Growing veggies is like having a new baby

May 20 2009 By Kelly-Rose Bradford, Surrey Herald

We've been busy growing veggies, Boy and I, in a postage stamp sized plot in our back garden. Although very much the thing to do at the moment, and altogether very trendy, growing vegetables, I've discovered, in its early days is rather like having a new baby.

You worry about them endlessly, check on them constantly, and agonise over whether they are getting enough food and water and, most importantly, growing properly.

Then, just like children, they sprout up at an alarming rate, become slightly out control and take on a life of their own - and at that point you begin to realise they are actually quite hard work and wonder why you started it all in the first place...

So it's with some relief that Boy has more or

less taken charge of our Good Life style endeavours and as a result knows far more about growing your own than I do. With worrying levels of seriousness and dedication, he knows exactly what has been watered, what needs weeding and what's growing where. And having studiously read all the seed packets, he is something of an authority of when to plant out and when crops will appear, how much feed they might need and whereabouts to position them for optimum growth.

His keenness is bordering on obsession, and it is largely down to his skills and dedication that we have our small, but perfectly formed plot of potatoes, chard, tomatoes, strawberries, a chilli plant and broad beans.

Which isn't bad going for a sixyear-old who, this time last year, would not step near a plant or flower for fear of

being attacked by swarms of bees. In fact, until all this growing lark began, persuading him to spend any time in the garden was a fruitless task - if it wasn't insects getting his goat, it was his fear of neighbouring dogs leaping the fence and biting him.

I suspect that if I had had sole responsibility, the patch would be little more than a glorified cat litter tray interspersed with a crop of wilting and nibbled leaves.

This is because although I am very keen to have a stab at self-sufficiency and reap the fruits of my toil and labour, I have always pretty much viewed the garden as being nothing more than the thing that stands between me and the shed at the end of it.

So where Boy is getting this apparent green fingered prowess from is anybody's guess, as Percy Thrower I am most certainly not.

A statement which in itself stands as a good indicator of just how out of touch I am with all things horticultural, as a quick Google search has alerted me to the fact he died in 1988. Although perhaps on that basis I am selling myself short, as my gardening skills are quite obviously a little more up-to-date and productive than his...