Financial Times Europe - 04.04.2020 - 05.04.2020

2 ★ FT Weekend 4 April/5 April 2020

For inspiration, I am

looking to the 18th-

century kennel by

Jean-Baptiste-Claude

Sené created for

Marie Antoinette

A dog bed— or a

‘niche de chien’?

Is there any such thing as a stylish

dog bed?

One would hope so. I am still without

a canine sidekick, much to my

chagrin. My partner Duncan, you see,

is not a natural dog lover, having

grown up with three yappy (but

in my opinion extremely loveable)

toy poodles. My parents got Labradors

after I moved to London, which meant

I missed out.

Duncan’s uncertainty is not the real

problem. We both travel a lot and it

would not be fair to continually foist

a dog on friends while I swan about

in New York or Paris, paintbrush in

hand. Since we moved to the country

last June, however, things have

changed. We have a big garden

and endless fields surrounding us.

We have decided on a breed:

a whippet (and a name: Merlin).

Why a whippet? Medium size.

Small enough to curl up in my lap,

large enough to race full-speed

through summer fields during all

those country runs I am imagining.

A sleek, velvety coat, like a mouse’s.

Sensitive, not particularly social.

Reminds me of... me. And such

elegance, with that slender head held

high and those delicately crossed

mistaken for a chic basket for logs or

magazines, it would look as good in a

sitting room as it would by the Aga.

I would probably want to pair roughish

jute with a blanket for my shivering

whippet to tuck himself beneath.

I like Labour and Wait’s checked

and plaid blankets, made in

Scotland and in limited editions

of 100 per design.

London’s Howe makes the most

stylish dog beds I have come across.

Inspired by a 19th-century spindle-

turned chair, its Great Bear dog bed’s

frame is made in beech, with any

finish (pictured). The accompanying

down cushion is customisable

too, meaning options are endless.

I am imagining a plump cushion

in corduroy with a Greek-key

border and oversized tassels, but

that’s just me.

Howe also does a very comfortable-

looking multilayered dog bed, made

with machine-washable cushions held

together with hessian straps.

For ultimate inspiration, I am

looking to the 18th-century French

furniture maker Jean-Baptiste-Claude

Sené’sniche de chien, ordog kennel,

created for Marie Antoinette and now

in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Constructed from gilded beech and

pine and upholstered in pale-blue

velvet, it is a sumptuous masterpiece

in miniature.

Even more outrageous is a kennel

for sale on 1stdibs.com. Made in the

late 19th or early 20th century, this

grandiose cream-and-green house is

modelled on a neoclassical temple and

embellished with pineapple finials,

Corinthian columns and a raised plinth

mounted with plaster masks of Pan.

With its Robert Adam-esque frills and

spun-sugar swags, it reminds me of

Kenwood House in London.

All of this has got me thinking:

when we do eventually get a dog,

how fun would it be to commission

a bed? I will take my cue from the

Amalienburg, the elaborate Rococo

hunting lodge in the Nymphenburg

Palace Park in Munich. If he is

anything like his owners, I know little

Merlin will go mad for his own pint-

sized, pink stucco pavilion.

For more images and links to Luke’s

recommendations, find his column at

ft.com/house-home

Luke answers readers’ questions on design

and stylish living every week. Email him at

[email protected] and follow him

on Instagram @lukeedwardhall

Luke Edward Hall

Readers’ questions

House Home

Inside

Self-isolate

likeLuke

EdwardHall

How designers and

decorators are finding

comfort in lockdown

Page6

Tillagarden

ofthemind

Robin Lane Fox on

how plants can

calm fears and

enhance our lives

Page10

Seeintothe

soulofachair

Yinka Ilori’s reworked

furniture reflects

human narratives and

explores themes of

race and identity

Pages8&9

House & Home Unlocked

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depression and improves fitness. If we

are to spend three, four, even six months

confined to the house doing nothing but

schooling our three kids and watching

Netflix, regular trips to the allotment

could be a psychic lifesaver.

But the bug — the fear of the bug — is a

worm in this apple too. A tiny sliver of

my thought, looking at the abundance of

broccoli, thinking of potatoes ripening in

the ground, imagining the glorious glut

of broad beans a few weeks from now, is

of the prospect of food shortages.

There is something febrile about the

way we are shopping and hoarding.

Supermarkets are rationing goods. The

fortunate bitch about the difficulties of

logging on to the Ocado website. The less

fortunate, dependent on food banks, do

not always know where their next meal

will come from. Will I soon — if things get

really hinky — be grateful to know I can

feed my family for a few days with pro-

duce grown here?

And then, catastrophising again, I

wonder if that thought will not be the

first to occur to others, if I will not come

here in a crisis to find a mob has already

swarmed in and picked everything bare.

Am I going to end up camping out in the

shed with a pitchfork? That is mad

thinking, but mad thinking now flits —

just flits — across usually sane minds.

And when I look around at my friends

and neighbours in the allotment, I see

that most of them are nearing 70 or

older. One of the pleasures of this plot

has been that it brings us into contact

with people of a different generation and

background from our middle-aged,

media-class, children-having peers.

At least as much as I google the RHS, I

ask advice from Theresa and Paul on the

next-door plots, from Richard on the

one opposite. When do I plant this?

Where should I prune this? What on

earth is this stuff? How come your leeks

are working and mine are dead?

The cheery exchanges, the compli-

ments on a bumper crop, the donation of

a surplus or of a handful of pondweed to

help seed a recently drained pond, or a

few gratefully received seedlings — these

are part of the life of the allotment. I still

remember the slight glow I felt, politics

set aside, when Jeremy Corbyn jogged

past and complimented my beetroot.

Will this continue as a place of refuge

and recuperation? Will it, as now, offer

older people community and purpose?

We know that loneliness can kill as surely

as a viral infection, so this is not a trivial

matter. If they are confined at home, will

theirorderly beds grow unharvested

through summer, ripen and rot?

For now, there are no marauding

mobs of broccoli thieves to be seen off

with pitchforks; no ominously over-

grown plots to mark and mourn. There

are only dandelions to dig by their deep

roots, neighbourly salutations to

exchange, beans to be pushed into the

soil, and the annual promise of renewal

— the tulips, yet to come into flower.

SamLeithwritestheFT’s“ArtofPersuasion”

columnandisliteraryeditoroftheSpectator

Continuedfrompage1

Ramshackle

refuge

Allotments are

often tucked away

in unlikely places

— flanking train

lines or slotted

behind housing

estates — so you

may have to do some detective work to

find your nearest plot. In the UK, the

biggest site owner is local authorities, so

the first place to ask is your town or bor-

ough council, or check on this govern-

ment page: gov.uk/apply-allotment.

Some allotments are owned by private

landlords, so if nothing suitable is on

offer from the local authority, use the

o n l i n e O r d n a n c e S u r vey m a p

(osmaps.ordnancesurvey.co.uk) to

search for brown patches — the colour

for allotments and community gardens

— in your area.

Some sites have long waiting lists, par-

ticularly in big cities, so you may not be

able to be picky about your plot. If you

are lucky enough to be offered the

chance to rent an allotment, check the

site rules before you sign a tenancy

agreement: there may be limitations on

whether you can erect sheds or plant

trees, use hosepipes or keep livestock,

such as chickens, bees and rabbits.

Facilities such as a trading shed,

where you can buy supplies, and on-site

toilets are useful. A source of water and

good security in the form of fencing and

apadlocked gate are vital.

If you are offered a choice of plots,

ask to visit. Check each carefully: how

far is it from the tap and the access

gate? Is it rampant with brambles, or

overrun with half-buried rubbish? Or

is it neat and ready to go? These fac-

tors will help your chances of success-

fully taming your plot.

Allotment sizes are measured in the

archaic unit of poles — also known as

rods: one pole is just over 5 metres. A

“full plot” usually refers to ground cov-

ering 10 square poles, or about 253 sq m,

which is slightly smaller than a tennis

court. If you are starting out, it is proba-

bly wise to ask for a half plot, particu-

larly if the land is overgrown.

Rents vary, but the UK’s National

Society of Allotment and Leisure Gar-

deners says you should expect to pay

between £25 and £125 a year for a plot;

concessions are often available for pen-

sioners, the unemployed and students.

Set aside time every week to maintain

your plot: during the summer, it is not

unusual to spend a whole day at the

weekend and at least one evening there.

Bringing a full plot back into cultivation

takes time and energy: tenancy agree-

ments usually require plot holders to

keep it in a good state and for it to be

productive, although you will be given

leeway to renovate an overgrown plot.

Landlords have the right to inspect

plots and if you allow yours to become

overgrown, you may receive an “untidy

plot letter” and, eventually, face evic-

tion if you fail to address the problem.

Once you have got your precious plot,

do not rush in headlong with your

spade: first, check over your patch, not-

ing what is already there, from raised

beds and compost bins to raspberry

bushes and rhubarb plants.

Next, sketch out what you want to go

where, from shed to beds. The cheapest

option is a series of rectangular growing

areas separated by grass paths. Raised

beds made out of old scaffolding boards

are a popular choice, especially on plots

with heavy clay soil where they can

improve drainage.

Your site may offer to rotovate your

whole plot for a small fee, but think

carefully before agreeing to this seem-

ingly tempting possibility to dig over

the ground without back-breaking

work: unless you remove all the per-

ennial weeds first, mechanical tillers

will simply break every piece of inva-

sive weed, such as couch grass and

bramble root, into thousands of new

weeds. Instead, try to split the space

into chunks and tackle each one in

turn, clearing perennial weeds.

Then you have a choice: digging over

the ground, or a no-dig approach. The

latter involves clearing perennial weeds,

such as brambles and horsetail, then

laying sheets of corrugated cardboard

over the ground and covering with

organic material such as compost or

well-rotted manure. Although digging

may be a quicker way to establish pro-

ductive beds, no-dig is less back-break-

ing and can help to enhance the struc-

ture and fertility of the soil. Visit char-

lesdowding.co.uk for expert advice.

Once you have your first bed ready for

planting, it is time to decide what to

grow. Be realistic — self-sufficiency is,

even for the experienced allotmenteer, a

remote possibility. So it is vital to choose

things you enjoy eating, rather than

copying your neighbours.

If you are worried about food short-

ages, think about what will produce a

speedy crop. First early potatoes

planted now will be ready by June or

July, and peas should be ready for har-

vesting about nine weeks after sowing.

Rather than planting everything at

once, try to sow successionally — little

and often every couple of weeks for

crops such as lettuce, beetroot, chard,

radishes and French beans will mean

your harvest period is longer and will

help you avoid gluts. Do not forget flow-

ers: they will liven up your plot, fill vases

at home and encourage useful pollina-

tors. Try sowing hardy annuals such as

cornflowers, pot marigolds and sweet

peas in rows between the veg.

Finally, if you cannot find a plot to

rent, a windowbox, back step or tiny

patio can become a productive space.

The principle is the same: grow what

you want to eat.

How to tame an allotment: a beginner’s guide

All you need to know about

procuring a plot, planting,

reaping — and the ever-vital

etiquette. ByJane Perrone

(Above from

left) Sam Leith

with beetroot;

some purple-

sprouting

broccoli; a rusty

wheelbarrow

(Below) John

Hall, 89, with

prize-winning

vegetables at his

allotment at

Foots Cray,

London, 1942

Lucy Ranson for the FT;

Reg Speller/Fox Photos/

Getty Images

paws. Just like an

Art Deco bookend.

I started research

a few months ago and have made a few

plans. Ideally I would like to rescue, so

I am checking websites for updates.

In the meantime, I ponder accessories.

First and foremost, a kelly-green

leather lead. As for a dog bed, there

are myriad options: beds made from

memory foam and faux fur and Liberty

fabric; beds that resemble miniature

antique iron human beds or snug little

caves; even heated beds.

The Conran Shop’s Hogla dog basket

is made using knotted jute thread by a

Fair Trade organisation working with

artisans in Bangladesh. The natural

jute is smart and, as it could be

Self-sufficiency is, even for

the experienced, a remote

possibility. So it is vital to

plant what you enjoy eating

Join our horticulture expert for a live

Q&A on getting started with garden

produce on Saturday April 4 at 12

noon and again at 5pm BST. Find

the chat on the FT.com homepage.

Q&A with Jane Perrone

APRIL 4 2020 Section:Weekend Time: 1/4/2020 - 17: 15 User: rosalind.sykes Page Name: RES2, Part,Page,Edition: RES, 2, 1