Sunday 21 January 2018

The Animal Abuse Industry Is Shitting Its Pants


An opening point, for clarification.  By the "animal abuse industry" I am referring to the meat and dairy industries, in their entirety.  Yes, all meat; and yes, all dairy.  There is no such thing as humane slaughter.  That is an oxymoron.  There is no such thing as "ethical" meat, eggs, milk or any other products derived from the bodies of creatures who have as much right to an autonomous existence as you and I.  No appeal to the fractional percentage of animals who may live comparatively "decent" lives with respect to the overwhelming majority who experience nothing but horror from birth to premature death, is going to justify the appalling treatment by our species of so many others for no good reason at all.  (That's right, "but meat tastes nice" doesn't count as a good reason).  There are no exceptions, no excuses, and no escape from moral culpability.  These creatures are individuals; sentient, conscious and capable of feeling not just physiological pain but psychological states like fear, grief, loss, love and familial bonds, and an innate desire for freedom.  Accept this - and all the supporting facts are readily available for you to verify for yourself - and veganism becomes the only morally acceptable position for every human being who is capable of so living to take.  That is the bottom line.

With that flag planted, let's take a survey of the landscape.  The animal abuse industry is shitting its pants.  The Scottish Farmer ran an article yesterday, "Dairy must stand against the vegan tide" - explaining that, "unless the UK dairy industry does more to bolster its healthy image, it risks being swallowed up" by the rising tide of veganism, citing a (un-sourced, but plausible) statistic of a 261% increase in people professing to be vegans in the UK between 2006 and 2016.  In other words, dairy sales are down.  Veganism is bad for business.

Thus, a £1.2 million advertising campaign extolling the wonders of pointlessly drinking another species' milk (instead of - oh I don't know - letting the children whose mothers produced it specifically for them drink it, drink it) and promoted by the Agriculture and Horticulture Development Board (AHDB) - the same organisation that, incidentally, denied that the campaign had anything to do with the rise of veganism only a few months ago.  No doubt it also has absolutely nothing to do with the success of Go Vegan World's excellent campaign from last year, from which its "Humane Milk is Myth" posters won the defence of the Advertising Standards Authority against claims by the dairy industry that such statements were misleading (they're not) and damaging (well, yes, they are, but that's the point).

Ponder that for a moment, if you didn't get the chance last summer: the regulatory body of all advertising in the UK ruled in favour of the (still relatively controversial) claim that there is anything morally objectionable to the production of cow's milk for human consumption, over and against the claims of an industry valued at £3.8 billion a year that still enjoys a general immunity from moral responsibility thanks largely to the generally accepted myth of the uniquely beneficial nutritional properties of dairy products.  The tide is turning, indeed.

So it might be, if you move in any digital vegan circles, that the #Februdairy hashtag has floated onto your social media radar this week.  Here's Dr Judith Capper, one of the speakers at the conference reported by Scottish Farming's article, planting her flag:

"Cute calves" and "juicy beef burgers" in the same sentence.  Hmmm.  Would you like some cognitive dissonance with that?  Once again, the #Februdairy hashtag has nothing at all to do with the far more popular #Veganuary (which is also a slightly better pun) hashtag used to promote a month of veganism for beginners and the vegan-curious.  No doubt the dairy industry decided to promote its products for reasons totally unconnected to their narrowing profit margin.  Multi-billion pound industries never make decisions for economic reasons.  It just doesn't happen.

The predominantly vegan replies to the tweet above might give us a clue to how well the #Februdairy campaign is going to fare in the twittersphere.  I've even thrown a tweet or two of my own into the blabbering void.  This one has been reasonably well received.

But let's be fair.  It's not February yet.  Maybe the dairy industry will find a way to put itself "on the front foot", as Dr Capper has urged.  "There is a need in the dairy sector for some myth-busting. If consumers don’t buy our products – milk, cream, butter, cheese etc – we will not have a dairy industry in five to 10 years", is her advice.  Maybe, despite the inevitable, unstoppable acceleration of veganism into the mainstream, the dairy industry has some more tricks up its sleeve; some incredible new body of evidence supporting the "environmental message" of the dairy industry, that has not already been comprehensively debunked by, well, reality.  I can't imagine what this "evidence" could possibly be but like many other vegans, I'll be all ears.  I'm not expecting anything other than the sound we're hearing already.  The sound of the dairy industry shitting its pants.




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Seedling and Indoor Gardening Update


My little improvised greenhouse has already more than justified its existence.  I'm pleased to report that just 11 days after sowing, it's already given me my first spinach, red cabbage and onion seedlings of the year (not to mention marigolds, which have now taken up residence on top of my cooker, to free up immediate space for me to sow more).

The sun has barely shone at all in Bury all month, and today it is snowing outside.  Yet here we are, spinach:


...of the 'Amazon' variety, as well as 'Banjo' - 


I sprinkled a few more seeds in the less productive-looking soil gaps, for good measure.  Next, red cabbage:


and, finally, Bedfordshire onions:



Still no visible activity from the celery.

Marigolds and mint, perching on the oven for now.


Meanwhile, my greenhouse shelves have arrived, a tidy £19.99 from Olypa who incredibly enough guarantee "110% satisfaction".  I don't really know what that means, but I must admit their shelves are highly satisfactory.  Easy to assemble, and even packaged with relatively little plastic.  As mentioned, the weather outside remains shit so I'm less than eager to trudge over to the allotment this morning to continue fixing up the greenhouse.  It occurred to me as I was drinking my coffee though, that these shelves might make excellent curtains, by which I mean:


I never really got round to putting up any curtains or blinds in this flat, but I really rather fancy the idea of growing my own.  Nasturtiums, vines, and other lengthy plants might should make excellent experimental window dressing.  I like to fantasise I could grow enormous vines, big enough to make a hammock from, but let's not get carried away.  Point is, at £19.99 for enough pieces to make eight shelves in any combination (3 are pictured here, leaving 5 for the greenhouse or perhaps, weather not permitting, another window) I can afford to indulge in another set a week or two from now, by which time it might even be possible to want to go outside.






Related posts

Greenhousing It
Microgreens grown in allotment soil
Microgreen crop rotation
Indoor Garden Update: Potatoes and Not-Potatoes, Herbs and Shoots, Snake Plants, Succulents, and Food
Grow Your Own Curtains
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Friday 19 January 2018

Mundane Freedoms



I've been working more than I like to this week. I put in the contractually obliged 15 hours over the course of Monday-Wednesday (noting with a certain smugness how much more I can actually get done when I work from home, in my dressing gown, rather than in the office in sensible trousers and terrible background radio) but Thursday-Friday I picked up two consecutive night shifts. Partly as a favour, partly because a little extra cash will come in handy this month, all the allotment preparation there is to do.

Anyway, it's two hours on the bus each way between the office and my flat, which is normally fine if all you have to do is stare out the window, fart about online or maybe even read an actual book, but if sleep is what you need, a bus isn't the place to do it. There's a sleeping in airports community, don't you know, but no sleeping on busses community. So I thought I'd give Dayuse a pop. This lets you book decent hotel rooms for a knock-off price, for, as you may have guessed, day time use. Ideal for the daysleeper.



I got myself a room in the normal Village Hotel in Hyde, only 40 mins or so from work, for £29 from 10am to 5pm. Renting a hotel room for a day makes you feel a little bit seedy. Like you're up to no good. But all I did was scroll through the 80 or so ridiculous TV channels for 10 minutes or so before luxuriating into fresh hotel-bed sleep. White sheets, heated towel rails, thick curtains. Marvellous.  (The noisy machine right outside the window that had something to do with the swimming pool, less marvellous).

I'd otherwise have "crashed" at my friend's in Levenshulme but he's having his kitchen done or something. This would have been free, but as the option wasn't available, £29 felt like a reasonable compensation to me. I woke feeling as rested as you can do when you've just buggered your circadian rhythm to submission, had a power shower, and checked out feeling pleased with myself.

The thing is, I really like hotel rooms. Even these newfangled ones with key card entry and squirts soap fixed to the wall so you can't nick it. I like their anonymity, their temporariness, their blandness. Their minimalism. You go in with just the clothes on your back and any luggage you can stomach, and you leave with the same (or if you're lucky, with some free soap). All you really need is in there. It's clean and tidy when you enter, and someone else tidies up for you when you leave. A bit like being an aristocrat.  Bed, desk, bathroom, somewhere to put clothes you're not wearing, and other things. Maybe a telly. But no real stuff. I've always found the experience strangely liberating. It makes me think if I was a millionaire I probably would buy a home; just drift from place to place and book a room each night wherever I happened to be. I read somewhere that Elon Musk does this. Maybe he'd like to give me some of his money.

A peculiar kind of nomadism, and a peculiar sense of peace that comes with it.


Related posts

Travelling Light
Why Isn't Everything Beautiful?
The Great Indoors


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Wednesday 17 January 2018

Marigolds!





Who's to say it's too early in the year to start gardening?  Behold: marigolds.  Sown only a week ago, on the 10th January, in my makeshift kitchen windowsill greenhouse, and here we are exactly one week later with the first shoots of this season's French marigolds.  The rush of endorphins (or whatever they're called) I got just from sighting these this morning was really something.

The temperature hasn't been much above 6 degrees centigrade for the last few weeks.  It snowed last night.  There's still only 9-10 hours of light per day.  I'm in "zone 8".  Yet here we are, despite expectations.

The plan is to grow an abundant supply of marigolds through the year, to space around among other plants to deter anything that may want to eat my edibles before I get chance to.  Their power to do so is legendary among gardening enthusiasts, and I'm itching to put it to the test.  I just didn't think I'd be able to get started so quickly.  I'll be sowing more immediately.

Red cabbage is also making an appearance, too.  Life is good.






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Tuesday 16 January 2018

Northern Forest

I'm very happy to hear about the plans to invest in the planting of over 50 million trees across the north of England over the next 25 years. To my mind, there could be no more worthwhile investment.  From the Woodland Trust's article on the project:
England is losing tree cover. We need to make sure we are protecting our most important habitats such as ancient woodland as well as investing in new major woodland creation schemes. Existing approaches to increasing woodland cover are stalling and existing delivery mechanisms, such as Community Forests are under threat. A new Northern Forest could accelerate the benefits of community forestry, support landscape scale working for nature, deliver a wide range of benefits, including helping to reduce flood risk, and adapt some of the UK’s major towns and cities to projected climate change. But this must be a joined-up approach. We’ll need to continue to work with Government, and other organisations to harness new funding mechanisms such as those promised in the Clean Growth Strategy to plant extensive areas of woodland to lock up carbon. This will ensure we can make a difference long term.

Indeed, and the project has been widely reported in the media, but as yet I've not been able to find much information on the practicalities of the whole thing. Who will be planting the trees, and when exactly? Is it possible to volunteer? Might there even be paid tree planting positions? That would be truly wonderful, planting trees...for a living. In more than one sense of that term.




Related posts

The Open Air
Imaginary Forest Library
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Wednesday 10 January 2018

Greenhousing It




Supermarkets are probably evil by definition but Morrison's, nevertheless, has at least two redeeming features: 1, it was invented in Bradford, West Yorkshire (as, coincidentally, was I) and 2, it has a salad bar.  I mention this because, viz. the aforementioned evil, said salad bar provides disposable plastic salad receptacles.  Disposable plastic is bad.  Most of it ends up in the sea, as I believe I've mentioned before.  Almost all of it is not only never recycled, but never even re-used.  We've all the plastic we're ever going to need.  The only thing left to do is make good use of it.  A monstrous situation, but here we are.

The disposable plastic salad tubs look like this:



Which gave me a little idea: mini greenhouses!  They're absolutely ideal. Having collected a few of them over the winter, today I set about poking a few air holes in each of their lids, filling with compost, and planting some seeds.  I've started with red cabbage, spinach and celery.

That's not all.  Another investment arrived today: lots and lots of greenhouse plastic sheeting, which, when unfolded in my front room, looks something like this:


I took the measurements of the greenhouse frame on the allotment last week, and this morning I've been setting about cutting this sheeting to size, and researching the best way of fixing it to the metal frame.  Plastic to metal?  The best option seems to be duct tape, rather than glue.  Plastic to metal glue does exist, but is expensive and confusing.



Time for another experiment.  Here you can see one of the little glass shelving units I keep on my kitchen windowsill for starting seedlings.  While cutting the sheeting to the size I'll need it to fix to the greenhouse frame it became abundantly obvious that I've bought far too much of the stuff.  Which gave me another idea...



Insert salad seed trays into shelves, cut pieces of plastic to three sides, duct tape it all together, and I've got myself a tidy little kitchen windowsill greenhouse.  Feeling pretty bloody pleased with myself, I can tell you that.


And you know what?  Those prayer plant cuttings I took the other day are already showing signs of rooting.  Look closely:


Those little brown nubs?  They're going to become roots.  I'm calling it now, on January 10th: spring is here.  Celebrate it.





Related posts

Hibernation and Allotment Planning
Repurposed juice cartons and propagating succulents
Grow Your Own Meals Indoors, Forever and Ever?


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Monday 8 January 2018

Slow Cooker Simple Vegan Chilli



It was a great honour and a privilege to receive a slow cooker for Christmas.  I realised a few months ago that I might be able to save on electricity costs if I wasn't using my cooker so much.  But you can't microwave everything.  You can't "slow cook" everything either, but most of things I like to eat (soups and stews, at this time of year all the more) seem amenable to it.  I've yet to confirm if using a slow cooker actually uses less energy, but in the meantime I've become obsessed with chilli.  Today was the fourth time I'll I've made it in the last two weeks.

I like to think I've become rather good at it.  Toying around with a few recipes online, I've settled on a version of my own, that I hope is good enough to share.

Ingredients

2 onions
4 cloves garlic
2 chilli peppers (one red, one green)
2 chopped tomatoes
Beans*
Soy mince
1 tbsp chilli powder
1 tbsp cumin
1/2 tbsp cayenne pepper
Mint
Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions


It's rather like making soup: start with your "base" (celery and onions for soup, always steers you right) - find the combination of herbs and spices that makes sense to you and after that, it's just a matter of throwing all the ingredients in and letting them all cook.

With this chilli, it's only slightly less simple.  Chop your onions, garlic and chilli peppers finely, and saute in oil for about 5 minutes, just until the onions start to brown.  Stir as you fry, listening to some medium-heavy jazz.


Add these to your slow cooker.  Next add one tin of tomatoes, the chilli powder, cumin and cayenne pepper.  I've set my slow cooker on "medium" this time, which means it will take about 6-7 hours to cook.  At this point I take a break, allowing the ingredients added so far to warm through, giving them a good stir after about 15 minutes.

All I do then is add the rest of the ingredients, cover and leave.

*Now, a word on beans.  A lot of chilli recipes include at least some black beans, or other even more obscure varieties of bean.  This is fine, but there's no need to worry if such things are unavailable to you.  Kidney beans are a cheap staple and frankly, any chilli recipe without any kidney beans at all is pathetic.  So you've got to include at least some. You also need to consider how "hot" the resulting dish is going to be.  A mild bean, like butter beans (or perhaps chick peas, which I don't think are really beans but never mind) can relieve some of excess spiciness, should this occur.  This is also why I add mint - quite liberally, in some instances, as it has a pleasant cooling effect.  You need to taste your concoction a few times as you go along, and make the appropriate beans and/or seasoning adjustments, until you find one you're really satisfied with.  On this occasion, I've kept it simple - two tins of kidney beans, one tin of butter beans, and a few handfuls of chopped, fresh, green beans.

And behold:



Spicy, satisfying, slow and simple.




Related posts

A Soup Made of Scraps
Eating from the Bottomless Pickle Jar

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Friday 5 January 2018

Prayer Plant Propagation




The solstice has passed and January is here (happy new one) which means it's time to start thinking hard about making plan(t)s.  To be honest, these days I rarely stop thinking about plants.  Plans are something I am less competent with.  Still, I've been doing a fair bit of internetting and it feels like I'm starting to get a handle on how the allotment year is going to look.

But it's still too cold for much of that, so I'm keeping my attention indoors.  I watched this video the other day, and decided to follow its instructions carefully.

The key would seem to be to look for the "nodes", the nobbly parts of the plant stems you can see here just below the scissors.  That's where I cut.


I found myself two nice nodes; in fact, one node had a node of its own, so I split this stem.  Now I have three nodes.  I've left them in water, out of direct sunlight, and will be observing them closely.  I hope it's not too early in the year to do this sort of thing, but I just can't wait to get started.










Related posts

Prayer Plant Pregnancy

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