Another View From (The Shed By) The Greenhouse……How Corrupted?

It goes without saying (but I’m going to repeat it anyway, for those tin-eared few at the back) that Labour won the election simply because the Tories had managed to make themselves un-electable and Reform, to many, had been made a “toxic brand” by the bought and paid for media. As new revelations regarding their mendacity and their disregard for the electorate become clear, even those who saw Starmer as the “second coming”, Reeves as a financial genius and Rayner as the misunderstood “working class” intellectual who life has dealt a tough hand to, might be wondering what to make of it all. Public Sector apparatchiks, multi-millionaire ex-footballers, “pop stars”, race-baiters, client journalists, media talking heads and “Green Grifters” will be fine, of course. However, those of us who simply want to live in a country that has honest politicians who know the difference between men and women, strong borders, a sensible energy policy, an impartial judicial system, policing without fear or favour and freedom from the threat of both home-grown and imported religious extremism and the terror that comes with it (I can’t be the only one to notice how emboldened a certain quasi-religious cult has recently become) then we (the silent majority) can whistle Dixie because, although it’s our taxes that support the lies and corruption, we sit at the bottom of the pile when it comes to being treated fairly. Now we find out, as if we didn’t already know, that there was a terrorist motive for the Southport attack. The gaslighting and the creation of political prisoners following this horrendous crime, when the truth was know to the authorities within days, makes me worry for all our futures. What else is being hidden from us by this thoroughly bent political machine we’ve had foisted on us?

We’ve moved the table that sat in the top left hand corner of the greenhouse, by the cold frame and set it by the nettle fertiliser butt, in perpetration for a bit of crop rotation next season. Mrs F wanted somewhere to store her outdoor potted perennials for the winter, so (for a small fee) I’ve loaned her the table. All we’re waiting for now is the buildings and maintenance department to get the quad bike and trailer out for transportation of said items. The driving of the quad bike is outside my remit (apparently), probably because I’m too old.

Three tomato plants left standing, two of the small black/yellow Cuban strain and one red cherry. They’ll be gone by the end of this week, along with the remains of the chard. I don’t think the sprouts are going to do much, but they aren’t eating anything and they sit under a joint in the roof, so they’re self watering. I’ll leave them and we’ll see what occurs.

I’m going to plant more peppers and less chilies next season. Peppers are easier to barter and all the chili plants, Cayenne, Habanero and Jalapeno have been very prolific. I have twenty in total, this year., I’ll probably cut that back to ten and maybe put in another five aubergine, the pub’s been happy to take the excess and a bartered for pint somehow tastes a little better than a paid for one.

You may recall “Ginger Gate”, but, then again, I may not even have mentioned it. Any road up, if I did (or didn’t) here’s a recap. I bought some ginger and some turmeric root, more as an experiment than anything else, although I do use both on a regular basis. I started them off in pots (two turmeric, one ginger) and, me being me, I got them mixed up when I planted them out. To cut a long story short, I put labels in the ground next to all three and waited to see what would happen. For whatever reason the “ginger” label went walkabout and the plant got demolished during a bit of over zealous weeding carried out by the buildings and maintenance department. I was a little disappointed but didn’t say too much, and consoled myself with the thought that I may end up with a decent crop of turmeric (which isn’t cheap). The two plants presented somewhat differently, but I didn’t make anything of it, although it turns out I should have.

The lost plant was the second turmeric but I didn’t discover this until, in my impatience to see what lay beneath, I dug up one of the remaining roots. It smelled like ginger and it even looked and tasted like ginger, but I’d made my mind up it wasn’t, so, although I was less than impressed with both the size and colour of the tuber, I allowed myself to believe it was turmeric. It wasn’t and now I’m hoping the remaining plant (see above) flowers and I get a crop. If I’d have realised my error I’d have left the ginger in, hoping for a more abundant crop, but it did make a couple of cups of tea and enhanced one curry, so it wasn’t a complete cock-up.

We all know about the chilli jam, but he San Marzano tomatoes lend themselves, along with leeks, a red onion, a red pepper, smoked bacon dice and a chilli, to the making of a simple tomato based sauce that works well with pasta of any kind (if you like that sort of thing). One of the great things about this particular tomato is just how easy it is to peel, a bonus when you’re making sauces. Fry the bacon in a little olive oil until cooked, add a finely diced small red onion, a crushed clove of garlic and a finely diced pepper and sweat off for a few minutes, add the leeks, a  good spoonful of tomato paste & a glass of wine (or water). Cook out the paste for a minute, add the peeled chopped tomatoes and allow to cook down without letting it dry out. Salt, pepper, a bit of sugar and some dried mixed herbs and it’s done. Simple.

Normally I’d have let some of the leeks fill out a bit over winter, something which I’ll do next year, but the buildings and maintenance team is eager to make a start on the redesigning of the outside space. The membrane’s been purchased, the bark chippings have arrived (as previously mentioned) and the four new raised beds are built. I haven’t ordered the top soil yet, but I think we’ll get it into the beds before Christmas. If we have some good cold weather it’ll (the new soil) take no harm from being frozen for a week or two. I wouldn’t say I’m overly exited about next season (I’m a bit long in the tooth for that), but I am looking forward to seeing how it all comes together and the results of the work we’re putting in.

I was going to bore you all to death by droning on incessantly about the ramifications of the (alleged) Southport terrorist atrocity, making the point that(as it’s Islamophobia Week) if Islamic terrorism didn’t exist and Islam was just another benign belief system, much like many of the thousands of other belief systems that exist in the world, then neither would “Islamophobia”. However a couple of things which came to my attention recently caused me to rethink this weeks little “rant”. Of all the charities in the UK, and again there are a great many, the one which I considered the least likely to fall prey to the “woke mind virus” and stay true to its ideals would have been The British Legion. Clearly I was wrong and this makes me both sad and disappointed. A great uncle of mine on my dads side, and two great great uncles, both on my mothers side of the family (aged 19 & 20)  perished in WW1. Ernest Firth died from wounds received in action (for which he was awarded the Military Medal) on the morning of November 11th 1918. He was 26 and had served since 1914. He’d made his will, whether prior to the action taking place or as he lay on his deathbed, leaving his estate to his mother, my great grandmother Eusebia Firth (nee Dudley). These three men were among as many as 9 million combatants who died in this conflict. Not one of them would have been singled out by bullet, bomb or bayonet because of their sexuality or “gender” choice, they died serving their countries and I believe we should continue to remember their sacrifice without demeaning it and making “Progressive” political capital from it. The first Armistice Day was held exactly one year after Ernest died, nobody cared then whether he was black, white, gay, straight or anything other than a brave young man who gave everything for his country.

“Progressive Liberalism” is a pernicious force that’s inculcating its way into all of our once proud and independent institutions. It may just be me, old fashioned and curmudgeonly as I am, but I’m insulted by those who see the ultimate expression of patriotism and loyalty as a means to promote fringe ideologies at the expense of the memories of the dead. I wear my poppy (kindly gifted to me by one of our august number) with pride, but I also wear it with a sadness, knowing that, however much it bothers me to see this most solemn of days hijacked by ideologues and self interested “talking head” activists, my views count for nothing when weighed against the prevailing “progressive” narrative. I may as well howl at the moon. Sunday past saw the 105th Armistice Day, complete with our tin-eared Prime Minister and other politicians, including the odious Tony Blair, paying silent lip service to the fallen. I don’t believe they care one jot for the sacrifices of the past, or for the lives of surviving veterans of all conflict, Blair, in particular, has some nerve. On Monday Starmer, in all his arrogant self delusion, larping as the statesman he clearly considers himself to be, visited that other preening popinjay Macron, to further mark Armistice Day. You’ve likely all all seen the video clip of the motorcade, all that was missing were the uniforms and the straight arm salutes. Let’s just say, the optics weren’t great.  Can it be possible these people have no idea of how the world views them, or is it that, in their arrogance and hubris they simply don’t care? Whatever the case, neither France, nor the UK can hope to flourish whilst their politicians grandstand for the camera instead of performing their primary duties. A pox on all their houses.
 

© Colin Cross 2024