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In the Garden: September

September 1st, 2010 | 1 Comment
by Faye, IWM Marketing Team

Ah, autumn – ‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’ in the language of Keats, but we’re all a little too busy for spouting poetry; far more concerned with sprouting potatoes! Ah-hem. Think our rhyming needs a bit of work, but let’s let the crops speak for themselves…

Gulp.

When we were tending our tomatoes and sunning our strawberries in June and July, we were kind of under the illusion that it was all about pottering around in the garden; that we could don a straw hat, wander around with our retro watering can and, after a few weeks of said wandering and watering, we’d see results! Plump juicy fruit, ripe for picking!

Long into the summer did we linger in this state of green-fingered high spirits – sowing and planting, thinning and watering, even some light weeding – but now harvest time is here, and, well, the proof is in the pudding, or the pie, or the soup.

But hold your horses, don’t light the stove just yet. First, there’s work to do…

Potato lifting. (This is hard.)

We refer to the superior knowledge of the Allotment and Garden Guide for September 1945, which seems to suggest we can bask in a moment of smugness if we manage to pull off – or up – a full store for when the nights start drawing in. To quote: ‘Assuming the weather has not been too unkind and the pests not too troublesome, he [the gardener] can smile at the abundance that will be his squirrel’s store for the late autumn and winter days that lie ahead’.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Putting the cart before the horse. Firstly, a fortnight before you want to lift your spuds from the ground, you need to cut off the tops – the Ministry of Agriculture advises having a bonfire for these stems ‘if there is the slightest suspicion of blight’.

Two weeks later…’choose a fine day’ for lifting. (That’s official government advice, by the way – don’t venture into the garden in the rain as you need to leave the potatoes on the ground for four or five hours to dry. Plus you’ll be soggy and miserable!) So, by this stage, we’ve had a bonfire and done some gardening in the sun – slightly sore backs, but quite good fun – but now comes the storing.

By far the easiest method is to store your potatoes in boxes or barrels, lined with old newspapers to protect against frost. But if you’ve got more potatoes than Potato Pete himself (see In the Kitchen: February) would know what to do with, then you may need to build a clamp, as outlined in the pages below. We’re afraid we can’t show you one we made earlier, but if anyone is inspired to create their very own potato clamp, we’d love to see the finished result! You’ll need lots of straw, spadefuls of soil and oodles of patience, but, if you get it right, you’ll be baking, roasting, boiling, mashing and frying potatoes all through the winter. Don’t forget to share your favourite potato recipes with us too!

Carrots and Cat’s Eyes

August 27th, 2010 | 2 Comments
by Carl, Duxford Exhibitions Manager

The story is often told. Famous British night-fighter ace John ‘Cat’s Eyes’ Cunningham was a very successful combat pilot, shooting down at least 20 enemy aircraft. Rather than admit to the existence of certain technological advances that gave him and his colleagues the edge, it was put about that eating carrots gave him the ability to see the enemy in the pitch black. It was a win-win situation: the Germans could be kept in the dark (pun intended!) about the secret radio direction finding kit (later known as radar) that helped night-fighter pilots ‘home in’ on their targets, and it would boost the consumption of cheap, healthy home-grown vegetables by kids eager to emulate their heroes on the rationed home front.

Wherever possible, carrots were used as an alternative snack - carrots instead of fruit, carrots instead of lollies, carrots instead of sweets. And Dr Carrot – the character the Ministry of Food invented as a chum for Potato Pete - was brought in to encourage Britain’s carrot crusade (there was 100,000 tons to shift!) and perpetuate the myth that they help you see in the dark!

During the Blitz in late 1940 and early 1941, Cunningham and his radar operator ‘Jimmy’ Rawnsley made a perfect team. Rawnsley worked the on-board radar, and directed his pilot towards the target, where Cunningham’s skills (described by one interviewer as an ability to ‘think in three dimensions … He thought out his strategy just like a chess match’) could be brought to bear. Hmmm, not a carrot in sight! Sorry, Dr Carrot!

Cunningham’s success was actually based not on vast quantities of everyone’s favourite orange root vegetable, but on the scientific brilliance of some often-forgotten boffins and good old-fashioned team work - as well as the cool courage and skill of Cunningham, his crewmates and their colleagues. As he admitted himself: ‘A fighter crew was at the top of a pyramid, ground control radar and searchlights at the base, and up there an aircraft with two chaps in it. Unless they were competent and compatible, all that great effort was wasted.’

Cunningham, who hated his wartime nickname, later said ‘It would have been easier had the carrots worked.’

Beware of the Pigs!

August 18th, 2010 | 3 Comments
by Faye, IWM Marketing Team

Last week we met Anthea Hanscomb at the Wartime Farm; Anthea was a farmhand in the 1940s (read ‘Down at the Farm’ for more info). We wanted to find out how Anthea tended to the animals and, among the tales of harrowing and hay-making, we discovered - as much as we’re committed to the principles of living off the land - why we definitely won’t be keeping pigs in our back garden. And it’s nothing to do with pig swill (which Anthea mixed from boiled vegetables and bran toppings - probably not one of the more tasty wartime recipes we’ve shared!).

On the Hertfordshire farm Anthea worked on, the farmer bought a dozen little pigs to sell on. He asked Anthea to come and meet the little pigs (of about 12 weeks old), who lived in the shed at the back of the barn, and it became her job to feed them. Sounds simple enough, but one thing Anthea didn’t anticipate was the piglets’ fondness for mischief!

Image of pigs

She explains: ‘Little pigs have a sense of humour, and a sense of fun, and there is always a leader. I very quickly discovered that one thing they all thought was terribly funny was to catch me round the back of my knees so that I crumpled up and fell flat in the straw. They did that, and then they would squeal with delight. I mean, they would shriek their heads off; they thought it was hysterically funny!’

So, Anthea came up with a plan for feeding time*: she opened the back door to the pigs’ shed and called them all out into the orchard. They followed her, and then she turned on her heel and ran back to the shed as fast as she could, the lead pig chasing her all the way. As she tried to shut the door behind her, the pig got his head caught and he screamed and squealed.

*Don’t try this at home.

We don’t know how Anthea felt (apart from mightily relieved when the farmer found a buyer for the little pigs), but we think the moral of this story is stick to tomatoes. Next week, we’ll be resuming normal service: getting back to our roots in the gardens of Britain.

In the meantime, you can meet well-behaved, non-squealing pigs - plus a whole host of other animals - at the Wartime Farm, 19-22 August, 11.00am – 4.00pm.

Thanks to Anthea Hanscomb for talking to us about her wartime experiences down on the farm - we loved hearing about them! To find out more about Anthea’s life on Tuffs Farm, read her book, There’s a Bat in my Bedroom, published by Melrose Books.

Down at the Farm

August 13th, 2010 | 2 Comments
by Faye, IWM Marketing Team

The Wartime Farm has arrived!

And while we were busy learning how to care for the animals – goats, pigs, sheep, rabbits, ferrets, geese, chickens and a fake cow! – we happened to bump into a real-life farmhand from the 1940s. Yes, Anthea Hanscomb was 20 years old when she started as a pupil farmhand in 1940 at the farm across the road from her in Chipperfield in Hertfordshire, and she was happy to share her wartime experiences down on the farm with us. Well, we jumped like a frisky goat at the chance to gain the inside scoop on farming 1940s-style and see what pearls of farming wisdom we could pass on to today’s living-off-the-land devotees!

And Anthea is not short of farming wisdom. Her family ran a smallholding with a cow, sheep, occasionally geese, lots of hens and rabbits. They also grew parsnips, turnips, potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, artichokes and all kinds of lettuces. She had originally wanted to join the Women’s Land Army, but was turned down when she went down to the Ministry of Labour in Hemel Hempstead.

She said: ‘The reason why they wouldn’t have me in the Land Army was they said they weren’t taking farmers’ daughters. I did explain this was a smallholding and they said that didn’t matter, they weren’t taking farmers’ daughters because if one joined up then they would have the whole lot joining up because they would like to get the uniform.

‘The uniform was good, actually; there was no doubt about it. I did rather envy them at times because I wore boiler suits or, if I wasn’t wearing a boiler suit, I was wearing my younger brother’s trousers as he grew out of them. I could wear his grey flannel trousers to my mother’s absolute horror because it had got a zip fly opening and women do not have a zip opening as a fly. And she was not pleased.’

Fashion aside, Anthea wanted to do something to help the war effort – so she asked the local farmer if he needed a hand. His younger son had just been called up and Anthea was taken on. She spent the next six years working on the farm, which (despite the boiler suit) she ‘absolutely loved’. Hay-making, feeding the pigs, mucking out the cow shed – these were the jobs that filled her happy days down on the farm!

The only job she turned her nose up at was collecting the Brussels sprouts – we always knew Brussels sprouts were not to be trusted! Anthea’s verdict is: ‘I can tell you that collecting the Brussels sprouts when they’re frozen solid and it’s snowing is very nearly the worst job you can have!’

We’re not going to argue with that!

Tune in next week to hear Anthea’s tales from the 1940s farm including the story of the naughty little pigs! And don’t forget to pop along to the Wartime Farm in the park outside IWM London – this weekend (14 & 15 August) and next week (19 – 22 August), 11.00am-4.00pm.

The Wartime Farm

August 4th, 2010 | 1 Comment
by Faye, IWM Marketing Team

So, to recap: We’ve tended to our gardens, producing nutritious and delicious home-grown veg 1940s-style; we’ve cooked up the thriftiest of family dinners, straight from the rationed larders of wartime Britain; we’ve given you enough handy hints along the way to nurture that happy marriage between garden and kitchen through the seasons…

But, we haven’t even so much as mentioned a pig, a rabbit, or even a chicken. After all, it’s one thing to string up some tomato plants on your balcony, quite another to keep a pig out back…unless you live on a farm. But look no further for your introduction to pig-handling – Imperial War Museum London is hosting a Wartime Farm in its own backyard in August. Come along to Geraldine Mary Harmsworth Park outside the Museum for the full farmyard experience, complete with pigs, goats, chickens, ducks and rabbits.

Image of girl filling pig food tin

Of course, in 1940s Britain, these animals would have been kept to put more meat on the dinner table. Pig Clubs became popular – the idea being that if people clubbed together they’d be able to afford a herd of pigs between them and share in the care of the animals. By 1943, 100,000 people had joined 4,000 Pig Clubs – it was definitely a case of bringing home the bacon…

Sorry.

However, please refrain from mentioning bacon sarnies in earshot of the pig pen on the Wartime Farm – these animals are visiting from Surrey Docks City Farm merely to show us what ‘lending a hand on the land’ was like in the 1940s. Don’t frighten them with careless talk of sizzling sausages or rabbit pie! Down at the farm you can learn how to care for the animals, milk a (fake!) cow and hear the stories of Land Girls and evacuees from the Second World War.

Roll up your sleeves and get farming!

The free Wartime Farm is happening 12-15 and 19-22 August, 11.00am – 4.00pm. Sponsored by Company of Cooks.