Root & Bone: How does your garden grow?
A local resident enjoys the verdant surrounds of the Clapton Park Estate allotment. Photography: Steve Ryan
Humans always want what we can’t have, don’t we? A scarcity of gardens and balconies in London has given rise to widespread group fantasies of heirloom tomatoes, homegrown chilli peppers and personal mini herb gardens and we’ve all gone mad for allotments.
Even for those who aren’t green-fingered – who never wanted to garden when they had access to them – are now feverish with a frenzy of garden frustration. That’s why waiting lists for allotments across Britain are overloaded and why a total of over 330,000 precious plots are each out of reach for the roughly 90,000 thought to be on waiting lists [figures from the National Allotment Society.] London allotments represent a chance to have a different, better sort of life in the city. A life divorced from the grey balconies and cracked patios of our reality. A green patch to call our own, to plant our hopes, dreams and carrots in.
It’s ownership (albeit temporary) over a fertile square of this sprawling metropolis, and what you do with that square is up to you. I’m not sure your allotment neighbours would appreciate you setting up a deck chair, cracking a beer and reading the newspaper for two hours every evening all summer, but I don’t think it’s technically against the rules. (Note: depending on your tenancy agreement, this may very much be against the rules.)
Sometimes they represent networking opportunities – a chance to meet other like-minded people, have some banter over the compost, discover a shared admiration for habanero chilli pepper seedlings, a common dislike for the guy in allotment number 3 who grows nothing but naff sunflowers. That seems like good value for money – the average plot across the UK costs somewhere between £25 – £125 a year to rent. But allotments are aspirational and for the unlucky they could remain forever so – London waiting lists in particular are depressingly long. As of June 2008, the Hackney Allotment Society’s waiting lists have been frozen, due to an unprecedented media interest and public demand.
John Little, in charge of grounds maintenance on the Clapton Park Estate in East London, advises anyone desperate for their own patch of green to chat to their council with their own well- developed ideas for an allotment, rather than join an already congested waiting list.
“Councils are more open than ever before to doing interesting things with their unused green spaces,” says John, who’s been running the Grass Roof Company for 18 years. “It’s trendy now and everyone’s into growing their own herbs and vegetables. If you can present your council with a plan that makes sense, with a budget worked out, that won’t cost huge amounts to maintain, chances are they may be interested in working with you on it.” (or give you advice on funding sources).
That’s good news, because according to the Royal Horticultural Society, almost 90 per cent of 16 to 24-year- olds in Britain now have a garden or allotment or raise their own flowers and vegetables on balconies. The National Allotment Society (NAS) claims that in an attempt to shorten waiting lists that are often years long, local housing authorities across the country are slicing existing allotments in half to make more room.
But local councils are beginning to realise the value of letting local residents and tenants grow plants and flowers, rather than just fencing off the area and paying contractors to keep it mowed, tidy and boring. Colourful, timber-bordered plots – some tidy, some anything but – are becoming hubs for otherwise insular London neighbourhoods, providing a meeting place and a reason for people (and their children) to spend more time outdoors talking to each other.
Allotments can also be an expression of ethnic heritage here in the city. It’s a chance for residents of all cultural backgrounds to grow the herbs and vegetables they might not easily find in their local Sainsburys, which is why you’ll find lemongrass stalks and the spear-head shaped leaves of turmeric growing alongside the more indigenous parsley and thyme.
The waiting list situation is frustrating, but it’s still a good sign of the renewed interest in eating what we grow with our own hands here in Britain. The kale may look pale and the carrots withered, but it never tastes so good as it does from your own patch of land. Devise a clever plan to entice your council into letting you have your wicked way with the local green space, chance your arm, and you too could find yourself up to your elbows in soil someday soon.
