I'm a Doer, not a Watcher

Beaters in hand, rhythm all around and utter joy in my heart. *That* is what I love about drumming with Batala. Tonight I didn't even feel I was particularly on form - a much smaller and lighter drum than usual felt quite different and I was also just a bit tired / distracted / out of practice - but the rush of drumming in such an awesome band was amazing. In my mind I have a snapshot moment of looking forward through the band to our awesome caller for tonight, as we played our second and final set in Garstang. The hoodies. The costumes. The smiles. The energy. The power. The DRUMMING.

Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. My arrival to the gig had been somewhat more stressful than desirable given difficulties I had locating our meeting point but throughout that period my concern was that I was going to miss out on playing. The event was pretty good itself - lots of shops open, stalls out in the street, street organs and the like - but I didn't want to watch it all. I didn't want to be the recipient of something that was organised for my entertainment. I wanted to be IN it. Doing. And that's what I got to do. And it was ACE.

The contrast was made starker by being much more of a "watcher" this weekend, with a trip down to a Sunday Assembly in Manchester. It was somewhat of a research trip as there's a small team of us hoping to set up a Sunday Assembly in Lancaster - but it was also another amazing "clarity finder" to add to the list in 2013. The Sunday Assembly concept is that of a church-type set up, but without the religion. I've heard it called the atheist church - but it's not really that either. Whether you have a faith or not, the Sunday Assemblies provide a non-religious setting to spend some time with others from your local community, sing some songs, hear some addresses and have a cuppa after. And that was very much what we found on Sunday morning.

This was the second Manchester Sunday Assembly, and was held in the amazing Victoria Baths (more on them in a bit). There was clearly a strong organising team facilitating the smooth running of everything and the format was very much what I'd been anticipating from a Sunday Assembly. But left me very much being a watcher. Listening to what was being said but not necessarily actively engaging. There was something about it that left me wanting to have "done" more. And yet, thinking about it, I'm not sure how in the set up that I anticipated (and was party to) I would have done more. I love the idea of meeting and getting to know more people in my locale and this seemed the perfect medium. Maybe it still is. But there's a nagging feeling inside me that this may not be the magic pill I was looking for.

But the Victoria Baths. Oh. My. From first looking at their website I had a suspicion I'd fall in love with them and I absolutely did. Stunning glazed tiles. Classic Victorian architecture. A sense of solidity. And just so evocative of, well, another age, another way of living, another world. Rose tinted glasses and all but I was entranced. I shared a delightful moment with three folk sitting behind me when one commented that it was really rather odd sitting in the bottom of an empty swimming pool (the congregation was on chairs on the rake of the base of the pool, the presentation happening from "the deep end") to which my only response was "Hmm, somehow it doesn't feel odd to me. Maybe I've been in the bottom of an empty pool before..." And I think I have - but the memory I've managed to extract from my brain doesn't have the hallmarks of one where being in such an unusual position would just go down as "normal" in my books. Another mystery for another day.

At the end of the Assembly "proper" we were invited to have a look around the building and I pounced on the chance - and somehow managed to snare myself the Baths' representative who was there in a caretaking capacity as a personal guide. I saw the Turkish baths and a contraption that was one of the first jacuzzi type affairs and had an amazing "control panel" to regulate the temperature etc. which looked like it could launch rockets. I saw the other two pool halls - one of which had been covered over for some time and was used as a sports hall, the other which was the most likely contender to become an operational pool again in the nearest future (and had been proven to be water tight just a few months earlier). And I got the opportunity to gaze and gaze and gaze. WONDERFUL space.

(I even got to see the basement and walk around the sides of the pools from the bottom, and go to the room which had the filtering machines and the old laundry. I feel so lucky to have had such a comprehensive and yet totally unexpected tour of this wonderful old place.)

So it's already been a week of contrasts - and it's only Tuesday...  

A quiet weekend in and around Chez Tigs

So, as friends around me seem to have social calendars fit to bursting I find myself having had a delightfully quiet and easy going weekend, with similar weekends to come over the next few weeks. By delightfully quiet I mainly mean that I spent the whole weekend either in Morecambe or Lancaster, did plenty of pottering around at home and feel wonderfully rested. There have been lots of adventures off and about around the UK this year which have been marvellous - but now I'm much more settled in Morecambe, being able to spend a whole weekend in my own locale is a precious treat.

It's also given me the opportunity to do and reflect on things that might otherwise have been a long time in coming - or had their moment pass entirely. Things which included...

Return of the curtain making
I love sewing. I have 3 sewing machines to my name (not to mention the overlocker) and still aspire to owning a treadle machine (especially now I've had the opportunity to get somewhat familiar with using one while I was in Shropshire). That said, 2 of the aforementioned three do rather need to see a sewing machine engineer and, having got a number of a recommended local engineer, this week may see me putting those digits into my phone and making contact... But this is a distraction. From. The. Curtains.

This weekend's curtains were in fact very straight forward - taking some existing curtains which I'd inherited and adapting them for The Snug. Two things. I wish I could remember where I'd inherited these curtains from. They're gorgeous heavy green fabric with a slight sheen to them and are now adorning three windows in two rooms in my house (with some still left over which I suspect will end up in a new skirt or dress). But, alas, their lineage is lost to me. I live in hope that one day their donator will visit and recognise them. Until then: a mystery.

The second thing. The Snug. I don't entirely know why it became The Snug. Because it's really anything but. A very large room that in the past has been a shop (it's most recent use I've been led to believe was a hairdressers, perhaps 10-15 years ago) and had it's own title deed. It's also a very tall room - possibly the tallest in the house. And with three external walls, even in summer it's not particularly snug. It's also a room which elicits mixed responses: most people love the raised double bed that's in there now, but I've had a friend in the past find it conjured an uneasy vibe. And part of its "unsnugness" was the inspiration for today's curtaining.

But the curtaining doesn't end with the windows. I've made many curtains for my house (and an increasing number for other homes and buildings - one such pair having their Grand Hanging on Friday. Photographic evidence is expected...) and am now plotting another "partition curtain". Part of The Snug's unsnugness comes from trying to heat such a large room. Generally only half of The Snug is in use at any one time so if I can create a large-panel-patchwork extravaganza I may well find myself with a more snug Snug. Which would be nice. But the windows needed to come first. Which they did. And they're done. Which is satisfying.

The Moving of Furniture
Since a young age I've had a penchant for rearranging furniture in my living space. Many were the times I shifted all the items of furniture, including my bunk bed, pretty much solo on a whim one weekend while living at home. Earlier this weekend (I forget exactly when) I realised the work-surface set up I had in The Snug wasn't optimal so after a mid-afternoon bath (it's been that kind of weekend: plus it's the fastest way to warm up in my house without much physical exertion) I had a merry little rearrange.

I'm really pleased with the result and even as I briefly sat at my desk it felt much more satisfying. The room's not entirely finished (curtain aside there's a sofa I need to collect from it's current loan-place so I've got somewhere I can curl up in comfort) but it's significantly closer than it was. Huzzah.

The weekend also included playing with candles as a heat source - current verdict: very positive - and the joys of processing harvests, albeit small. But those delights will have to wait for another moment - other than to say green tomatoes are my favourite new ingredient :)

Bonfires are Magical

I think bonfires are utterly magical. And I have done for years. But for me part of the magic is the fact that they never lose the magic. I've had the great pleasure of being around, feeding, building and generally enjoying bonfires for pretty much as long as I can remember, and yet still, I have more to learn from them.

The "man and fire" connection.

The amazing meditative quality of gazing at a fire as it burns.

The sense of peace evoked by being by a bonfire after darkness has fallen, the moon rising behind it.

And, perhaps most importantly this time round, their beautiful demonstration of the fact that Everything Changes. All The Time.

Some may argue it's somewhat cliched or trite, but change in any and all aspects of life and living is absolutely inevitable. Having spent a week at my parents' in rural Oxfordshire and resurrecting the bonfire ashes several times, these fires have somehow captured my imagination as a stunning example of change. Why?

Maybe it was the huge difference between being around a bonfire, and by being the bonfire builder, nurturer and carer. I hadn't been in the latter position for a while and being back where my bonfiring began was simply marvellous. This time round it was fairly "easy going" bonfiring - there was no big deadline, no pressure but somehow exactly the right amount of stuff to burn. But each day was a different bonfire. How it started. How it burned. How it needed looking after to keep it going. How the embers were left at the end of the night. How the ash pile was the following morning.

Maybe it was the evocation of memories of bonfires past - people who have been part of previous "burnings" and those who never quite made it. Where they are now. What they're up to. Those I'm in touch with - those that I'm not.

And maybe it's simply the fact that bonfires change. Constantly, organically and unerringly - even as ashes there's still an evolution going on. Sometimes the fire's nature is somewhat predictable (watching it build, the flames bursting through occasionally from the bed of hot ashes, anticipating where they'll go next) but there's never absolute certainty as to what will happen next. Bonfires, more than wood burners or even open fires, seem to me to have so much more space for their own way of doing things - the side that will burn more, the influence of the wind. And that freedom to me is what creates the utter mesmeric nature I found myself completely enfolded in as I sat watching.

Bonfires are special. And I think they're magical. But my newfound analogy of their constantly changing, fundamentally unpredictable nature is what's really warming my soul just now.

Lazy Sunday Morning

Having consumed the best part of a large block of tofu for breakfast (why have I not had more scrambled tofu Sunday morning breakfasts in my life to date? Something which shall, henceforth, be rectified) I'm still not particularly inclined to start dashing about. And, gratefully, I have no need to. Huzzah!

"Busy" is a rather non-descriptive term for how my life tends to be. Given it's more interesting when I'm *not* busy. So a better term to use today I think is incessant. Chatting to a friend over some Fentiman's CherryTree cola ("Hello! What's the red Fentiman's, please? Oh, it's a new Cherry cola? Brilliant! One of those please!") yesterday it was her who managed to identify what I'd been up to last weekend - so much has happened since and so much is lined up for the imminent future. There's a definite zest for life at the moment (as opposed to a relentless "just keep going") and with it thoughts mulling in my mind of possibilities - and enjoying making my house more of a home. I've also an acute awareness of "nothing ever stays still" - and the importance to be settled with the changing, while also enjoying memories and nostalgia.

All of which is rather airy fairy compared to drumming in the wind and the rain last night! Batala Lancaster had a gig as part of the warm up for Lancaster City Council's fireworks display from the castle. We played in two of the viewing areas - and arriving at the first in the dark, the rain threatening and the wind whistling, to a crowd of zilch was not one of the most inspiring audiences we've had! But (and it makes me proud to be a part of this brilliant band) we started with gusto at the designated hour and had a crowd of souls who'd come out to brave the elements enjoying the performance. If there's one thing we do exceptionally well, it's bringing energy, enthusiasm and gusto to every gig we do - regardless of the circumstances. Our second set started with a much bigger audience (being that much closer to the start of the fireworks display) but it rapidly became apparent the grass we were playing on had a strong inclination to become mud under our feet. That our caller for that set was completely unaware of that fact and called several of our "moving" numbers just made it all the more amusing!

We had a great reception from the audience and there was quite a lot of "Can I bang your drum?" after the set as many of us were staying for the fireworks. I love playing with Batala. That I'm now beginning to remember the tunes helps, too!

And the fireworks! An impressive display but my favourite of the night were the fireworks that had a large reach of twinkling sparkles cascading down. And no, words don't really do justice to fireworks. After depositing my drum back in another band member's vehicle (after the Ingleton Falls gig I know I *could* cycle to a gig with my drum on my back, but when there's no need to, I don't!) I headed off to the pub, only to discover I was really tired and much more in need of food than I'd given myself credit for. I'm always fascinated by the times when I get a really physical reaction to food (either a lack thereof, or an overload) and last night was certainly one. The fact I had a particularly strenuous cycle home (getting drenched while also battling gusty winds) just added to the craziness.

And the cycle in! Again I got drenched, but this time in an utter downpour during a thunderstorm that was followed by amazing sunshine, a double rainbow and the stunning contrast of autumnal leaves' sparkling colours against the black of a post-thunderstorm sky. That it was then dry for a good 90 minutes after (the ride was about 20 minutes - at least 7 of which were during The Drenching) just reinforced my satisfaction of *not* being a fairweather cyclist.

So now I find myself on a quiet Sunday morning, not quite in the mood to do much other than mooch. Which is pretty much what Sundays were designed for, in my book.

Unexpected Convictions

Turns out I'm more vegan than I thought I was.

I've now been vegan for longer than I haven't been vegan. It's very much become a habit. And most of the time I just get on with it - I do most of my own cooking usually so I simply cook vegan. When I'm out, I hunt down the vegan option (and generally get completely bamboozled when there's more than one option available to me - the notable exception being when I'm at Dandelion and Burdock when the choices fill me with uncontainable joy and delight and I simply get really excitable). And when friends cook for me I'm always incredibly grateful for their thoughtfulness in coming up with something vegan.

Occasionally I have a fleeting craving for something I no longer eat - cakes often feature, occasionally a quiche or an omelette but said cravings rarely last very long. Recently my dedication to being vegan has been particularly challenged by a non-edible, namely the new NO HANDS Massage balm. Therapist friends and colleagues, even my clients (some of whom have bought some for their own home self-care regime), have been singing its praises as a Massage balm, a body lotion, a moisturiser...and yet I'm not using it because it contains a small amount of beeswax. "Is beeswax really so important?" I found a voice inside my head asking.

The jury was still out on the beeswax when I found myself wandering around Ludlow (a veritable foodie-ville in the midst of Herefordshire) and having a whinge at myself. "If I wasn't vegan, I could have that...and that...and that...why do I even bother being vegan anyway?"

It was the closest I'd got to throwing the towel in and just grabbing something (non-vegan) to munch on but there was still a hesitation. And it's timing was poetically brilliant.

Next stop after staying with my friends in Ludlow was a week WWOOFing with a family / community who are aiming to be as self-sufficient as possible. Part of their approach is to keep animals - for eggs, dairy and meat. Again - my timing was impeccable. I happened to be there the one week in the year when they were sending some of their sheep to the abbatoir. Good work, Tigger.

They were very accommodating of my veganism and very kindly limited my WWOOFing duties to non-animal related tasks. But living so "close" to the sounds and smells of farmed animals I found incredibly challenging. Even given the animals were being farmed in a "friendly" way and a very far cry from the intensive meat and dairy production which supplies the majority of meat sold in the UK. This was the first time since being vegan, and possibly even ever, that I'd spent such a length of time in that kind of situation and it really didn't suit me.

It's difficult to explain the whys and wherefores. Other than to say that deep in my guts, deep in my core I felt really uncomfortable. I don't read up on animal farming conditions or farm-to-plate cycles: it's not something I participate in and the times I have investigated it, I've been really upset by what I've found. So I get on with the alternative of not participating.

But one (admittedly anthropomorphising) aspect which was writ large during my stay was that of freedom. I'm incredibly lucky in the level of freedom I have (including living in circumstances that mean I can choose to be vegan) and know that having my freedom curtailed, in any of a multitude of ways, really crushes my soul. So the idea of holding dominion over animals, curtailing their freedom for our own ends really jars. Even bee-keeping includes that aspect (although less obviously than many other forms of animal farming) and so my conviction around beeswax has also been reinforced.

So, unexpectedly, I find myself realising that my veganism is a much deeper part of my convictions than I'd previously given it credit for. That's not to say there aren't issues with being vegan (food miles, Fairtrade, supply chain, packaging...) but for now this is where I stand.

Being vegan is important to me, but pro-actively "converting" the general populace is not really on my agenda. If asked, I'll gladly discuss my reasons for being vegan. But the idea of barging into people's lives to tell them what they should or shouldn't eat doesn't appeal. I see so many hang-ups around food - if someone is happy and healthy with getting on with how they are, I'm not interested in upsetting the applecart for the sake of it. I enjoy the conversations exploring different choices with people, but only when the time is right.

The place to start with change is with myself and I know my veganism has challenged stereotypes held by friends and family and encouraged a more open consideration of veganism, as well as some familiarity of the issues faced. But the reality I've discovered in the past few weeks is that it's my personal conviction that keeps me vegan. I hadn't expected that conviction to run so deep but the realisation that it does is certainly useful information as I consider other aspects of my life and new, diverse possibilities for the future.

The wonders of mid-Wales WWOOFing

The clouds are hanging heavy and there's a slight mist in the air (I refuse to believe it's started raining) as I sit beside Lake Vyrnwy in mid-Wales. I started my day about an hour further south but stumbled across a rather wonderful sounding between-WWOOF-hosts possibility: a country hotel and spa that took day guests. My kind of place. After my usual fun and games on little unexpected roads with my sat nav (much like my tablet PC, I feel my sat nav should have a name. I have yet to find its name, which is slightly frustrating, but I'm sure it'll come about soon. Maybe I'll call it Bert. Who knows) I arrived here a couple of hours ago and have thoroughly heated myself through and through. Brilliant.

The hotel has a brilliant position looking down the lake (I keep wanting to call it a loch...right island, wrong country) and, in fact, from the spa it's possible to walk directly out into the fresh October air and gaze at a rather beautiful tower about half way down the lake. This tower became the object of my adventuring as soon as I saw it so having got to the point of wanting to do some doing I popped my robe back in the locker and wandered down along the lake.

Now, as it turns out, the tower (as is possibly to be expected of a large reservoir-looking-lake) is part of the mechanics of this particular body of water, the "straining tower" apparently and is the sole dominion of a certain water company I used to work for. Ho hum. Would have made a brilliant "unusual holiday cottage" and perhaps one day still will. I am curious as to whether it actually has much in the way of machinery inside (it being a rather substantial tower) but suspect that's a curiosity that won't get resolved today.

I really do feel incredibly grateful to be able to take holidays like this. I get so much from WWOOFing - the time to reflect and challenge my ideas is wonderful, as well as trying out "other possibilities" in terms of ways of doing things. The clarity I'm getting from it is wonderfully constructive (and just wonderful in its own right) and, if its possible, I have even more ideas brewing than ever (having knocked some off the list along the way - it's not all "add, add, add".

The ponderance most at the forefront of my thoughts currently  is most easily summarised by the idea of our "footprint" on the earth (carbon and otherwise) - and about making the change at home but being aware of the global impact and struggles that are going on. This is certainly a ponderance which has some way to go yet, and could be a lifetime's ponderance all in its own right, but as I try out different lifestyles (albeit for very short stretches of time) I challenge what I require, as well as what I'm most comfortable with. Yes, I can live in quite extreme conditions but actually, there are a whole range of creature comforts I'm rather fond of. Getting clear on those comforts before stripping them away irreversibly seems like an imminently valuable prospect!

So thank you pllanet - and all who've played a part in my life to date. I'm in a really good spot just now and looking forward to the adventures ahead.

(Unfortunately, as it turns out from the walk back, the hotel really isn't an addition to the aesthetics of the valley at all...)

From one Berrington Hall to another

Well, not quite! My latest "Adventures in Tigger's parallel universe" have very much begun, with a rather stop-start journey on Friday (useful stops, but it made the day feel like it went on forever) leading to a wonderful couple of days with friends just outside Ludlow. Great company, wonderful food (including an apple, damson and dried fruit puff pastry turnover...and I got one to take away too! Amazing!) and the opportunity to do some Massage in my friend's wonderful "Shed".

On leaving I didn't feel quite ready simply to head off to my first WWOOFing destination of the holiday, and ended up detouring to Berrington Hall II (as it shall always be known in my head), fairly local to my friends and definitely not the Berrington Hall I was at in August (or will be at later this holiday). Absolutely amazing contrast - two very different Berrington Halls, even before you consider their current uses (one's National Trust, the other a community that's been going for almost 40 years). Lots of thoughts at the moment about self sufficiency, what it means and what's possible (I got to pick my first cobnuts yesterday. It was ace!) but generally just overall enjoyment of OutsideNess.

[about 50 hours later] And now I find myself rather amused by the fact I've just used a soap from a tin with a sheep on, in the depths of sheep farming country (the soap and tin I've owned - but only now started using - for well over a decade, if not two). It's the little things that do it for me.

More importantly, however, was the fact that I've just had a wonderful hot shower. Some days I can give or take a shower - but this evening after some unseasonably warm days the cold seemed to descend with the misly misty rain and a warming shower was perfect.

I'm currently in mid-South-Wales (I'm sure there's an official term, but it's the southern bit of Wales, and in the middle - it could also be south Mid-Wales...I'm unsure of the geopolitical boundaries on this one. And now I look at what I've written, I should probably also qualify that it's definitely not New South Wales!) on week one of the aforementioned WWOOFing destinations. A farm that was derelict for 20-30 years, the host I'm staying with has been here for around 25 years and in that time has pretty much started from the ground up (or, in the case of the derelict farmhouse, the oak timber frame that was the only thing still standing).

It's hard to imagine what the site would have been like when they first arrived as they've done a huge amount of work creating planting schemes, vegetable beds, structures and much more besides. There's an old chapel as part of the site and although that has been deconsecrated, the graveyard beside it is still in use (although new additions seem to be few and far between). And, in fact, the chapel was a feature of my work today - given that I spent a few hours this afternoon sitting cross-legged on the slate-flag floor plaiting onions into, well, onion plaits. Not something I've done before but I did find it rather enjoyable - I'm not sure whether I'll get to finish the job (each day's activities are very subject to change so although I have another 3 working days here, I may or may not be back in the chapel) but I certainly made a dint. I also remembered to take some photos but have yet to work out the camera-to-tablet synchronisation, so they may have to wait until my return home!

This host keeps a fair amount of livestock (along with their purely vegetative endeavours) which has provided more food for thought (no pun intended). The other WWWOOFer who's here at the moment is vegetarian, not vegan like me, and she's been enjoying having the opportunity to make butter and cheese, along with milking the cows. The issue of surviving on only what I could produce myself from a plot in the UK is continuing to be an interesting reflection, but being around livestock is highlighting the fact that, for now at least, my desire for a vegan lifestyle is strong and my interest in various vegetable protein sources is continuing to be piqued (see cobnut reference above - huzzah!)

I've also been getting more committed to investigating forest gardening as an approach to food production, over planting annuals, year on year. But more than that, the aspiration for self-sustainability is a fascinating one, given the "creature comforts" and level of diverse interests and possibilities that the developed world current offers. And if truth be told, I'm not sure I'd want to be a full time market gardener, even if it was only to produce my own food. The scale of food production is rather different with this host as they're a larger family unit than solo me (plus they have a LOT of WWOOFers to feed thoughout the year) but even so, planting and tending and harvesting the same veg year on year doesn't appeal. Whereas tending perennials, and bushes and trees really does. All part of the mix!

But for now, I'm tucked up nice and warm in the old granary (which is a twin room for WWOOFers - and given there are only 2 of us on site at the moment, I've got it all to myself) and looking forward to a good night's rest.

More adventures in a parallel universe

When it feels like the world is rushing by in a blur of activity and happenings and Things To Do it's hard to know where to start. And that's exactly how things feel at the moment. Drumming, WWOOFing, cancellations, new plans - it's all there in technicolor but until now it hasn't translated into a blog.

I had every intention of taking a chunk of time on my way home from the WWOOF AGM (about 10 days ago) to collect my thoughts but somehow I wasn't in the right frame of mind. The intensity of happenings at the moment means it's taking that bit longer to mull said goings on...and by the time I've mulled, another bag load of things have happened! The "simplicity" of the drumming at Ingleton Falls at the weekend somehow made scribing about it easier, but the time has come to dig into the memory cells to capture what was another fabulous weekend and adventure - and look forward to the next!

Since my first "proper" WWOOFing experience in August, I feel like my eyes have been opened to a completely different way of approaching "living" (in particular housing arrangements and work) and so for the time being there's a since of living two parallel lives - my existing one, and the times I dip into this parallel universe of living in community, working the land and seeing the world through completely different "lenses". The chance to touch in with the organisation that facilitated this awakening at their AGM seemed like a complete no brainer (especially when it was being held at a fascinating looking community in southern Scotland) and so Adventure-Dumfries was born.

As with all adventures in the Golden Chariot I wanted to make the most of the places I was passing on my way up and back, and on this occasion that involved two National Trust properties and a Massage with a NO HANDer who I hadn't seen for a while but really enjoyed catching up with. The Massage was brilliant but, alas, I was somewhat underwhelmed by the two National Trust properties. I don't want to lay the blame on the less-than-summery-weather as I don't think that was it, and they certainly had merit in themselves. But I've got so used to falling completely in love with the properties I've visited to date that the fact these ones somehow just didn't tug the heart strings in the same way was a little disappointing. That said, I did meet some fabulous little owls in "art in the woods" which was fun.

But the reason for the trip: the AGM. Well, the gathering which had the AGM as part of it :) 

Which.

Was. 

Brilliant.

Hosted at a beautiful old country house which has been functioning as a community for 40 years (the building itself has parts which date back to the 16th century and a more recent "extension" which was built barely 30 or 40 years before the house went from being a residence to being a hospital - one which took consumptives, no less!) we were incredibly well looked after by our hosts. Not only were the beds comfy and the food fantastic (and they did me vegan puddings! Anywhere that does vegan pudding wins prizes as far as I'm concerned), but there were members of the community on "being available to answer questions, queries or offer general assistance" duty right the way through the day and fairly late on into the evening. It all fitted together so beautifully - fabulous.

Having the opportunity to meet and hear from others who'd attended the AGM (members of the board of directors, other WWOOFers like me, hosts, staff) gave me a real sense of the deeper ethos behind WWOOFing. I've known about WWOOFing for years, but when I first got involved at the beginning of the year my main drive was simply to get out and get my hands in the soil. Spending time listening to others' motivations, challenges and desires for WWOOF as an organisation has given me a much greater depth of understanding of this constantly evolving community I'm now a part of. And highlighted the divisions language can create: by specialising our knowledge it's very easy to get channelled down a track which may seem very different from the next person's view of the world, but in fact there are so many overlaps - it's just a case of taking a breath and looking for them.

Alongside the "business" I met a whole host of brilliant people, got to dance with lots of them at one of the best ceilidhs I've been to in ages (my general sense of "This is all BRILLIANT!" may well have contributed to that), took a barefoot walk to the loch and back early one morning (my feet certainly knew about it by the time I was home - a lot of the return journey was on a forestry-type track which was rather lacking in soft patches of grass for me to stepping-stone along), spent wonderful hours by the bonfire listening, chatting, gazing at the stars and even went on a late night adventure to find the sauna (which, sadly, wasn't in operation at the time but when I found it again in the daylight was an even more brilliant set up than I'd realised in the gloaming of the nighttime). AND I got expert advice on pulling up brambles! (It's all about loosening the roots then grabbing the plant by the chunk of roots under the surface, rather than just tugging the "above ground" bits. Who knew?!)

I've a sense of all these memories from the weekend still settling in and embedding themselves into different bits of my brain - but I'm definitely sold on WWOOF AGMs!

Can drumming get better than this?

It's been a full on few weeks in Tigland and so this weekend's drumming extravaganza crept up on me somewhat - but it's impact certainly won't be fading away like a wall flower any time soon! But because pictures (and video) say it so much better than words, to give you a flavour...




This weekend, thanks to some outstanding organisation on the part of our gigs team and one band member in particular, Batala Lancaster took to the hills and played a gig at Ingleton Falls in North Yorkshire.  For starters I hadn't clocked Ingleton was in North Yorkshire so passing the sign welcoming me to the county of my birth was pretty fun but nothing beat the gig itself.

We played an initial set at the car park (and the sun shone! ALL DAY! It was absolutely stunning) then loaded up our backpacks with our drums (cable ties and a bit of genius) to walk up to the target falls for our gig - Thornton Force. I'd never been to Ingleton before and the walk up there (about 1.5 miles) was absolutely beautiful - walking through sun dappled trees in gorgeous sunshine, with a babbling river alongside to keep us company. There are a number of different falls on the trail but having seen the location of sthe others, Thornton Force was definitely the best (and possibly the only!) choice for getting our feet wet.

Wandering up with fellow band members, chatting about this, that and the other and generally being stunned by the beauty of the surrounds and the amazing fortuity of the weather was a delight. And although a little awkward at times, having a drum on my back was pretty fun too.

But the gig itself...wow! Being a waterfall pool there were rocks and pebbles to navigate, and as you'll see from the video some band members snagged themselves a dry spot - but I have to say, being in the water suited me just fine. Even on the occasions I almost lost my balance (and the one occasion that I actually did and fell back into the water!) Although at the beginning of the gig I wasn't sure how our usual movements would work (stepping side to side, sometimes turning around, jumps and the like) once we'd settled in the movements just fitted in - although it was more swaying than stepping. The mis-balancing incidents were also somewhat courtesy of rather energetic dancing on my part - and the over balancing was watching a fellow band member chase after her beater and end up submerging herself (in the 4 inches of water...). It did, however, prove our organiser's statement at practice the previous week: "Don't worry if you fall in - your drum floats so just grab on to that!"

With the gig itself done a bunch of us ended up getting properly wet and swimming in the deeper part of the pool - VERY cold but totally worth it! Given how warm I'd got on the walk up I had every intention of cooling off properly before embarking on the descent - and splashing around in water is always good fun. As some people started to head back to the car park the excitement took a different turn as a young boy who'd been playing in the water had slipped and cracked his head on a rock. A combination of Team Batala (one of whom's a nurse, another had a good strong voice to cut through the hubbub asking if anyone had phone signal to call an ambulance, general concern and a certain Tigger-shaped entity who was one of two people who dashed up the side of the valley to get phone signal and call through to the emergency services) helped get him the attention he needed although it certainly changed the feel of the afternoon somewhat. With an ambulance called and first aid applied, I was then "casually invited" to go and put my trousers back on - when the call went out in need of signal to phone for an ambulance I'd just got out of the water so had gone up the hillside barefoot and sans trousers. All part of the nature of the beast, eh?

With the young lad being escorted to the ambulance (by this point he was walking along holding hands with his best friend so although scary at the time, as far as I know he's all set for a full recovery - and a very exciting story to tell his friends) I packed up my drum and ended up completing the trails (around 4 miles in total) with another band member and some others who'd come to enjoy the day. I must confess that by the time we got back to the car park I was looking forward to letting the car take the weight of my drum but having a chance to amble back through yet more beautiful countryside was fabulous.

The trails also had a number of "money trees" along the route, old trunks that people had pushed / hammered coins into which, at a distance, looked no different from any other log but up close were an amazing impromptu social art. There were even some little toadstool ones!

All in all it was a stunning day - I still haven't managed to find the words to capture just how awesome it was, but they'll come in time. Certainly a once-in-a-lifetime experience (I may play in a waterfall again - who knows! - but with such stunning weather?! The chances aren't that high!) and one that I'll remember for ever. Brilliant.

Oh, and this all came a day after we (Batala) played at the opening to the rugby league semi-final in Wigan! Batala - Hey!

Building a home (literally)

This has been a glorious weekend which involved a chunk of time doing just what I fancied. Now, there's still a long list of things "to do" which didn't all get blasted through, but I did do something I hadn't been expecting - which was veritably to devour Alternative Housebuilding by Mike McClintock. A book with a story, if ever there was one...

A dear old friend (who's also a very talented artist) is the reason I have my paws on this book. He'd been doing a lot of research and reading into alternative building techniques but having done so was clearing out before a move to a new abode - and had a STACK of books about self building and sustainable building alternatives which were looking for a new home. I pretty much cleared him out of said books (it being an area of interest to me as well) on the understanding that after I'd read and digested, I'd find a suitable new home for them where lots of people could benefit from them. I had an idea of where they may next end up, but after my August WWOOFing and a conversation with the community I was staying in, that seemed like the best place for them. And, given I'm hopefully due to be dropping in on that particular community again in October, I thought I'd best get cracking on reading these books before they move into their new new home! This particular book had started (or at least, spent part of it's life) in Phoenix Public Library - which is also a rather endearing synergy with other parts of my life at the moment.

The first book I'd taken a look at was more of a "when thinking about building your own home, these are all the things you should think about" book but Mr McClintock's was exactly what this weekend needed - great photos of different types of houses, a descriptive intro on each style of building, a discussion of some of the key considerations and then some really quite detailed "and then, to get things underway..." sections (which I skimmed at best). Sustainable / alternative building techniques is something which I've been dancing around for some time - it's one of those topics which I'm interested in, but seemingly not enough to do much about. So the fortuitous engagement with these books has been rather marvellous.

The biggest thing I've learnt from the book is that, actually, the idea of designing and building my own home isn't something which is top of my priority list. Don't get me wrong, the houses which were featured looked wonderful, and the idea of a house much "closer to nature" (built of wood, or even earth walls) sounds brilliant - as long as it's someone else's plan. I'd be more than happy to get stuck in with someone else's project, but starting off on my own with one doesn't really appeal. Which was a rather surprising - but very useful! - discovery to make.

It also got me thinking about cabling and piping and all the bits of the houses I've inhabited to date which I take for granted. Which I get experts in to deal with. And which are so "normal" they're often not even really seen for the brilliant inventions that they are. Reinforcing again - I appreciate these things, but have no particular desire to become the expert myself (I've toyed with the idea of doing an electrics or plumbing course - but have always ended up discovering I'd much rather be committing my time to something else).

And of course, I also got a very informative introduction to several Alternative housebuilding approaches:

Log Houses: think log cabin. Think house made of wood. Endearing to me, but somehow didn't really hook me.

Timber-frame houses: build a frame, fill in the gaps - this one I really didn't have a lot of interest in somehow

Pole Houses: stick some poles in the ground - build your house on them. Loved this one - something about not needing to chuck down a bunch of concrete foundations for the whole footprint of the house. And that when the house was no longer being a house the footprint left on the land was so much reduced.

Cordwood masonry: why use brings when you can use logs? This one, again, sounded like a goer for me - with lots of scope for creativity with the size, shape and dimensions of the logs used. I must confess that by this point my attention span was waning, but the idea definitely sank in.

Stone masonry: too much rock. Too much heavy rock. Not inspired. At least not for me personally.

Earth masonry: ooh, now we might be talking. Although the "moulds" to make the earth masonry in looked pretty serious!

Earth-sheltered houses: possibly very cool. Possibly not. I think I'd miss the light of being above ground. But who knows.

One of the really interesting aspects of the book was that in the descriptive sections of each the author really emphasised the importance of feeling excited by the technique settled upon (either for self build or if engaging contractors to do the actual building). I think the book has furnished me with a greater awareness of construction options and will open my eyes as I see different buildings. Definitely worth a read if you're thinking of self-build at all.

"Holiday" doesn't even come close

Last week I took a week off. From work. From my day to day. From my usual "normality". And it was utterly marvellous. What's been most fascinating about it has been quite how much has emerged from what was "just" 10 days away.

The main focus of the holiday was to go "WWOOFing" at a community in Shropshire. As chance would have it they were having their annual mini-festival the weekend I was due to be arriving so I ended up partaking in that. In many ways it was pretty tough turning up not knowing anyone, while also knowing in amongst the people in the field were folk who actually lived there full time. However, in a rather "worlds colliding" way I'd contacted a local couchsurfer when I was looking at different options for accommodation on Saturday night  - and she had already been invited to the party, so she and her boyfriend were kind enough to meet me on arrival and introduce me to a bunch of people. Not only that, turns out she'd just processed my booking for a permaculture course in October. Genius.

But the party  / festival was very much an aside. The real gold was in the gardening I got to do. Monday to Friday I spent most of the days out in the gardens, weeding, picking soft fruits (I barely even made a dent - there was SO MUCH!), doing oddments of pruning to clear pathways that had become very overgrown by abundant vegetative growth and a little bit of clearing and shifting of stuff. I got stung by nettles, scratched by brambles, thistled by thistles and bitten by beasties (including a particularly avid bitey ant) and it was utterly wonderful. I even got my first blood blister while being overly zealous with a chunk of wood I was splitting with the magical log splitter (which attaches to a tractor for power) - which is providing to be a rather entertaining addition to my hands, mainly because I keep thinking I've got one nail with nail varnish on. 

And did I mention a lot of this I got to do in a genuine walled garden? I was (and still am) so in love with that particular part of the grounds, more than anywhere else. There's something magical about walled gardens.

In and of itself the gardening was brilliant, but there being a community of 12 adults + 6 children (plus visitors minus members who were away) around and about both in the gardens and in the house, as well as to share dinner with (which was always brilliant and sharing a meal with up to 20 others is ace) and often other meals just added so much. It's all well and good doing stuff, but it's the people who really make it or break it.

Until now I'd been very hesitant of community living and yet I was suitably impressed - and enamoured - of how functional this particular community was. Of course, it any group there will be highs and lows but my nightmare scenario of it all being lows just didn't appear. So that was quite an eye opener too.

Overall, the whole week felt like I'd dropped into a parallel universe. And a universe I REALLY enjoyed being in. I completely lost myself in the gardening, slowing down, calming my mind (without trying to, just as a product of being focused on something so, literally, earthy) and just enjoying it. But the most fascinating thing about this parallel universe is that, quite simply, it exists. Speaking to people while I was there (visitors and members) reminded me of all the different ways of living there are. Reminding me that although I live in a certain way, it certainly isn't the only way for humanity, and it's also now the only way for me.

Needless to say there's plenty of food for thought in that thar sentence alone.

There's also a sense of "Oh, and another thing..." about this mere 10 days I spent away from "normal life". And yet those "other things" feel like they're waiting for another blog post at another time. So wait they shall - as I wander home across the sands of the wonderous, fabulous Morecambe bay.*

*In case anyone's jumped to the wrong conclusion, I'm talking about the bit of "enclosed" sand which is exposed between the Stone Jetty and the Battery. I haven't taken to cross-bay walks on my own, or, indeed, in company!

Revisiting an old haunt - Burton Manor

Driving back after being part of a Massage stand at a village show in North Wales yesterday, I unexpectedly found myself on a rather familiar stretch of motorway. Although normally I was coming from the other direction and on every previous occasion had been driven (rather than driving myself), the signs towards Hoylake were unmissable. In a matter of seconds my intention to visit Dunham Massey (which had been a rather non-committal intention) was ditched in favour of returning to an old haunt - Burton Manor. I hadn't been since December 2010 but had been thinking of it recently and after a non-starter trip in May, today, unexpectedly, was the day for my return.

I was introduced to Burton Manor by the NO HANDS Mastery Programme in 2007. For 4 years I came here four, sometimes five, times a year, seeing the seasons and gardens change - and seeing the grounds at what felt like every time of the day and night! The days were long (I remember one morning getting up at 6am to walk the length of one of the lawns incredibly slowly, before our 7am Massage; and the late nights were innumerable!) and filled with learning on every level. But the privilege of coming to such a beautiful place and having the gardens to walk in was amazing.

In April 2011 the Manor closed (it had been an adult education residential centre since 1948) and since then the buildings have remained closed while negotiations to sell it (it's currently owned by Liverpool City Council but there have been ongoing negotiations with the University of Chester over the purchase). In the mean time, having secured significant funding and with a team of dedicated volunteers  the gardens have been cared for with several features (notably the walled garden and glass house, and the restored ice house) now open to the public which, when I was last here, were in a very poor state of repair and inaccessible to visitors like me.

The telltale sign that the building is out of action comes in the form of the ivy over the grand face that overlooks the formal gardens. Previously a feature, it's now encroaching on the windows and doorways, in some cases obscuring the glass altogether. There's a sense of the ivy beginning to encase the building and although not overgrown in the way derelict buildings are (and with the juxtaposition of the cared for gardens) the building does feel "quiet". Interestingly, I could quite imagine a group coming out of a door, or sitting down to a meal in the dining room. All the furniture seems still to be in place, laid out almost as if a course is in progress. And yet - no course. No meals. No activity in the house.

Knowing the building has been closed for these past few years makes the change in the gardens (which are generally in a better condition now than they were when I was here before - the main exception being the central borders in the boxes of hedges to either side of the pond which have gone to seed) particularly poignant.

Burton Manor will always hold a special place in my heart and is filled with memories of people, laughter and tears, revelations and achievements. Coming at the end of such an amazing week away somehow feels like exactly the right time for this visit - when or whether I'll be back again remains to be seen but the ghosts it holds for me are certainly happy ones which I'd be happy to revisit again should the opportunity arise.

Hooking into Resources

The big theme at the moment is the power of the mind. Of being in charge from within - rather than looking for change from without. Deciding how I want to respond and being OK with that. There seem to be so many opportunities just opening up with such ease at the moment when they've previously seemed impossible or incredibly hard work. It really does seem to be all downing to timing - and that's timing on my own internal clock, rather than anyone elses.

Another theme is gratitude for the brilliance that I'm party to so much of the time. This week I went to my first belly dancing class in YEARS (I've only ever been to one before and that was about 10 years ago - but I enjoyed it then and have been looking for the chance to hook into a regular class since then) and loved it - plus had a great chat to the teacher. This dance studio is barely 60 seconds walk from where I get to work these days. Ace. I went along to drumming practice on Monday and got to play brilliant rhythms with brilliant people. Indulged in some cinema one evening and got lost in a huge pile of cheesey Americanisms - escapism all the way. And all following having hosted my parents for a couple of days giving them a bit of a mini-break and me the chance to catch up with them without having to spend hours travelling to visit them!

On the gratitude theme, it's difficult, if not impossible, to describe exactly how much I love my water butt right now. It's BRILLIANT. I've lived (some of the time at least) in this house for almost 5 years (wow!) and now, courtesy of my water butt, I'm harvesting rain water which I'm using to water my plants - and even flush my toilet with. My plants are enjoying it as the water isn't treated, and to me it makes them even more "low impact". Yes, I'm having to carry said toilet flushing water up 3 flights of stairs, but still - every "flush" which is courtesy of the water butt (there's something rather poetic about toilets and water butts) saves 10 - 15 L of water needing to be cleaned and piped to my house, just to be flushed away again. Plus it's making my house into even more of a living gym...

Admittedly, finally getting the drain pipe diverter installed has been the cherry on the cake with said water butt - knowing that it'll fill right up without me having to go down and play "empty to the bucket into the water butt because you haven't sorted the diverter yet" every time it's rained is awesome. In fact, it's almost magic. And has cemented in me the idea that cunning engineering of readily available resources is totally where it's at.

I've also been enjoying the fruits of (other people's) allotments this week - primarily potatoes and courgettes from two different friends. (And my own courgette plants seem, finally, to be bringing forth their own courgettes! Whoop!) Cooking meals with such soil-to-plate food is so inspiring - I'm still working on maximising yields from my internal space (there are some really interesting vertical growing systems I've seen but the engineering of those is somewhat beyond my current engineering desires! For now, at least) but even then I've got herbs growing, plenty of spinach, some tomato plants which are going bananas (although may not yield fruit as I'm not sure anything will have pollinated them) and some asparagus plants merrily growing from seed in preparation for about 4 years time for harvesting. Long termism, see?

And as I prepare for a week away, I'm trialling using the hoards of cardboard I have in my basement as a moisture retainer for my indoor plants - using it to protect the soil from direct sunlight (and hopefully reducing evaporation direct from the soil) and also to hold water which can keep the plants going rather than over-doing it on the watering.

So often it's a case simply of recognising the resources to realise they really are all around. And I'm currently loving going through the "recognition" phase :)

The Sea, Perspective, and Luddite-like leanings

I am incredibly fortunate: I live by the sea. I walk along the seafront twice a day during the week. Sometimes more often on the weekends that I'm here. And I think I have one of the most beautiful water landscapes around - an ever changing sea and sky, with the South Lakeland hills as the backdrop. Stunning.

And not only do I get to revel in the beauty of this scene, I also find it can transport me to an incredibly "unbusy" headspace. Meditative is the word - when I'm walking the shoreline, my steps slowed by the water lapping around my ankles, my mind somehow empties of worries and cares and leaves me simply marvelling at the awesome (in the dictionary sense of the word) beauty of the planet. Recently low-tide has coincided with my walk to and from work - which is wonderful, but I've noticed a feeling of missing the sea. Missing the big mass of water being up close. Feeling like the channel is a long way away. But it'll come round again and I'll have the water crashing against the wall as I walk along - I just never realised, or connected with the fact, that I missed it before. Must be turning into a proper seaside dweller...

This connection with the sea helps put some of my more niggling worries into perspective. The echoes of them remain, but they're not shouting quite so much now. A new look on the question of "am I doing the right thing?" (right now, in general, with my life...) is providing a rather fresh perspective and although I'm still not sure of the answer to that question, I'm feeling more comfortable getting on with what I'm doing - if only for now. Knowing that now's the only time I can really deal with.

But! The Luddite-like leanings of the title are not to be forgotten, nor ignored. Luddite is possibly too strong, but I have a definitely tug in two different directions - one is an absolute amazement at the advances of science, engineering, analysis, thought and creativity. As a population this accumulation of knowledge is phenomenal - and I find somewhat daunting. I've just been reading the most recent issue of National Geographic which had articles both on high end science (notably an article on the sequencing of a not-human, not-Neanderthal but-definitely-something-related genome from a fragment of bone, thousands of years old) and a traditional hay growing lifestyle which has persisted for millenia in Romania. One all about advances and pushing the boundaries of knowledge. The other using tried and tested methodologies to farm in a sustainable way - and the only way the area can support. Of course, it's not as clear cut as that, but the contrast is still stark.

My own life started as fairly academically focused, reading Natural Sciences at university. Then it was into a job in a national level government department and then on to (via a number of other diversionary routes) a position with a management and IT consultancy firm. All along I felt like I wasn't the one with the expert knowledge, but a midwife of sorts (generally of a very junior level) and for some time now I have been working for a company that is focused on one of the oldest healing therapies (if not the oldest healing therapy) on the planet - Touch. The simplicity of Touch is mind blowing (particularly given I'm not simply talking about subjective mind blowing, but scientifically researched mind blowing) and yet for many people it's fallen completely off the radar as an option, other than for "pampering". I'm absolutely clear that the "stood the test of time" things aren't better or worse than the "cutting edge of technology and thought" things - they're simply different. But seeing the differences can be somewhat overwhelming - we're all humans living in the same "age" and yet using our minds in such different ways.

I find the juxtaposition incredibly inspiring, but also at times paralysing. Just one of those things about being human, methinks.

The Jungle at Chez Tigs - a photographic summary

This is a fairly long and rambling blog about the ins and outs of my growings at home - in many ways I've used it as my own personal growing diary so if gardening's not your thing, you may want to skim / skip this one!

Sunday lunchtime
Today was a day without plans but with lots of potential - and after breakfast on the beach I fancied "getting on and doing" - and what took my fancy first of all was playing with my various plants at home. And having played with them, I fancied doing a bit of a summary!

The biggest challenge is knowing where to start. With the plants that have been here the longest? From the top of the house down? From the bottom of the house up? Inside to out? Outside to in? I have a true delight with my house in that I experience it in different ways - coming in through different doors, different "journeys" through the house on different days and at different times, and even things like temporarily forgetting part of the jungle (in this case, the outside plants at the front - how I could forget those when I see them every time I come in and out of the house I have no idea!). And I'm still at a loss as to where to start...so I'll just start and see where it takes me.

Spider Plants

One of two tubs that "came
with the house" up on the
second floor landing

So, spider plants are a bit marmite-esque in people's response to them - folk seem either to love 'em or hate 'em. But the truth of the matter for me was that they were the only thing that survived the neglect any plants in my home were subjected to when I wasn't living here full time.

Most rooms have at least one
spider plant if nothing else!

They also seemed to work in some kind of symbiosis with one of the house plants that was here when I moved in (the stick in the photo on the left) which resurrected itself quite successful...although has since given up the ghost again. But given their seeming ability to grow through any amount of neglect (and mainly desertification) makes them somewhat of a staple in my house.

I love these shelves but have
been on such a clear out that
I don't yet have gazillions of
books to fill them - so spider
plants it is

In addition, while I'm still cultivating other more "useful" (edible etc.) plants, they're still doing their photosynthesising and bringing a bit of (plant) life to rooms which otherwise would be empty of such growing.

A useful spider-plant
nook in the hallway

I occasionally take to composting the odd one (another fine use for spider plants - although I'm not sure of the quality of compost they produce...) but the general plan at the moment is to cultivate some more large-ish plants which I may then be able to use as ornamental plants at work - while they're small, spider plants just look a little pathetic!

I must confess I also do rather like the way they cascade from high shelves and the like so for now, the spider plants will be staying. In if you're a spider plant hater, there will be a few more creeping into later photos but they'll be hiding amongst other plants - so do persevere!

Currently cropping...with the spider plants out of the way, on to my current grand success! I got myself some troughs which I had always planned on using as salad window boxes and which are coming on a treat - and also my main source of leafy greens at the moment. That all three of the said troughs are up on the second floor simply adds to their healthiness - the odd bit of running up and down the stairs to furnish myself with some spinach or lettuce doesn't go amiss!

My plant identification skills are pretty shocking at the moment (I'm working on it...slowly!) but when I originally planted the troughs they had a combination of lettuce, spinach, perpetual spinach and rocket in them. At least - I think they did!

The lettuce and spinach have been growing well for a while now and I'm beginning to really see the difference between the perpetual spinach and the "normal" spinach as well. However, the rocket was nowhere in sight.

There's one "weed" (for weed read "plant I haven't yet identified and therefore don't know what to use it for so for the time being am eliminating it to focus on the things I do know how to use") which I think the troughs picked up seeds for when they were outside (in anticipation of the drip trays I'd ordered for them) and which have been particularly fertile - and are now merrily composting.

Thinning out those has definitely helped the target-edible-leaves but today I attacked one of the troughs with a plastic fork (I don't have a small thinning out tool - but said fork worked rather well) and potted on some of the plants that were crowding out the others. I'll be intrigued to see how this trough does compared to the others but in addition to having a whole bunch of plants which hopefully do better with more space, I also found my first rocket plant! Hurrah!

Spinach and lettuce line the ledge in
front of the largest window, with 4 little
tomato plants just starting out to the
left (oh, and a spider plant, of course)

I've also hit my weeks-long target of having exhausted my pot supply - this will not in any way prevent me from cracking on with new projects (my favourite tricks of turning plastic water bottles into pots and using empty tetrapaks as drip trays will soon net me more containers I'm sure) but has been a bit a milestone. And milestones deserve celebration - so huzzah huzzah :)

A related milestone, of filling every window ledge of space, is still in progress and it looks like my plan of having mini shelves going up the side of windows may be coming to fruition sooner than I'd anticipated which may put that milestone somewhat further off again - but increases the jungle-potential rather dramatically which is very exciting.

My kitchen window ledge - not the
sunniest spot in the house but enough
light to keep things ticking over - and
the site of many a carrot seed sprouting!
The low tray is home to some thyme
seeds, then there's a lettuce plant, a
spinach and a pot I planted with "some
seeds" (I knew what they were at the time.
Not any more) and which keeps showing
signs of some sprouting but never
quite coming to fruition...

One thing Grow the House Down is really bringing home for me is the desireability for starting early. In my case, early may mean several years as the plan is to get a bunch of perennials going so when I find bits of open-air space I could use I've got established plants I could put straight in. But it also means my expectations for harvesting this year are very modest given many of the plants had their growing seasons rather limited by when I actually planted them (the tomatoes being a case in point).

The second herb pot getting
some growing in (the other
tub has purple sprouting
broccoli and carrot seedlings)

Another "currently cropping" are my herb pots. I have two (one which is in my kitchen ready for use and another which lives in a sunnier spot to do some more vigorous growing - and then they get swapped over) and although I'm in an ongoing battle with some whitefly, regular spraying with soapy water seems to be helping a lot. Parsley and chives are the main staples in the pot, with some spinach and coriander doing the best they can. Snip snip and the garnish is done = genius.

A whole variety - tomatoes, mint, spinach
aloe vera, jasmine, geranium and coriander

Other ground-floor growings While we're down in the kitchen seems like a good time to look at the living room and back room window ledges. I love having lots of plants in my living room and the geranium plant feels like one of my "oldest friends" when it comes to plants (I somehow don't have the same affection for the spider plants). My Mum got it for me when I was in Halifax and it was one of the few plants that really thrived over there - and being in a hanging basket makes it even better. The way it cascades over the side is wonderful. I'm still not convinced about the vigorous growing potential of the windows on the front of the house (which is north-east facing) but plants are able to survive which is a step in the right direction and the jasmine seems to be enjoying itself. I'm looking forward to putting some supports (possibly just some string) in to train it upwards. Space for lots more on this window ledge, too...

From left: purple sprouting broccoli,
first year asparagus plants and a
couple of cucumber plants

 The room at the back on the ground floor (which was originally a shop and still has the - rather dilapidated and currently boarded up - shop front) has until recently been the workshop for a local part-time guitar maker. Life's changed for him so he's moved out but I've yet to decide what to do with the room. But in the mean time, there are window ledges to be used!

My solo aubergine seedling, plus more
asparagus and purple sprouting broccoli

I'm cultivating a whole series of asparagus plants - I purchased some year old roots which in theory should have rehydrated and been growing away, but every single one I planted failed. Which was a shame - but is making the delicate fronds of my grown-from-seed asparagus even more exciting.

Next up: my back yard. For a long time this was the focus of my growing efforts because it had the highest chance of getting at least *some* watering (in the form of rain) in my absence. The bushiest greenery you'll see at the far end of the frame is a miniature tree I bought years ago which has continued to grow and be small. Along the back wall you can just make out three treelings - on the far left, a greengage that was a gift, then two apples. I think these are likely to end up at my office building next year, but for now they're merrily growing leaves and having a whale of a time.

Many of the plants that were also in the frame (an old divan base which just gave me a structure to start with) have now moved to the front yard or further afield, but there's still one lone gooseberry bush awaiting a new home, again, probably next year now. However, the other two highlights of the yard are my water butt (which I love - but note the not-yet-finished nature of its connection to the drainpipe top right- it's not actually lined up directly beneath the pipe due to the location of the drain in the ground and my plan for finishing off the piping) and two rather innocuous looking white tubs in the left foreground. Growing plants in containers is all well and good but fertiliser is going to be important - and this weekend I harvested myself some comfrey and nettles from the wonderful Middlewood Trust  and have started the festering process (given the smell it creates it can only be described as festering) of the mix with a healthy dose of water which, fingers crossed, will result in some great vegan low impact liquid fertiliser. That was one of this mornings jobs so I'm still feeling particularly pleased for having got it done (it's been on the list for quite some time!).

The front yard has, sadly, been subject to some vandalism so although the bathtub should be thriving and full of strong plants, it's actually just hanging on with much smaller plants than I'd hoped for. It's been a real disappointment that someone (or a group of someones) has decided to make my plants the target of their repeated vandalism (it's one of the reason I've got the apple trees in my back yard:  one of them had been pulled out of the soil and dumped exposing the roots to the air and leaving them to dry out. I was fairly convinced that would have well and truly killed it, but I try popping it back into some soil in a rather more protected spot and it's come back to life rather well) but I've decided just to get on with it and hope they cease. It's brought home the immense vulnerability of plants, even fairly established ones, but will not put a stop to the growing!

The part of the front yard which is down a set of steps has, to date, not been prone to the vandalism attacks the bathtub has experienced and has a range of plants growing, including broadbeans, some more chives, some of the ubiquitous purple sprouting broccoli, carrots, courgette, gooseberry and blackcurrant (which has some little green fruits on - hurrah!).

I've recently also added some plants in a very sheltered, but surprisingly sunny (in these summer mornings, at least) alcove between the steps and one of the windows - seen here along with my feet (a rather fun hark back to my photographs from Bolivia where my feet became a bit of an intentional theme...)

Which brings us to our penultimate location - my bathroom window ledge. The little cactus (one of two cacti I have - the second being a housewarming present from a friend which is down on my kitchen window ledge) and the "money tree" are two plants I wasn't quite sure where they should live - so they keep the toilet roll happy. The jasmine was a rather impulsive purchase (along with the other two I got) but when in flower brings a lovely distinctive smell to the room. Which is all rather nice.

And finally - the second floor landing. In many ways I thought I'd start the tour here, this being the first set of plants I generally see of a morning - and the last I see before going to bed (I do have a spider plant in my bedroom, but it somehow rarely catches my attention).

I love this view as I'm coming down from my room - a light, airy space with plenty of plants, the penguin mobile my sister got me for Christmas and my wonderful Whatnot. And no, it's not that I can't remember the name for the piece of furniture - it's actually called a Whatnot. Brilliant. This is one of the first pieces of furniture I ever bought - I think Whatnots are brilliant and when I saw one for sale very cheaply back in my teens I bought it. For a long time it lived in my bedroom at my parents' house, then on delivery to Morecambe it became my "stuff next to the shoe rack and coats" shelf but somehow didn't quite suit there. It then got relegated to the back room while I worked out where it should live - until it found its new home.

As odd as it may sound, I feel like this is the spot my Whatnot was bought for - over a decade after its initial purchase. I've never seen another Whatnot like it, it folds flat and just has a lovely sense of space to it - and fits perfectly in the corner of my landing. As you'll see there's still plenty of space to fill with more plants - although it doesn't get much direct sunlight (plenty of brightness, just not sunshine per se). I love it.

The two plant-jobs I started with today (which rather multiplied once I got started) where starting off the liquid fertiliser and potting on 11 little asparagus plants - who are now merrily living on the Whatnot, along with a cyclamen from my Mum, some more spider plants and another aloe plant (which has survived well but hasn't particularly grown - another result, I suspect, of my rather absent-minded care regime).

And that is the current state of play of the Jungle. It's very much a juvenile jungle (in fact, jungle's probably not the word for it at all, but that's the "end-game" picture I have in my mind) but it's terribly exciting and makes me happy.

If you have any tips on any of the plants I've mentioned - or, indeed, any suggestions for other edible plants that do particularly well indoors - please do let me know!