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Each quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel-powered train arrives at a graffiti-covered station. Nearby, a police siren pierces the almost continuous traffic drone. Daily travelers rush by collapsing, ivy-draped garden fences as storm clouds gather.

It is perhaps the least likely spot you anticipate to find a perfectly formed vineyard. However one local grower has managed to four dozen established plants heavy with plump purplish berries on a sprawling allotment situated between a row of historic homes and a commuter railway just north of the city town centre.

"I've noticed individuals concealing illegal substances or other items in the shrubbery," states Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your vines."

The cameraman, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who runs a fermented beverage company, is not the only local vintner. He's pulled together a loose collective of cultivators who produce vintage from four discreet city grape gardens nestled in back gardens and allotments across Bristol. It is sufficiently underground to have an official name yet, but the group's messaging chat is named Grape Expectations.

Urban Wine Gardens Across the Globe

So far, the grower's plot is the only one registered in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming global directory, which features better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the hillsides of the French capital's renowned artistic district neighbourhood and over 3,000 grapevines overlooking and inside the Italian city. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the forefront of a movement reviving city vineyards in historic wine-producing nations, but has identified them all over the globe, including cities in East Asia, South Asia and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens assist cities stay more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. They preserve open space from development by establishing permanent, yielding agricultural units inside urban environments," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those produced in cities are a product of the earth the vines grow in, the vagaries of the climate and the individuals who tend the grapes. "Each vintage represents the charm, local spirit, landscape and heritage of a urban center," adds the president.

Mystery Polish Variety

Back in Bristol, the grower is in a race against time to gather the grapevines he grew from a cutting abandoned in his garden by a Polish family. If the precipitation arrives, then the birds may seize their chance to attack again. "This is the enigmatic Eastern European variety," he says, as he cleans bruised and mouldy grapes from the glistering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they are certainly hardy. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and other famous European varieties – you need not treat them with pesticides ... this could be a unique cultivar that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Activities Throughout Bristol

The other members of the collective are also taking advantage of sunny interludes between showers of fall precipitation. On the terrace overlooking the city's glistening waterfront, where historic trading ships once floated with barrels of wine from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her dark berries from about fifty vines. "I love the aroma of these vines. The scent is so reminiscent," she remarks, pausing with a basket of fruit resting on her arm. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the car windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has spent over 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, inadvertently took over the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from East Africa with her family in recent years. She felt an overwhelming duty to look after the grapevines in the yard of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has already survived three different owners," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the idea of natural stewardship – of passing this on to future caretakers so they can continue producing from this land."

Sloping Vineyards and Traditional Winemaking

Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the collective are busily laboring on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has established more than 150 vines situated on terraces in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the silty local waterway. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the tangled grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they can see grapevine lines in a urban neighborhood."

Today, the filmmaker, 60, is harvesting bunches of dusty purple dark berries from lines of plants arranged along the hillside with the help of her daughter, her family member. Scofield, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on Netflix's nature programming and BBC Two's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after observing her neighbor's vines. She has learned that amateurs can make interesting, pleasurable natural wine, which can sell for upwards of £7 a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments focusing on low-processing wines. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually make quality, natural wine," she says. "It's very fashionable, but in reality it's resurrecting an traditional method of making wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, all the wild yeasts are released from the skins into the juice," says the winemaker, partially submerged in a bucket of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "That's how vintages were historically produced, but commercial producers introduce preservatives to eliminate the natural cultures and subsequently incorporate a commercially produced yeast."

Difficult Environments and Inventive Approaches

In the immediate vicinity active senior Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to plant her vines, has gathered his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from the 100 plants he has laid out neatly across two terraces. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who taught at the local university developed a passion for wine on regular visits to Europe. However it is a challenge to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to make Burgundian wines in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," says Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and particularly vulnerable to fungal infections."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines in this environment, which is a bit bonkers"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the only problem encountered by grape cultivators. Reeve has been compelled to install a fence on