Does Father Christmas Hate Gardeners?

I'm starting to think so. If you've been around here a while, you'll know that two Christmases ago, the top item on my letter to Santa (and I sent it really early, honest) was a kitchen composter.

I was really excited. Milan is generally good for recycling - plastic, glass, paper etc all has to be separated - but they don't collect food waste for composting. And every night as I'm peeling veg for dinner, I'm there thinking Oh what a shame - if only I could have a compost heap on the balcony...

So when I found the kitchen composter, I thought I'd solved the problem. All my vegetable peelings could go in, and I'd save a fortune on fertiliser. And it would be organic.

The website promised no smell, no flies and quick decomposition - spurred on by the adition of a bokashi mix - a bran based culture containing bacteria, yeasts etc which spur on the decomposition. The answer to a balcony gardener's dream.

So off went my letter to Father Christmas. And I waited with anticipation. Christmas morning came. My presents were lovely. But no kitchen composter. I was so disappointed ...

So I asked Father Christmas' local representative what had happened to the composter. He looked puzzled. "You really wanted a rubbish bin for Christmas?"

Yes, I really wanted a rubbish bin for Christmas. Oh well. A year passed. This time I printed off the website page and attached it to my Christmas letter. With a note saying that I loved all the handbags, and jewellery, and perfume I'd got last year, but honestly, I really, really, really wanted this particular bin for the kitchen rubbish.

Christmas morning came. There was nothing under the Christmas tree that looked remotely the size of a kitchen composter. But when we came to open everything, I found a small envelope waiting for me. And there it was, in the shape of an order form. It would be arriving shortly.

Wheee ... day after day I asked our caretaker if anything had arrived. Nothing. I waited - the Italian post isn't renowned for speed so I didn't panic. There were other internet ordered presents that hadn't yet arrived either. But January wore on, and in the end I cracked and sent an e-mail to the company.

Oh.. they replied Didn't you get our message? we cancelled the order. We don't deliver outside the UK ...

At that point, I knew it was true. Father Christmas hates gardeners. Or at least kitchen composters. It's all right for him - he's got all that reindeer dung to work with ...

But you can't keep a good composter down, so back I get on the net. If Father Christmas won't do it, then I'll buy one myself. There must be a company somewhere who will deliver to me ... And yes, I found one. In fact the company where I'd originally found the composter , Just Green We welcome orders from outside the UK. Wheeee again.

So I think I'll finally get my kitchen composter. No more having to throw away the potato peelings. Lots of lovely liquid fertiliser for the plants. And my own supply of fresh compost. Watch this space ...

I've got compost!

When I was last here two years ago, I found the garden in much the same state as it is now - overrun with grass borage and nettles - and spent a month clearing it up then too. The weeds and the grass and the clippings from everything I cut back more than filled the Council's garden waste wheelie bin, so I revived the compost heap at the bottom of the garden. The borage and other weeds went into the wheelie, and anything which didn't have seeds or tap roots attached went into the compost heap - or the "dump" as we used to call it when we were kids.

Two years later and, despite it not having been looked after at all, I have the most gorgeous rich crumbly compost. There are still some woody bits that haven't broken down properly, but they're easy enough to sieve out and once that's done it looks almost edible. Pity I can't take some home with me - but I don't think it would fit into RyanAir's 15kg allowance-

I'm gradually digging it out and transferring it into bags at the moment. Gradually because I'm terrified of overdoing things and putting my back out - when you're gardening on a balcony you don't get much practice at digging. So I intersperse short bursts of heavy work with the more gentile aspects of gardening - deadheading the roses and spraying the black spot, you know the sort of thing - in the hope that I can con my muscles into staying the course.

Before I leave it will be dug into the garden, but there's a way to go before I get to that stage. However, I need the compost heap empty again for the new stuff, which is already piling up. Hence the transfer into bags.

This year though, the composting is going to be done a bit more scientifically. Last time things were just chucked on the heap in desperation. This time I'm planning first - I shall be chopping and shredding, layering my greens and browns, sprinkling old compost on each layer to introduce the microorganisms, and watering in.

I can almost hear the borage licking its lips in anticipation ...