit early, I know, but my March-sown basil never seems to get fully into its stride so this is an experiment.
  • Tomatoes, chillis, aubergine and sweet peppers if you have a heated greenhouse to grow them on in – I don’t so these can wait until March
  • Radishes
  • Salad rocket (not wild rocket, wrong time), Mustards, Mizuna and Mibuna – sow now inside for quick spring salads
  • Oh, and you can start chitting your potatoes if you do that…

Wrap it up or start again – November in the edible garden (with Worzel Gummidge figs)

grapes

The last grapes of the season, wonderful either squished into juice or popped out of their skins and fired into the mouth of my one-year-old son – like feeding a ravenous baby bird. But who are we kidding? Autumn, and harvest time are nearly over, though if you’re growing chillis you may still have something to do…

chillis

Chilli peppers should be traffic-stoppingly red by now. Either eat them all at once, in which case, remind me never to come round to your house for dinner, or get all crafty and impressive with thread and a needle. I’m not usually one for a craft project, ever since an unfortunate incident with a wrap-around skirt in needlework in the lower fourth (‘This is the worst day of my life,’ the teacher actually said), but try this, it’s really easy and looks fantastic.

Simply cut off all your chillis then thread a needle and pierce each chilli near the top (below the green bit though).

piercing

Keep going with all the chillis until you get a lovely string of them. Hang up in the kitchen and accept admiring comments from visitors.

lineemup

But however much one wants to pretend otherwise, winter is coming, as ever bringing out my siege mentality. It’s time to batten down the hatches in the garden, cover the precious and feeble with fleece, straw and bubble wrap plastic – ie make your garden look like a recently fly-tipped layby. But the alternative could be plant casualties of a very upsetting order, especially if this winter is as Arctic as the last one. As Orange Juice nearly said, ‘Wrap it up or start again.’ But come on, it’s worth it when you could be having a bumper harvest of fragrant soft figs and globe artichokes next summer, not to mention crunchy salad over the winter months.  Isn’t it?

This year I’ve gone for a rather Worzel Gummidge-style approach to protecting my two potted Brown Turkey fig trees. I’m erring on the side of caution since am fed up with seeing my figs shrivel and drop off – presumably frosted to oblivion as tiny figlets over winter.  Last summer I enjoyed a grand total of one July fig (savoured while standing next to the tree with an expression of near religious ecstasy, naturally), and two October ripened ones. So this year, I’m raising my game. Not only am I draping the trees with fleece as usual, but also protecting the growing shoots where the teeny baby figlets are (squint and you’ll see them) with bunches of straw tied nice and tight.

spectralfig

The tree now looks like a scarecrow with multiple straw hands, seen through an eerie white gossamer of horticultural fleece. Spooky, it is. Attractive, I can safely say, it is not. But needs must. If I don’t get a decent crop next year after all that, then I shall consider figs in a British climate as just not being very worth growing at all. So the stakes are high, my friends.

It goes without saying that citrus trees must also be protected by now. Unfortunately, my orangery is being renovated so I a forced to plebbily cover my Lemon Meyer with a fleece jacket and hope for the best for its little lemon babies. If your citrus tree is light enough to move, you might want to put it in an unheated greenhouse or, even better, a cool conservatory.

Meanwhile, I’ve been blanching endive like a proper French person. It’s pretty much my only salad crop to have survived the mega slug onslaught of London SE10, presumably because not even slugs like it. But putting pots on top of it and blocking out the holes should turn the leaves white and less palate-stripping bitter – or at least that’s the idea. I’m thinking plenty of lardons and a creamy mustardy dressing…

endive

I’ve also been wrapping my prized globe artichoke in a tiny picket fence-like sleeve and stuffing it with straw. You may think the picket fence (ok, a hastily customised bamboo screen) a bit over the top, but how else does one stop straw blowing all over the garden at the slightest breeze?

artichoke

OTHER THINGS TO DO IN NOVEMBER

Put out traps for slugs – I use ramekins filled with beer pushed into the ground and dotted in among the winter salad. It’s so satisfying when you find one filled with the little horrors – just throw the bodies in an out-of-the-way place and refill.

Prune blackcurrants, cutting the darker (ie old) stems off right at the base. You can also prune red and whitecurrants around now, cutting back the main stems by about half. Sideshoots coming from these main branches should be cut back to one bud.

Protect peach trees with a polythene screen to avoid getting the dreaded peach leaf curl, a disease that has afflicted my Peregrine tree for two years running. Result: no peaches. Nil. Zilch. Niente. My response to this is very mature. Rather than get all DIY with timber battens and polythene – a prospect that renders me weak with horror – I ‘m going to pull up the tree and replace it with the new ready-trained fan one I have ordered from Blackmoor nurseries. It’s called Avalon Pride, and is apparently  resistant to peach leaf curl. The proof will be in the, er, producing of peaches next year. Watch this space.

There’s a greenhouse and then there’s… this

petersham greenhouse

I’d love to say this is my greenhouse, but it’s of course that west London den of horticultural chicdom Petersham Nurseries. I was there on Saturday morning to lead a Grow Your Own Veg Gardening Clinic – which, thankfully, despite its name didn’t involve latex gloves or surprising rashes. if you squint you can see me babbling and slightly ruining the earth floor-mismatched garden chair degagee scene.
display

The crowd were lovely – keen gardeners one and all – and I hope I was vaguely useful to them. Lots of questions about how to get rid of slugs, snails and cats, those nemeses of the urban gardener. Also how to ripen green tomatoes and how to grow potatoes in containers. I can’t think of a nicer place to be on a rainy Saturday autumn morning.
petershamme

Afterwards I was given a lovely personal tour of the gardens by Petersham Nurseries owner Francesco Boglione. Particularly interested to see their fab veg garden, complete with chickens and yet more gorgeous greenhouses, just completed but made entirely from reclaimed materials so positively groaning with charm. One day my part brick, part glazed, vents opening in the roof greenhouse will come. Until then, it’s back to Greenwich and my 6 foot by 4 foot aluminium beast.

blackboard

Petersham, posh wellies and me

love

I had a great time at Petersham Nurseries last night talking to a charming crowd of Richmond ladies (I think I spotted a couple of men but they were very much a rare species) about The Girl’s Guide to Growing Your Own . Afterwards there was wine, smoked meats and crunchy radishes, carrots and other veg from their gardens dipped into toothsome aioli. Everyone seemed to have a lovely time, no one threw rotten tomatoes at me and I signed a fair few books so result all round.

I am so in love with Petersham Nurseries it’s a bit tragic – it’s a miracle I managed to leave without buying my body weight in beaded cushions, candles and those posh wellies with laces up the front that I always lust after but could never afford. Still, I’m not out of the woods yet – I’m back there on the 24th to lead a Grow Your Own Veg Clinic – I have a feeling I won’t be leaving empty handed that time…