Weeding the Web

The Big Allotment Challenge - what would you have done?

So, it's over. The Big Allotment Challenge, the programme that, according to editor of Horticulture Week, Matthew Appleby, the industry hoped would create a "boom time" for gardening in the manner of Ground Force. It ain't going to happen, is it?

If you're like me, you really wanted - expected - to like this programme. So I felt considerable pain two weeks ago when I turned to Husband and admitted, "This is really boring, isn't it?" Last week, it fell second choice to a Rockford Files episode on DVD, and on Tuesday to The Odd Couple. (For a couple of media opinions see The Guardian and their gardening blog.)

But I watched last night's final with an analytical eye. It was meant to be another Bake-Off - what happened?  Here's my take. I'd love to hear your opinion.

Why the Great British Bake-Off works and The Big Allotment Challenge Doesn't

• GBBO has a great team of judges with expertise in the same subject. BAC lacks the spark of disagreement between experts.
• Individuals competing. Unexpectedly, teams seemed to dilute impact, rather than double it. GBBO builds relationships between presenters and competitors. BAC faces teams of two, which are a subtly more self-contained unit.
• GBBO is active at every stage of development. It makes you feel that you might just have a go at that choux pastry, now that you've seen it made and had it explained. BAC makes very passive watching; I'd be surprised if any non-gardening viewers (were there any by the end?) felt the urge to leap outside and stick seeds in the ground at any time in the last six weeks.
• Time jeopardy. The GBBO contestants always seem to be up against the clock, whether that's clever editing or not. The BAC can't replicate this - the best it seemed to manage was an over-ripe melon a week in advance. Result? Disappointment, not tension.
• Repetition. Whereas GBBO manages to ring the changes each week for those interested in baking, BAC presented just more of the same, even for gardeners. Why the fascination with pickles? And aren't there other things to do with flowers than arrange them?

Will The Big Allotment Challenge return? Possibly, but surely with a different format. Here are my ideas on making it more interesting:

1. Don't get rid of contestants - make it a competition based on points built up during the series (actually this isn't my idea. I found it on another blog but I've forgotten which. If it's yours, let me know and I'll put in a link.)
2. Sell flowers. Send the competitors to a local market with bunches they've grown and see who makes the most money.
3. Have a Generation Game-type challenge. Jonathan Moseley could create something tricky and competitors have to copy it in two minutes.
4. Grow to show a modern variety and a heritage variety of a certain veg. The comparison should be educational.
5. Build a support for climbing peas in half an hour, and let's see if it stands up to their weight during the season.
6. Grow the topping for your own pizza - show imagination. Honestly, if I'd seen Thane Prince pop a teaspoon of mush in her chops one more time, I think I'd have squealed.

I could go on (note to producers: Feel free to ask) but I bet you can think of a few challenges yourself. What would you like to see on The Great Allotment Challenge? Or did you like it just as it was?

 And here's another review from Two Thirsty Gardeners: Sarah Coomer's Guest Review: The Big Allotment Challenge.

GBBD: Solomon's Seal lights up a dark spot

There are some plants that refuse to do as they're told. Solomon's Seal, warned against as invasive by some sources - or, at least, spreading - is certainly not that in my front garden. It's supposed to do well in shade (check!) and moist soil (check!). So, my tiny clump has sent up one flower spike per year for goodness knows how long. This year, though, it's sent up two and there are are couple of smaller ones on the way.

The flowers look superb and the leaves take to back-lighting like an aging diva. This can only be another plant which has lapped up the heavy rain over winter.

Must water more often.

Why not pop over to May Dreams Gardens to see what else in blooming in bloggers' gardens?

How to put in a vertical post for raspberry supports

Putting in a vertical post feels as if it must be the easiest thing in the world, until you're faced with the reality of doing it. Possibly that's what prompted my recall of an urgent errand last week, five minutes into the afternoon that  Husband and I had earmarked to erect the new raspberry supports.

"How did you know to do that?" I asked admiringly (and very soothingly) on my return.

Husband - sole excavator for four holes 18 inches deep in clay soil like concrete -  was decidedly grumpy. But it wasn't muscle-power that aroused my conciliatory admiration. It was the way he'd got the posts upright.

Our nation's men are not exactly practical, according to Channel 4's research (released last Monday in time for their new series, The Island with Bear Grylls). While I can't get too excited by 62% not knowing how to light a fire without a lighter (I'm pretty sure it's been like that for some time; the tinder-box was around before lucifers), I can see a few jerry-built shelves going up in Wales, where 83% of men said they'd never been taught any practical DIY.

"I've watched other people do it," growled Husband - a little pointedly, I thought.

So, for anyone whose husband is Welsh, or who hasn't hung around building sites eyeing up the work, here's a quick run-down on how to ensure your posts are vertical enough to put the bubble between the lines in the spirit level.

We were putting in the Harrod Horticultural Summer Raspberry Supports that I decided to treat myself to, as the raspberry bed has been looking a mess for some time. The posts (which have to be accurately upright in order to accommodate the cross-piece) are therefore square and quite narrow. We also decided that the soil being what it is, we could get away with putting them straight in and not using concrete. However, the principle is the same, whether pouring concrete in the hole or using a round stake instead.

1. Dig hole.

2. Bash in a baton (18 x 2 x 1 inches is nicely robust) at a 45 degree angle into the far wall of the hole.

3. Place your post against this and check that it's vertical by placing spirit level on opposite side from wooden baton.

4. Alter post position until it is vertical. It should stand flush against the baton. (You don't want it wobbling back and forth against it.) Tap the post in slightly to help it stay in place.

5. The post is now vertical in one plane (left to right, or front to back), and you need to ensure it's upright in the plane at 90 degrees to that (front to back, or left to right). Place the spirit level on the side 90 degrees from the plane you've just set and adjust until vertical.

6. Holding the post firmly, tap in another baton at right angles to the original, and against the post, so that the post is held vertical in both planes by the corner made by the two batons (as you can see clearly in the top picture - the third baton, on the left in front, in the top picture, is adding stability to the middle baton).

7. Fill the hole.

It seemed undiplomatic to break off in the middle of hole-filling to take photos, so the pictures all illustrate holes with soil replaced, but you can see the baton placement. (We had two uprights in one hole as we bought two sets of supports and placed them next to each other, so the left to right baton in the bottom picture is serving two uprights.)

We watered the soil in, so it would fill the hole properly. Once it had all settled and dried out a bit, we pulled out the wooden batons. (If you were using concrete, it would be a good idea to bang batons into the surrounding ground, rather than into the sides of the holes as we [er - he] did.)

And voilà. Vertical uprights. This is obviously easier to do with two people - one to hold the post, and one to bang in the batons. However, Husband would like you to know it's perfectly possible with just one. Alone. without help. In fact, all by himself.