When I Was a Boy

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When I was a boy, my father had an “allotment”.

For the duration of World War 2, the United Kingdom became separated from her normal trading resources, which mostly came by sea. This being the case, the administration of the day motivated individuals to “Dig for Victory”… i.e., turn their flower gardens into vegetable gardens, and so grow to be more self-sufficient.

Needless to say, not every person in England has a big garden. The local town authorities were motivated to hire out small plots of terrain, typically around 1/6th of an acre, for a peppercorn fee, to any individual that sought to grow and maintain their own vegetables… an “allotment”.

After my Dad returned home from his Air Force service duties at the end of the world war, he discovered that some of the acreage at the border of his home had also been converted to allotments. Hence it was that my siblings, my friends and I grew up surrounded by fruit and vegetable gardens.

Much to the despair of the allotment renters (between whom had become some fairly intensive levels of competition), these types of plots happened to be amazing locations for children to play their games, with quite a lot of hiding places to investigate. We additionally discovered that there is practically nothing quite so delightful as an early bean or carrot root pulled from the ground, cleaned off and eaten raw. With simply no idea of hygiene or even bacteria, all of us could scamper off to our small hiding locations in order to enjoy the delights of our “scrumping”.

As we grew more mature these kinds of hideaways ended up used for other explorations… the 1st cigarette… exactly how boys are different from girls… you understand the games that children enjoy.

Hence, when I came to maturity, married and brought up a family group of my own, it felt really quite normal to get my own allotment. I wanted our kids to develop, discovering the difference between a cabbage and a cauliflower, to savour the taste associated with brand new potatoes and new beans. Quite naturally I’ve develop into one of the aged gaffers, wearing a flat beret, that takes pride in the applause of his mates in producing the tallest sunflowers and the most tasty tomatoes.

Friends traveling to our house have frequently wanted to know if I and my other allotment holders undergo much by way of kids taking our own vegetables (“scrumping”). The response to which is, normally regrettably, “No”.

The previous allotment that I rented in Britain is actually located in a space open to the public and there will be regular people strolling along the route that goes through the spot. This particular path-way takes you to an open park of grass and woodland, where at this time there is a kids’ play area along with swings and climbing frame, etc. Sometimes families stop to praise and converse and when they have youngsters along with them I might go out of my way to give various fresh new fruit or vegetable for them to be able to test.

Despite the fact that these children are along with their own moms and dads, kids are usually very careful (quite correct, you may say). I call to mind asking one particular girl if she liked peas, she was with her mum and dad and these people used to be regular visitors. The girl’s mum assured me that, indeed, her daughter did enjoy peas… they were just one of her favourites. And so I went and selected some pea-pods and presented them to her.

“Oh no”, said her mum… “not those variety of peas!”

Neither the young girl, nor her mother and father, had a clue precisely what a pea pod was (a genuine “I don’t believe it” moment).

I see the outcome of a study on eating practices undertaken in London, England, amongst youngsters under the age of sixteen years. The survey identified that in almost any specified month, the only vegetable eaten by 47% of those youngsters was potato.

Should we worry about the state of overall health of our so called civilised society?