Our path to biodynamic grower Alfie Nickerson didn’t begin in the perfumed fields of Norfolk but under the jaundiced lights of a seven-a-side pitch in W10, where people pay to run themselves into the astroturf for no glory and scant reward save the small salvation of a cold pint at full-time. Our founder Nico was there every Monday night. Alfie was too.
What particularly intrigued us about Burnt Fen is how things are done on this three-acre farm near the Norfolk Broads. “We grow biodynamically, and the 500/501 sprays become a ritual,” says Alfie as he readies himself for our shoot. “You fill a cow horn with manure, bury it, then later dig it up and stir the preparation in water for an hour, creating and breaking vortices. It forces you to slow down, look up, and really see the field. We walk every row, flick the spray, and observe plant by plant… It syncs us with the seasons.” Cow horns? Deference to the seasons? Sounds vaguely paganistic, and it reads like poetry. “You treat the farm as a living organism and accept plants are in tune with forces we don’t fully understand,” he continues. “Moon, stars, tides… you time tasks to flower, leaf, fruit, or root days; and on black days you leave plants alone and do other jobs. The calendar changes every year based on celestial movements.” It almost goes without saying, but Alfie does not allow pesticides or artificial fertiliser anywhere near his soil. This is a true biodynamic operation, using ancient growing traditions.
“You treat the farm as a living organism and accept plants are in tune with forces we don’t fully understand,” he continues. “Moon, stars, tides… you time tasks to flower, leaf, fruit, or root days; and on black days you leave plants alone and do other jobs. The calendar changes every year based on celestial movements.” It almost goes without saying, but Alfie does not allow pesticides or artificial fertiliser anywhere near his soil. This is a true biodynamic operation, using ancient growing traditions.
Built on land owned by his grandfather and run with a mixture of friends, family, volunteers, and employees, this is very much an intimate, community operation. It benefits from being close to the thriving Bungay, “a little East Anglian magnet for younger people with good bakeries, restaurants, and a weekend vibe,” says Alfie. But it wouldn’t have been possible without Alfie’s conviction and drive to pursue his first love. “I started in London as a gardener for six years,” he tells us. “What I loved most was growing from seed - I’d collect acorns in parks and raise trees. My friend Richard and I wanted out of London… We didn’t actually know how to grow at scale, so we researched methods and found Fern Verrow in Herefordshire, run by Jane Scotter — a biodynamic pioneer. We volunteered there for six weeks. It was life-changing.”
Indeed, his obsession with flowers is clear. He becomes animated discussing his favourites, telling us about the first tulips of winter, his devotion to dahlias, and his “true love” bearded irises. “They flower around the second or third week of May,” he says. “Each variety smells different — some like chocolate, some like violets. They’re otherworldly. One stem can carry about eight blooms that open in sequence.”
Again, the word poetry comes to mind. But all this bucolic wonder has not dimmed his interest in the game that brought us together in the first place. “In London I loved Monday-night football - the sweat, the freedom. It’s harder up here, but I go to Norwich games occasionally… we’ve batted, volleyed, and even headed flowers for fun - petals exploding mid-air. It’s chaotic but joyful.” This feels as good a place as any to leave him, tending once again to his flowers.
