Kings Cross Skip Garden

Volunteering at the Skip Garden

“What is the purpose of slugs?”

The gardener looked up at my question, her bare hands half buried in the soil of a plant tub.

“I know that worms are our friends in the garden, but what about slugs? What do they do?”

Her eyebrows scrunched up for a moment.

“They must have a purpose,” she replied, “Else they wouldn’t be there. Everything has its place in the garden. I can’t think what that purpose is right now though… Let me Google it.”

With hands still covered in soil she took out her phone and started Googling the purpose of slugs. I continued digging, pushing aside the damp earth to make room for a camomile plant that had up until then been living in a small pot by itself. I was re-homing it among tomatoes, baby chard and cosmos in a new planter at the Kings Cross Skip Garden, a community project not far from where I live. It is hidden behind Granary Square, opposite the Kings Cross swimming pond, and is home to a café, a potting shed, greenhouses and a chicken coup.

“Ok, so I can’t find the answer right now,” the gardener said, putting the phone back into her pocket and going back to planting, “But we’ll ask the Head Gardener later. He’ll know.”

I pushed my hands deeper into the soil. When I arrived to start my evening volunteering in the garden I was offered gloves.

“But I prefer not to use them,” said Robyn the gardener, “They say that there is something in soil that is also in antidepressants. I’m not sure if I believe that, but it certainly feels like it.”

As I felt the damp grit underneath my nails and the cool body of a worm wriggle past my fingers into the soil I felt inclined to agree. Living in London it is very rare that I come in contact with mud – good old-fashioned mud like the kind I made pies out of as a child. The smell made me feel six years old again and I felt flushed with the same sense of joy.

I have no experience as a gardener. Luckily experience wasn’t required when I signed up to volunteer.

“Are you a gardener?” the Head Gardener asked me when I met him later that evening.

“No,” I replied, “I know nothing.”

“Good, we like people like you. You’ll believe anything we tell you.”

And he was right – I was a very eager learner. I learnt the importance of pushing plants into the soil and watering them to settle them into their new home. I discovered how to build a bug hotel for insects and creepy crawlies. And I learned how to gently coax the roots of plants before bedding them in a new pot. At the end of the evening I was muddy and proud.

I never found out the purpose of slugs though.

Find out more about the Skip Garden here: http://www.globalgeneration.org.uk/skip-garden-and-kitchen-1/

 

 

 

Word on the Water

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Word on the Water: a floating book barge

Every day on my way to and from work I walk past a boat filled with books. Word on the Water is a floating bookshop that is currently moored in Kings Cross. In the evenings music plays and the books are lined up in neat piles along the boat. I love the smell of the paper and the colourful faces of the books that smile up at me as you walk past. Sometimes one has a particularly large grin and it catches me. And I stop.

At the weekend I couldn’t resist buying The Sweetness of Life by Françoise Héritier. I want to buy a pile to send to friends and family if they are ever sad. It is a long list about the little things that give life its colour and magic. The small moments and observations that make life worth living.

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My current favourite book: The Sweetness of Life

Here are some of the things that I would add to Héritier’s list:

white Christmas tree lights strung in trees, when you see confetti outside a church or town hall and know there has been a wedding, baby’s hands and feet, shapes in coffee, eating things you did when you were younger (banana and custard, beans on toast), finding the perfect word to describe something, sweets in jars, perfectly smooth pebbles, love letters, wild flowers growing in unexpected places (cracks in pavements, the side of railway tracks), the smell of birthday candles, watching people you don’t know have moments you know they will always remember, throwing pennies in a pond or well and making a wish, finding sand in your bag after going to the beach, crumpets, floating book shops.

https://twitter.com/wordonthewater What puts the sweetness in your life? Add yours in the comments below

 

 

A dip in Kings Cross swimming pond

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Kings Cross swimming pond

“Are you warm in that?” the man in the swimming trunks teased me. We were both leaning against the side of Kings Cross swimming pond, except his arms were bare and mine were cuddled in neoprene.

“I’m testing out the wetsuit,” I said. I’m going to the Lake District for an outdoor swimming adventure next weekend and wanted to check the hand-me-down wetsuit fitted. It did, after ten minutes of jumping up and down in the tiny changing cubicle and tugging wrinkles out of my knees.

It was my first time visiting the freshwater pond that is ten minutes from my flat, hidden behind the fountains and the fashion students at Granary Square. I walked there through a small park where a group practiced Tai Chi and chanted, not quite drowning out the sound of the construction sites all around. If you look in any direction at Kings Cross you can see a crane. The skyline is broken by half-built buildings and shiny glass tower blocks. And in the middle of them all is a swimming pond.

I swam alongside two other swimmers and a pair of ducks as the sun set behind us. The water felt warm (or maybe it was the wetsuit) and I swam front crawl up and down the small pond, catching glimpses of scaffolding and sky under my arm as I rolled my head for air. When it was nearly time to leave I floated in the middle of the pond, my feet and neon pink toes poking out of the water. I took deep breaths and floated. And I felt so happy.

There is nothing that says ‘London’ to me more than a swimming pond surrounded by building sites. London is a confusion of noise and buildings growing from the ground like weeds overtaking a garden. I hate it. But then I find a little pocket of something special – nature in an unexpected place, a bookshop so beautiful it makes me want to cry, a restaurant with the best banoffee pie, or a swimming pond in the middle of the city – and I am charmed. The surprises make my heart swell.

“No wetsuit next time,” said the man in the swimming trunks as I stood under the outdoor shower, my head turned up to the sun and a huge smile on my face.

“No wetsuit next time!” I replied.

http://www.kingscrosspond.club/ It’s advised to book your session online if you can. If you are turning up on the day the swimming pond only takes card, not cash.