It`s not just about money. It`s about the sweetneess of self-sufficiency
A blueberry plantation, even I see serried rows of shrubs, 150 if my calculations are correct. I see clusters of my favorite, gorgeous, pouting purple fruit shining like fat little superfoody jewels with that matt, silvery gleam. I see myself going up the ladder to the roof bright and early on a cool, clear morning this summer. I see dawn breaking over the Stansted to Liverpool Street line 50 yards away. I see the first rays catching the barbed wire around the scrap yards and repair shops under the railway. I see the sunrise inching up between the noodle factory and the commercial laundry. I see the low, level light dappling the browns and reds of my new blueberry plantation. I see my own cheeks bulging with my bumper crop, grown by my own hand in my own garden, where nothing exists now but bare, boring metal. That’s where I want to get to. How I am going to get there is something else entirely. As of now, I’m bigger on the vision than the details, the theory rather than the practice, the end rather than the means. I do realize, obviously, that I am going to have to shore
up the roof. Even under just my weight, when I’m pacing about, puffing out my chest and picturing my plantation coming to its magnificent fruition, doing my sums, the corrugated sheets creak and groan quite a lot. Blueberry bushes have shallow roots, yet I calculate I’ll need a depth of at least six inches of soil up there. At possibly two bags of compost (ericaceous – they love their acid, blueberries) per square yard
of roof, that’s 140 bags, at 251b a bag, which is, what, 3,5001b, or roughly a ton and a half, of soil. Clearly, considerable re-engineering is required or I’ll just have a broken roof and a mudslide. I’ll need to sort out some waterproofing. And buy the bushes, and arrange for some kind of windbreak. I’ll need some plant food, and a spade, plus a boiler suit might be nice – they do some quite flattering ones these days. It’s going to be expensive, this plantation. But then blueberries are expensive. Which brings me to the why element of my dream. Last summer, even during the glut in July, I reckon as a family we were spending £20 a week on blueberries – the same as a moderate drinker does on booze. This winter, with Argentinean and South African imports at #2.99 for a baby-sized portion, it must be closer to £25. So, going into production makes sound economic sense. My plantation will pay for itself in five years, tops. Hey, maybe I’ll be able to sell the surplus, plough the profit back in, expand into the front yard, make a load of cash. But it’s not just about money. It’s about the dignity of manual labor, the sweetness of self-sufficiency and the sheer pleasure that horticulture can bring to a 40-year-old mind and body. It’s about bringing a little slice of the Scottish or Scandinavian hilltop to the inner-city lowlands of E8, injecting purple and green into a landscape that is mostly grey, turning something that is hard and flat and functional into something that is textured and shaped (and still functional, but in a different way). It’s going to be great

How to turf your roof
Space is at a premium for human city-dwellers, so it’s not surprising urban wildlife is getting squeezed out. But look down from a passing plane and you see vistas of prime wildlife real estate. At least you do if you’re Dusty Gedge, a former circus performer with a head for heights and a vision for our rooftops – to turn them into “living roofs”, bringing nature back into our cities, combating climate change and adding value to our homes. A “living” roof is one that has been adapted or purpose-built to include a covering of plants, ranging from drought-resistant succulents like sedums set in a shallow layer of sand and gravel to full-grown trees rooted in deep soil. Across the UK’s cities an estimated 200 million sq m (equivalent in size to Manchester) of flat or gently sloping roofs could be greened with little or no structural modification. Cladding our homes in a living green coat helps to save species of birds and beetles, and also to curb climate change, as plants take up carbon dioxide (the main “greenhouse gas”) and reduce the impact of heavier downpours by slowing run-off. The extra insulation cuts both energy bills and carbon dioxide emissions. Protected from the elements, properties gain from reduced wear and tear, with green roofs remaining watertight 50 years after installation.