Plain Ease

Plain Ease

Samvida 

‘Plain Ease is a Meanwhile Space.’  When Reed talked about his projects, you could hear the capital letters in his voice. ‘Once upon a time it was a pickle factory. In a couple of years a block of flats will be built on it. MEANWHILE it’s a community garden.’

It was my first morning in Coopers Hook. I’d thrown on a hoodie against the rain and run all the way from TimePad to Plain Ease. When I arrived at the gates a white van painted with the logo of an environmental charity was parked at the entrance. Reed was in the driver’s seat.

‘Hi Sam. Did you sleep well? 

‘Like a log. Thanks for finding me a bed.’

‘It’s what I do. Hop in!’

We drove a hundred metres along an unmade road between building sites. Cranes reared up like dinosaurs behind hoardings decorated with stencilled graffiti. Where the track opened out Reed parked up. Rain was pounding in sheets on the windscreen and roof, so we waited in the van for it to stop. ‘Welcome to Plain Ease, Sam,’ said Reed, when the rainstorm had passed and we could hear ourselves speak. ‘You’ll be working here five days a week, from ten until four. Technically you’re a volunteer, but you can claim up to £5 a day for food. I’ll need receipts. How does that sound?’

‘Perfect.’

‘Promise me you’ll provide a reference.’ 

I crossed my fingers and promised.

We climbed out of the van on to a stretch of tarmac where weeds were bursting through. Reed called it the Yard. Big wooden boxes were lined up at intervals across it, creating a kind of maze. Each box was a metre square and built on a pallet. Numbers were stencilled on their sides. Reed made it clear these boxes were a big deal.

‘These are our mobile gardens, Sam. They’re designed to be transported by fork-lift truck. When the building work starts we’ll move them to the next Meanwhile Space. Come into the poly-tunnel and I’ll tell you about our market gardening project.’

Inside the poly-tunnel, which looked like a giant plastic tube, trowels and empty plastic seed trays were laid out on trestle tables. On the floor were sacks of potting compost. Reed told me vegetable seeds were going to be started off in the trays and transferred to the mobile gardens when they were strong enough. Later they’d be harvested and delivered to local restaurants. Plain Ease was going to become a small business, but it wouldn’t make a profit. Any money left over after the costs were covered would be used for development.

Next, Reed took me to a shipping container with windows and a door cut into it. ‘This is the Hub of our enterprise,’ he said.

The space inside the Hub was split into two sections. On the right, waterproof coats waited on hooks with muddy rubber boots lined up below them. Watering cans were clustered around plastic crates overflowing with grubby gardening gloves. Spades and forks were propped up in a corner. A smaller room on the left had a notice taped to the door. ‘Staff Only’, it read. Against the wall was a long workbench with a box of teabags and an open carton of milk at one end. The rest of the bench was laden with plants in need of TLC and mugs advertising local charities. On the floor under it were crates full of packets of vegetable seeds, canvas tote bags printed with logos, laminated information sheets and packs of bottled water.