A large courgette, spring onions, potatoes, beetroot, radishes and some garlic and shallotts to dry and store. One trip to the garden and a few minutes harvesting.
My mother was a self sufficiency nut in the spirit of John Seymour with whom she corresponded, a believer in a sort of communitarian way of thinking. I spent a, not entirely happy, summer on a Welsh agricultural commune with her. Even then, aged six or seven I guess there must have been a latent capitalist and libertarian within me because I remember that I sensed unhappiness and impending implosion. There were loud arguments among the adults. Some folks worked hard in the fields while others listened to folk music and dreamed of the revolution. In the end those who worked walked and those who did not had to go and find someone else to sponge off.
This is just the first tray. Another has now arrived in my office/food storage area. The garlic needs about four weeks to dry before I clean it again and string it up in the larder. The shallotts need about half that time before they are stored in an open tray in the kitchen. All in all there are about twenty cloves of garlic which the Mrs uses in her Indian cooking quite a bit and I use in salad dressings and when cooking prawns for the kids. So, I reckon, we have enough to tide us over until the spring garlic is ready. The shallots? Added to pheasant and bacon stew in the Autumn, what could be better?
Some plums went to my neighbour the rest will be turned into ice cream llater this afternoon. While Joshua is sometimes reluctant to garden there is never any objection to making ice cream. The raspberries will be turned into ice cream tomorrow. Its a treat a day for the kids here at the Welsh Hovel.
Not literally but I am stunned how, in a Greek absence of less than three weeks everything has grown so fast. Naturally it is the weeds that have grown most rapidly and I sense some hard days ahead for myself and Joshua on that front.
Of course Ukraine and the US election are linked. The ex BBC man Sopel has severe Trump Derngement Syndrome and is looking at polls and getting very excited. But are Trump or Russia really losing? The podcast explains why not.
When we first arrived in Kambos the eating out choice was either the Kourounis taverna come grocery store run by lovely Eleni or Miranda’s the small taverna at the top of the Square. Eleni does food as a sideline and it’s great but a limited choice. Miranda’s “menu” was the one dish she was serving that day.
Young Joshua, aka the pest, has always made a habit of collecting a bunch of useless pebbles from whichever beach he goes to and this holiday was no different. Nearly all of the beaches of the Mani are pebbles rather than sand so on our trips to the seaside he had ample opportunity to collect.
After my mum died we had a series of Warwick University students, mainly from the Classics department set up by my Dad, come to look after us as babysittters. There was one of my heroes in jounalism, the great Neil M. who got his break onto Fleet Street by scooping a sex scandal involving the pop star Howard Jones who, until then, was thought to be rather a wholesome fellow. Classy. I am still in touch with Neil who was one of the 30 folks able to attend the funeral of my father during covid. If only we had been shooting grouse we could have had more. Thanks Boris Johnson you total arsehole.
There is a way that Greeks talk quickly and loudly that makes you feel as if they are shouting at you. They aren’t. Maybe it is just the way the language is put together. Anyhow poor mad lefty J had a load of this not only from lovely Eleni at the Kourounis taverna but from Eleni’s husband, the sister of the murderer and a couple of other folks the other day. And the target of their ire was me.
The front of the ouzerie is the main road, almost opposite the olive press. Behind it is a small courtyard which is normally fairly empty. For the food, the backgammon boards, the best loo in a Kambos restaurant and a mummy cat with three kittens we are hooked. It is 300 yards away from the main square sided by Eleni’s Kourounis and two other restaurants so if you want some peace and quiet and time to think….
Back in Airstrip One, T, J, R and others, all veteran olive harvesters are waiting with baited breath to hear if this year’s olive harvest is viable. The hot weather and drought has raised fears in some quarters. I have also pondered as to whether my health is up to it.
The old orchard at the Welsh Hovel sits between our back garden and the river and contains four very old apple trees. There were five but the floods did for one of them a year or so ago. The new orchard containing about thirty trees of which just over a third are apples or crab apples is four years old and the newest clutch of apple trees at the top of the vegetable patch can be seen HERE. But there is a fourth group of trees planted last year by myself and my pal C.
I have covid for a third or fourth time. I felt fairly horrible on Friday night but a day of rest, fluids, vitamin C and zinc leaves me feeling much better. A friend who has had nine jabs also has covid. I had two a long time ago and regret that bitterly. I discuss the claim that having more jabs makes the covid caught less serious in light of the data and the history of GroupThink and expert lies.
A number of kind readers as well as an Oxford contemporary, L, have either expressed surprise that I am such a keen gardener or have asked for a progress report. Well here goes. I start with the small field behind the barn which was six foot high in weeds when we arrived and contained a number of abandoned metal structures hidden by those weeds. As you can see in the first photo, it is now anew orchard of about 30 trees, mainly plums, apples, crab apples and pears but with the odd fig, a dog’s arse tree and a tayberry. At the end of the orchard is the top field where one day I hope to keep goats. I have planted five edible olive trees from Greece, three mulberry trees and a sweet chestnut around the edge. That is all WIP.
