Urban gardener, Cleve West: Busy doing nothing

The gates of Bushy Park Allotments will be unlocked this afternoon for our annual open day, so it will be plain for all to see that we've taken our eye off the ball this year. Bindweed has taken advantage of my having allowed it to go unchecked among brambles (where I assumed restricted light would stunt its growth) and in the herb bed at the front, where it's forming a formidable alliance with couch grass. Both have also made alarming inroads into paths, raised beds and compost heaps and will take some work this winter to push back. The blame lies squarely on our involvement at Chelsea this year and the energy-sapping hot spell earlier in the summer when all the time we had was spent lugging watering cans to keep everything alive.

September is a relaxed month on the gardening calendar. Save for convolvulus seed dropping and making life even more difficult next year, there's no real urgency. Comfortably warm with just a hint of autumn on a light breeze, these days are cherished as much as any time in spring and invariably we dawdle along in a sort of daze, tugging at a few weeds, snacking on autumn raspberries and finding any excuse to stop for fresh coffee or chai.

Most of the squash, probably because of the drought, have underachieved, some squeezing out just one token droplet. Even courgettes have struggled. Crookneck squash and White Bush Scallop, however, either relished the challenge or have benefited from a breakdown in communication and been inadvertently watered twice. Leeks that looked like worn bootlaces a few weeks ago rallied through the cool, damp August and now look as if they might nourish us through winter after all. And cucumbers, masters of camouflage, keep appearing from nowhere.

A recent visit was about as perfect a day as you could hope for in the garden (aside from the demise of crimson clover - a green manure - that had been grazed to stumps by slugs). We arrived without any agenda and, like many others it seemed, we felt more inclined to be sociable. Henry arrived with news of blight affecting tomatoes at the southern end. Inspired timing, as we'd been eyeing a crop of plump beefsteaks for brunch. Within minutes they were sizzling to caramel in a frying pan and served on hot garlic toast with a garnish of basil. He then took us to pick the last of his Victoria plums before a recce to confirm reports of some monster sweetcorn grown by the Vietnamese family who won first prize for the largest pumpkin last year.

The rumours were true. A small clump of thick shafts more like tropical bamboo than maize shot skyward (the tallest around 3.5m), their mangrove-like bracer roots radiating from nodes like a Catherine Wheel made of cigars. The seed had come from Peru. I had heard of Jala maize, a Mexican variety that is reported to grow well over six metres tall, but had never seen maize quite so big before. The cobs were equally enormous - one enough for three helpings - but we'll have to wait for news on taste, as no one suggested knocking up an impromptu barbecue.

We returned to our plot after the customary promise of seed-swapping, although I can't begin to think what might be suitable as a trade.

No sooner had Henry left than more friends turned up (one with a broken ankle) and the whole cook-up was repeated, this time with green tomatoes and two or more cups of tea. It was five o'clock before we did anything resembling work. Leek and celeriac beds were hoed, forgotten seedlings put out of their misery on the compost heap and a thorough search for the last possible offering on our small fig tree was made at twilight before digging a few carrots for supper at home. Hardly a good day's work, but a memorable one nevertheless. If you're in the garden today, do nothing. It's good for you.

Bushy Park Allotments open day, 12noon-4pm today. Enter (on foot only please) through gates on the Hampton High Street (A311), next to Hampton open-air pool