So you may wonder who my Uncle George was? If he was still alive, he'd be a 100 years old. Before the second world war, he trained as a bricklayer, a not unusual trade for the eldest son of an Irish immigrant. He then joined the army and spent the war in the services. When he returned, with his brother Jimmy, he set up a building company called Fanning Builders, based first in Bunns Lane Works, then on the site of what is now the Mill Hill Broadway Station car park. Like many of his generation, he was a very bright man, but had left school at 14, so his main education was in the school of life. He was a successful businessman. At some point, he split from Jimmy and ran a building supplies company. When the station car park was built, he moved to Grahame Park way, selling out to Lawsons and retiring, eventually moving to Dorset, before dying an early death from cancer, which we believe was associated with his exposure to asbestos (Jimmy met the same fate).
But that isn't what I wanted to talk about today. I wanted to talk about his tomatoes. I believe that these may well show the way to how we can all work to combat the environmental crisis we face. When I was about 8, I spent some time at Uncle George's house. My mother was ill with cancer, and I was being passed around all of the relatives. Of all of them, I had found George the least approachable and most aloof. When he visited my parents, he would not bother to chat with the kids. His brother Jimmy was the opposite, he'd always have a chat. George was interested in the issues of the real world. He'd raised his daughters and had little interest in anyone elses children. His wife, Kathleen was my Godmother and she was always kind and friendly, but George was simply aloof. When I heard I was staying with them, I was less than thrilled. I imagined George would simply banish me to my room, to sit in silence.
When I turned up, Kathleen showed me to my bed and then suggested that I go out in the garden, as George was tending his tomatoes. As I went out, I was terrified. He wasn't approachable and he had a fiercely sarcastic wit, which anyone familiar with Irish culture and the building industry would recognise. I went out to find George, pruning and a preening his tomatoes. I wasn't particularly interested in gardening and I wasn't keen on tomatoes. I'd rather have been kicking a ball around his lawn, but I made my way over and said "They look like nice tomatoes Uncle George". He proceeded to explain to me all of the varieties, all of the tastes, all of the tricks of growing tomatoes. My mum would buy tomato plants and grow them, to save cash. For George it was a totally different matter. It was a passion. He explained that every tomato in his garden had been grown from a seed. Each one selected because the tomato was delicious. Each year, he'd save the seeds from the most delicious of the crop, so next years would be even more delicious. He explained that to get the best tomatoes you had to feed them plants. To do this, he would make his own compost. He explained that all of the potato peelings, old cabbage leaves, carrot tops would decompose into the finest nutrients. Worms and insects would break these down and it would become the best tomato food possible. He explained why he was growing them in particular spots and he explained how important it was to ensure that whole garden was in balance. Plants were planted to attract bees, natural treatments were used to deter slugs and snails. It was perhaps the most fascinating half hour of my life. At the end, George selected a few different types. He brought them in and for each, a little salt and pepper was applied and I tasted them. They were glorious. I've never tasted such delights since.
I became fascinated. Every day I'd join George and each day learn more. I then realised that there were far too many in the garden for George to eat. I asked him what he'd do with them. He replied that he'd give all of the family a bag and then he'd take several bags around to the Parish Priest. The Priest would take a bag and then distribute the rest to elderly and needy families in the parish. George explained that tomatoes were a great source of vitamin C and had many other essential minerals and vitamins in. I said to him that I'd never realised he did this. He replied "I don't like to make a song and dance of it, I enjoy growing them and I hope other people enjoy eating them".
Sadly, I never developed George's passion for them, but I do try!
This years tomatoes pic.twitter.com/halwrnWRST— Roger Tichborne/RogT #CTID 🏴☠️🇬🇧 (@Barneteye) September 9, 2019
But I was reminded of it yesterday, when a neighbour gave me some tomatoes he'd grown. They were delicious, far more tasty than the bland efforts sold in supermarkets. I thought back to what George was doing and it struck me that what he was doing was actually something that could make a real difference.
George changed the way I thought about tomatoes. Before that, I wasn't keen. His passion had made me appreciate them. His tours around the garden showed me how important the symbiotic relationship between all of the plants was. His compost heap showed me the importance of soil nutrition. His gifts to the poor parishioners demonstrated how small acts in a community, at no cost or effort can make a positive difference. A bag of tomatoes may not be much, but just suppose for a second, we all took a leaf out of Georges book. Look around you. When we talk about Greenhouse gasses, their is only one thing that keeps them in check. That is plants. Anything that is green is photosynthesising carbon dioxide and addressing global warming. George's tomato plants were taking CO2 from the atmosphere and turning it into the most delicious treats. There was no packaging, no plastic, no pesticides. Organic and environmentally friendly.
We seem hell bent on turning London in to a concrete jungle. The new Pentavia development does not even allow for windows that open, so you couldn't even grow your tomatoes in a window box. That cannot be right. I credit George with making me interested in the environment. He was not a sentimentalist. He was a wealthy business man who enjoyed the finer things in life. But he was also a man who understood that the planet needed to be cherished. He was a man who understood that if you don't have bees in your garden, your tomatoes will not flourish.
If we want to save the planet, we need to have more 'Uncle George's', who understand this and who educate us. It had never occurred to me before that you could grow tomatoes from the seeds in the ones on your plate. It never occurred to me that if you want the best tomatoes, you select the best seeds. It never occurred to me that all of those potato peelings and carrot tops could nourish them.
There is an old saying in the environmental movement "Think global, act local". It is true and growing your tomatoes, giving the spare ones to your neighbours is actually quite a revolutionary act. Every one you share is a measure of CO2 that is not being spewed into the atmosphere moving a tasteless tomato from Spain to be wrapped in plastic.
Sadly, you'll never meet my Uncle George or taste his delicious tomatoes. But maybe, just maybe, you will get something from a seed he planted. Maybe it will inspire you to just save a few seeds next time you taste a good tomato. Maybe you'll grown them and share the produce they give you. Such things are the way we will, as a community, save ourselves from a climate crisis. We don't need one big solution, we need a billion small ones.
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