UK: ‘They poisoned and trampled my vegetables’: Britain’s allotment wars and the gardeners losing the plot
Demand for allotments is at an all-time high, with waiting lists as long as 18 years. Now, in these otherwise serene spaces, tensions are surfacing
By Eleanor Peake
iNews
October 5, 2022
If you ever have a question about allotments, ask Phil Gomersall. In the 28 years that he has rented a plot just outside Leeds in West Yorkshire, he has never seen the battle for one of the vegetable patches on the allotment he manages be as frantic and as unyielding as it is right now. Every month, he tries to reduce the dozens of people on his list, but every month more people join it.
The allotment that he manages is small: only 22 plots, but the wait for one of these coveted 65 square metres of land takes years. How long is the wait? Is the common question. “How long is a piece of string?” is the frequent reply.
Since 2021, 38 per cent of UK allotments have had more than 1,000 people on the waiting list. In 2020 this stood at just 20 per cent. So far, the longest recorded waiting time was in Camden: a woman in the London borough waited a total of 18 years and three months.
Gomersall is doing everything he can to reduce his list. “At my allotment we’ve reduced many of our plots down to quarter of the original size, and so we’ve reduced the waiting list to about 10 or so, but the list doesn’t seem to be going down,” he says. “It just keeps staying static at that number, no matter what we do.”
The 77-year-old has been the secretary for his small allotment for 26 years, leading the day-to-day organisation. “I have been prepared to stand down from the post to let new blood in but the plot holders keep re-electing me,” he says.
A friendly and frank man, Gomersall quickly rose through the ranks to become the president of the National Allotment Society. Now he speaks on behalf of all allotments in the UK, at conferences abroad and at home. He was even awarded a British Empire Medal in 2017 for his efforts. But, he says, it’s a job that is quickly getting trickier and trickier.
The Association for Public Sector Excellence (APSE) – a not-for-profit group that promotes quality local government services – has found that an increasing number of councils are offering smaller allotment spaces in an attempt to cater for rising demand
Some are half or quarter the size of a previous typical space – and some are even “micro plots” as small as three square yards. And yet, 47 per cent of allotments still say the wait times for new joiners is at least 18 months.
The obvious menace to blame would be the pandemic, but Gomersall says that the surge in the popularity of allotments during lockdown doesn’t account for the ceaseless queues he is still experiencing.
“I think the financial situation that our country is finding itself in is partly responsible for this,” he offers instead, referring to the cost of living crisis. “Allotments are becoming a necessity rather than a leisure activity.”
According to estimates from the National Allotment Society, the average cost of running a 250-square-metre plot was £247 per annum. The approximate value of the fruit and veg harvested could be as much as £1,909.82 per plot.
We may have come full circle. During the Second World War, allotments in London boomed. Rationing meant that thousands of city dwellers needed to rent their own land to grow food: in 1945, there were 1.4 million allotments in the UK. But as food became more affordable and as rationing disappeared, so too did the vegetable patches. Eventually councils sold much of them off, and by the 70s, two thirds of allotment plots had gone.
The pandemic did see a spike in demand. At one point during the national lockdown, keeping a vegetable patch was one of the few outdoor activities sanctioned by the Government. But two years on from the first lockdown in March 2020, demand is not subsiding.
“It’s not just a city problem,” warns Gomersall, “although, it is even worse in London thanks to the lack of land.” In the capital, waiting lists are among the highest in the country and now, across the boroughs, tensions are beginning to bubble.
Terry Dickinson, 73, is secretary to one of east London’s many allotments. He has seen disputes arise as a result of overzealous managers on some allotments offering up parts of people’s plots in a bid to quell demand. “If you had a garden that you’ve been working on for decades and someone just comes and takes half of it, you’d be annoyed right?,” he says.
Dickinson has managed his allotment for eight years and he’s proud to host garden hobbyists from around the world: “People grow vegetables I’d never heard of,” he says. Currently his allotment houses over 200 plots.
His waiting list is, of course, long. “I support making room for people so that more people can get involved with allotments, but what shouldn’t be happening is people being forced off their plots to make room for waiting lists. That’s not fair. That is what causes arguments.”
In another London plot, Emily, 65, who asked to be anonymised thanks to the rising animosity within her allotment committee, has seen these vegetable patch issues reach breaking point. “Community spirit on allotments is a myth,” she says. “On our site, there have been bitchy and unpleasant emails but on other sites, I have seen poisoning of people’s plots going on and trampling on people’s plants. People can be quite threatening to each other.
“Disputes come from this idea that ‘this is my land and it’s a lifetime commitment and how dare you take it away from me?’. That’s the major problem.” Before retiring, Emily worked in medicine. She adds: “But at least I’m not watching a woman die on an amethyst bed, I suppose.”
Emily has never experienced wait times like the ones she is currently experiencing at her allotment. She applied to get a patch in 2018. A week later, she was tending to her new plot. Now, thanks to an expanding waiting list, plots are under pressure to be as well presented as possible. If plots are not maintained, site secretaries have the power to take away plots and hand them over to the people waiting on the fringes.
Now that lockdown is over, some allotment holders are finding they have less time to keep their patch weed-free and tidy. “I know people who have been approached and have been told, most unfairly, by their allotment committee, we’re going to take part of your plot and give it to somebody else,” says Dickinson, who is firmly opposed to the policy. “Those committees are not running things how they should. That’s not in their constitution. They’re running outside. That’s when the problem comes.”
After a relatively short time as an allotment secretary, Dickinson found himself elected as London regional representative for the National Allotment Society. As a result, he spends a lot of his time mediating disputes. “That’s when plot holders come to us and say, ‘what can we do about it? Why has my society nicked a bit of my plot?’”
On the other side of the fence is London allotment secretary Andrew Bailey. Although he admits that throwing people off their plots is unfortunate, he says it is a necessary part of the job. “Some people tend not to work their plots as fully as they should,” says Bailey, 58. “They will not give them up. It’s like a kind of psychological barrier where they can’t seem able to admit failure or defeat. It takes me at least four hours a week to maintain my plot. A lot of people can’t dedicate that time.”
Bailey first got his London allotment in 2001 and was elected as secretary in 2015. “I’ve had two stints as secretary, because nobody else will do it. You know how these things are,” he says. Like those of his fellow secretaries, Bailey’s plot has seen an explosion of interest. “There was a massive, massive increase of people wanting to join us during the pandemic and now we have about 60 people on the waiting list,” he says.
Twenty years ago, Bailey applied for his allotment in Tower Hamlets. “When I joined, the members were pretty much exclusively white, working-class blokes. A pretty closed, insular sort of community. All the guys were ex-dockers and all the rest of it,” Bailey says.
One day Bailey went down to this rather unwelcoming allotment and tried to join informally. He was surprised to get a call later on that day to say he was in. “I was also a white bloke, so I think they liked that combination,” he adds. “Since I’ve been there, I’ve tried to make sure it does not run like that; that it’s run more fairly.”
The demographics of allotments are certainly changing. Now the majority (64 per cent) of plots in London are occupied by women. They are also becoming more diverse: “In the last 10 years, allotments are getting far more multicultural,” says Dickinson. “We have people from around the world now. It’s great.”
An allotment in east London. in 1945, there were 1.4 million in the UK, but by the 70s – pictured – two thirds of allotment plots had gone (Photo: Steve Lewis/Getty)
For both Bailey and Dickinson though, bigger arguments are fairly rare, and manageable. “Disputes are to be expected when there are 200 people sharing a small bit of land. That’s human nature,” says Dickinson.
Emily, on the other hand, still has reservations: “When it comes to committees, it can take over people’s lives. I’m the secretary of my allotment and my husband worries that I’m also going that way. Some people just get completely obsessed with it.”
While I was canvassing views on London’s allotment scene, one patch kept finding its way into conversation: the Isle of Dogs. Admiration for this allotment has reached almost mythological status amongst those in the know. “The soil there is so much better than elsewhere in London,” comments Bailey. “The Isle of Dogs has a much friendlier society,” another secretary surmises. Dickinson agrees: “It’s a very good allotment to look at and to go to. I know a young lady who had to wait 10 years to get on there.”
But it’s not all arguments and fawning over the Isle of Dogs. David Cutts, 78, has rented his plot just outside Romford since 2008. For him, this community is important. “We’ve got a thing going where we always say hello or goodbye. We all know each other’s names,” he says. “We have a monthly pamphlet that one of our plot holders writes, which shares the sort of vegetables that have been harvested that month. You don’t feel threatened over there at all. It’s a nice hobby. When they have concerts in the park next door, we can dig to the music,” he laughs.
It’s been almost 30 years since Gomersall first fell in love with allotments. During his tours around Europe as president of the National Allotment Society, he is proud of the UK’s soaring gardening community. “I’m going to put a feather in our cap here: we are well thought of in Europe,” he says. “Our allotments are leading the way in terms of council planning and development, and the prioritisation of the spaces.”
Still, as waiting lists continue to grow, big city allotments will need all the patience they can muster. After his decade in the game, Gomersall offers his advice: “To run an allotment, you really have to be a people person. It’s swings and roundabouts.
He adds, chuckling: “You have to be considerate towards the people. They are people after all, they’re not just plotting numbers.”
