‘My grandfather’s allotment was A PLACE OF MAGIC’
Alan Titchmarsh remembers taking his first steps into the natural world
Itreasure this photograph of me with my grandfather: it brings back my very first memories of being in nature, engulfed by things that grow. It was taken in 1950 – I was around a year old, and we were on his allotment, down by the river in Ilkley in the Yorkshire Dales. I have vivid memories of being there as a child, not least because I was captivated by the magic of the place, and the array of plants he grew. You can see the sweet peas climbing up the beanpoles, and there are Cadbury’s cocoa tin lids hanging from bits of string to frighten the sparrows off.
I remember he had the classiest support for his blackberry bush for miles – a brass bedstead. This was five years after the war had finished, and my grandparents must have decided to go for a more modern headboard. They’d put the old one to good use, and I can still see those lovely shiny brass knobs sticking out among the blackberries.
There was a sunken old tank on the allotment too, which he kept filled with soot water to spray on the cabbages to keep the caterpillars away. As a result, all the savoys would be covered in a black film, which my grandmother would have to spend ages washing off. I suppose it worked well as an insecticide, but as a committed modern-day organic gardener, the thought of it now fills me with quiet horror.
Much of my childhood was spent out in the Yorkshire air. I was always looking for bluebells, or collecting frogspawn, and I used to love going blegging (blackberrying) with my parents on golden Sunday afternoons in autumn. It was a life very much in tune with nature, and I felt this special kind of contentment, especially when I was on the allotment with my grandfather. He was such a down-to-earth, gentle character.
I think I inherited some of his qualities, but I didn’t have much confidence growing up. I don’t really know why – I suppose
I was brought up to blend in rather than stand out. Good manners were always very important – and I’ve been incredibly grateful for that – but I wasn’t really encouraged to push out. There was a sort of pressure to conform – it was well intended, but I was always encouraged to be normal and ordinary. I left school at 15 with one O level in
Art, and the only thing I knew was that I wanted, desperately, to be a gardener.
I became an apprentice, and it wasn’t until a few years later, when I started studying horticulture for my City and Guilds on day release, that things began to change for me. Quite suddenly,
I found myself at the top of the class
– and I realised for the first time that I was really good at something. I turned my face towards the sun, towards what appealed to me, and I began to shine. It was a moment of revelation – I’d discovered the thrill of pushing outwards and upwards, and I haven’t looked back.
I’m so lucky to have found a wonderful career doing what I’m best at – and much of it can be traced right back to my grandfather. I’m very grateful to him for that. In a way, what he did for me is symbolised in this photograph. Here he is, taking me by the hand, and saying, ‘This is the real world’. He’s leading me to a wonderful life spent growing things.
I may not have cocoa tin lids (I use a fruit cage to keep the birds off) and I have modern supports for my fruit – not a brass bedstead. But the pleasures of gardening, of being at one with nature, feel as delightful today as they did as a young lad, all those decades ago.
‘I loved hunting for blackberries on golden autumn afternoons’