Spring on the allotment

Before taking up allotment gardening, I was scarcely out-of-doors and, because of this, was unsurprisingly oblivious to climate. Be it the daily weather, or the turning seasons, neither drew my housebound attention. Then I got the plot, and found myself newly aware of them both – more and more so, in fact – so that like a great many other gardeners these days, the one seasonal change that I just can't wait for is winter to spring. Well, 'what goes around comes around', and at last the spring's arrived!

I first found my allotment by enquiring at the local council. This is always the best starting point for aspiring plotholders with no idea where to turn, since the original Allotment Act's empowered each council to find suitable allotment land within its own area. Most – if by no means all – of the nation's plots have been owned and run by councils ever since.

In my particular case, living in the London Borough of Camden, my enquiry eventually brought me to their main allotment site at Fitzroy Park in Highgate. This occupies an odd corner of that range of hills, the nearest high ground you reach if travelling northward from the centre of town, across the crowded floodplain of the River Thames.

Indeed, such splendid views over the sprawling metropolis are afforded from these hills, that they were jealously guarded by London's land-owning aristocracy back in Victorian times. Then, the hugely expanding imperial city roared on by, taking a few big bites, but leaving much of these northern uplands behind. Known today as Hampstead Heath, it's a weird, marvellous relic of a less-populated, quieter and more rural past.

Fitzroy Park itself lies on the eastern fringes of this unique green space. It certainly is a fine walk, this narrow road, running downhill from Highgate Village to the plots, lined with giant woodland trees – limes and conkers. To many local people, it's 'the last country lane in London'. Whether it really deserves such a flattering description is a good question. Judging by the spring blooms that pop up along its verges, 'it is and it ain't', I would say, since here we find an affecting mix, of both wild and garden flowers.