A View From (The Shed By) The Greenhouse; Who’s The Puppet, Who’s The Puppeteer?

Why on earth would anyone cut a discarded length of plastic water pipe into (very roughly) two inch lengths, may or may not be the first question that springs to the mind of my long suffering loyal reader.However, the answer’s simple. Struggling to get pea seed to germinate and also having a plan for the pea plot which was based on said germination having taken place (more of which later) I hatched a plan. Finding the pipe was fortuitous but it took no looking for. As I’ve mentioned in the past very little gets thrown away on the old farmstead, based on the “it might come in handy one day” theory. The actual history of this particular length of pipe is lost in the mists of time, although it’s most likely to be an off-cut from when we built the house, meaning it’s laid about, not necessarily in the same spot, for around 15 years, waiting for its “come in handy” moment. Resilient stuff, is alkathene.

After what’s seemed like an age, the potato plot’s finally dried out enough to allow me to be able to get back to planting three more stitches. I’ve gone for two of earlies, Charlotte and International Kidney (some Jersey Royals are this breed) and one main-crop, namely Maris Piper. All three should be in prime condition for the village show, which is on the 1st of August this year. I should be alright for potatoes, but whether or not I have any tomatoes (or anything else for that matter) to show remains in the lap of the gods. A late start, a cold spell and the earlier (show) date than usual all conspire against me!

Burt’s moved from the other side of the path, where he was a little hidden from the few people who pass by the plot on a day to day basis. He not only wanted to be more accessible, but he thought he might get the opportunity to witness a car or two go axle deep into one of the increasingly deep potholes along the lane. No need to worry, he isn’t in the process of “transition” but he has been trying to develop his pecs, somewhat. One or two of the neighbours think he might have overdone it a bit and even mentioned it to me, but where Burt’s concerned there are no half measures. In this position he also gets to overlook the (so far) embryonic pea plot, making sure the pigeons keep well away!

A quick shot, somehow in sepia, of the onion and carrot bed, now accompanied by the first row of leeks (pot germinated) and two rows of directly planted seeds. A fourth row of pot germinate will join them in the fullness of time, the carrots, meanwhile are doing well and will be ready for a thinning out quite soon. A fourth row of carrots will also be planted. As can be (just) seen in the next bed along, both the early planted swede and kohl-rabi are showing decent signs of growth. Another thinning out project to pencil into the diary.

Peas, although quite robust plants aren’t very deep rooted (in my experience) which makes them a bugger to keep weed free, as there’s always a danger of disturbing the delicate root, especially if, like me, you’re a bit rough with the weeding part. Why not put down some terram, I thought and cut holes in it big enough to plant seedlings into, thereby (hopefully) keeping the weed to a minimum. It might have worked had more than a couple of peas germinated, although the fact that a couple had gave me both hope and the germ of an idea. This is where the alkathene comes in. I pegged down the membrane and erected the plant supports before carefully cutting into it. I used the end of an old broom handle to make the holes, before inserting the short lengths of pipe and packing them with enriched compost.

Once I’d got the pipes nice and tightly packed (I’d gone about three inches down with the holes to make sure there was some early nourishment for the young plants) I simply pressed a seed down into each one, saying a little prayer as I did so. There’s little evidence yet that it’s going to be a success, but both Burt and I remain optimistic. The B&M department think it’s a bit of a faff, but then weeding peas doesn’t fall (generally) under their remit.

Having gone through several gallons of nettle “juice” and given that, at least where I live and although getting edible plants to grow is always a challenge, nettles don’t seem to have the same problem the time seemed right to fully decant the outside, full strength tub into the butt and dilute it down, giving me the opportunity to get a new batch on the go. A few banana skins went in there, for a bit of added potassium and I added a pint of liquid seaweed to the diluted end product. I’ll just decant and top up during the summer and see where we are come October(ish).

Although I’ve been guilty of a bit of panic over-watering (it isn’t the first time), which has led to the demise of a cucumber which rotted off at the point the stem met the compost, the cold frame nursery’s starting to do its job. I’m planning to commence planting out during this next week and I’m contemplating mixing chillies and peppers in with the tomatoes, rather than having the more regimented layout I generally employ. There are butternut squash, cabbages and corn alongside the many toms. An eclectic mix of crops to look forward to.

After all the brouhaha the strawberries, both the newly acquired (which I had my concerns about) and the older strains seem to be doing really well, with and abundance of fruit several of which are close to ripening. I’m going to be a little more careful with the runners this year and try to nurture some new stock through the winter, as well as hopefully making sure most of this years get through the winter a bit better than they did last year. I think they might end up in the shed, or at least in the cold frame, this time with some water to keep them alive!

In sheer frustration I scattered some chili and pepper seeds, not even taking note of the varieties as I did do, in a bit of compost alongside the lettuce patch. Try as I might, I hadn’t been able to get anything going in this department and I actually got a friend (more on this next time) to see if he could get hold of some plants if he came across any on his travels. I’d put an old propagator top over them and thought little more about it, until I lifted it and came across fifteen what seem to be viable seedlings (unless they’re weeds). Happy Days!

SCENE;

A man sits at a desk in an opulent office somewhere in Whitehall. Although only in his early sixties, his face is lined and careworn and his brow is furrowed. His, until quite recently, thick dark hair is prematurely greying and showing signs of receding. His elbows are on the desk, his palms cupping his temples as if reflecting on some of his life choices, or even what, if any of lifes choices there were left for him to make. A muffled buzzing disturbs his reverie and, somewhat startled, he opens a drawer in the desk to reveal several telephones, one of which is flashing with an incoming call. The startled expression becomes more troubled, as if he knows who’s calling him;

“Hello”.

“Hi, it’s me, I thought we’d better have a catch up, given the somewhat disastrous recent turn of events”.

“Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you something like this might happen, I mean..”.

The person on the other end cuts him off, abruptly.

“There’s no time for that now, we all knew how risky the Ambassadorship gambit was, we just didn’t realise quite what the knock on effect would be, although you’ve hardly made the best of what turned out to be a poor error of judgment”.

It wasn’t my error of judgment, he thought, but kept the words in his head. He knew better than to crticise or argue the point.

“Look, even given what’s happened over the last couple of days, we’re still on track to get the job done. I know you’re fighting an uphill battle to keep the party onside, but I can categorically assure you that although one or two of the natives might be getting restless, those who really matter have your back as, more importantly, do we”.

For now, the man thought but again kept his thoughts to himself.

“You know the drill by now”, the caller continued, “you’ll need to make another speech of course, using all the buzz words and slogans you normally employ, but now isn’t the time to back off. Tell the people about your vision, give Reform, that Tommy Robinson fellow and the far-right a bit of a bashing, tell the nation that it’s future lies in its young people and how closer ties with the EU will bring them a Utopian future without ever having to go through a cost of living crisis again, but be subtle as you can, far too many of those keyboard warriors on X think they know what’s going on as it is. Throw them a nationalisation bone if you like, but whatever you do, don’t mention immigration or Andy, or Wes, or even Angela, anyway we’ll have a word, it isn’t as if we don’t have one or two tricks up our sleeves. You’ve come this far, it’d be a shame if we had to start all over again, it’s already taken us nearly ten years to get here. We gave you the chance, if you were to blow it now who knows what the consequences might be”?

The man felt goosebumps along his arms, for the potential consequences were all of his own making.

“Alright, I get it and I must admit that your suggestion that I bring in Gordon as my Special Reviewer On Global Finance did manage to deflect attention away from me for a little while, at least. I’ll do the speech on Monday, what do you think, suit and tie or sleeves rolled up, toolmakers son style”?

There was a couple of seconds pause at the other end of the line, although it seemed like an age.

“Deflection is a tactic we often use, as you well know. As for the attire and demeanour, go for the working class boy made good look again, you’ll come across as slightly less awkward than you normally do. We’ll leave it to the Spads to come up with the exact wording, you can have some input if you like, but just make sure you get the key points in. British values, far right sowing division, the youth’s the future and there isn’t really a future (the words for you went unsaid) unless it fully embraces and eventually encompasses the EU”.

“Is that all” said the man, “I need to get down to Hampshire tonight, there are some ruffled feathers that need smoothing, I don’t suppose I can tell them we’ve spoken, that always seems to impress at least some of the inner circle”.

Again there was a short pause, as if the caller was weighing up what to say.

“Better not this time, it all needs to come from you, they need to see your resolve and strength of character come to the fore, now more than ever (was that a hint of sarcasm in the callers voice? Surely not) . Oh, before you go there are two more things. Whatever happens on Monday you can’t resign, as much as you might want to, you’re in this to the end, and there’s another appointment you need to make, just to keep the old guard fully on side and to repay a couple of favours. You need to make Harriet your Special Advisor On Women And Girls. Now, is that all clear? If so I’ll wish you goodnight”.

“Yes” the man said and disconnected the call, keeping the for fucks’ sake to himself.
 

© Colin Cross 2026