Have I been blackballed, or is it all tommy-rot?
Arf-arf.
The picture above (left) shows a tomato condition called bottom rot. It's often accompanied by split skin. It comes from watering the plant too much after a dry period. The key to successful tomatoes is a median amount of water every day, with as little variation as possible. If it pisses down for a couple of days, leave the plants dry for a day and then go back to normal. If it pisses down all summer, don't water them at all - you'll get bottom-rot anyway with skins splitting all over the place. What we horticulturists do under these circumstances is shlep down to the supermarket and buy some tomatoes from Spain or Chile or wherever.
It is however a pity to do this, because of all the vegetables, tomatoes are the ones which taste so much better straight off the vine than they do from Tesco. Courgettes come close, but Courgette plants invade Russia after a few weeks - and very few people have gardens stretching from Beckingham to the Urals.
Down here in Southern France, there are some tomato varieties (such as beefheart or giant plum) which are often advertised as only good for stuffing; but picked in the morning and bunged in the fridge for two hours, they are unbelievably tasty on their own - or with avocado and mozarella. My wife was a devoted fan of the Small Toms Only Tendency until I force-fed her these varieties. Now she is a different woman. She is Mrs Stanley Knife of 42 Eclectic Avenue, and shall be so for the next three months, with matinees on Sundays.
The other syndrome illustrated above (right) is blackball, a condition occasionally afflicting walnuts when they fall from the tree in September. It's only known effect is that of staining the hands of those who pick them: you can therefore safely ignore it.
The are two things you need to know about gathering walnuts. One, climbing the tree in July and threatening the fruit with dire consequences will not make it fall. He's a stubborn cove, your green walnut.
Two, be very suspicious of walnuts on the ground that look clean. The chances are that the squirrels have inspected them and deemed same unworthy of noshing. They inspect asking three vital questions: what does it weigh? How does it smell? Does it sound hollow? Only three out of three results in the shell being opened.
A light weight suggests dryness. A bad smell suggests infestation. A hollow sound suggests - and this is pure genius - hollowness.
We fabulously Godlike humans have only two out of three of these senses left. And this is why all squirrels go to Heaven: because they can smell the ghastly burning magma down below.