Since we last spoke I have mostly been talking. I know that to some of you this will come as no great surprise: “Huh” you might say “That is no great surprise, the man seldom shuts up with his drivelling and whiffle”.
You have a very good and valid point but let me explain….
When I first started on my journey as a gardener my days were spent very simply in the company of Radio 4 (or loudly, and very pretentiously: Wagner (i) ), the odd Robin and the whirring clunks of my own brain. Then I started employing the odd person and there was chatter but life was still mostly peaceful. Then people started asking me to design stuff instead of just put up fences and that involved pleasing gossip around kitchen tables. Then I was asked to give lectures: more words, more chat, more talk.
All of this still goes on which is lovely. The added extra that is nudging into my life are MEETINGS. In capitals. I spend a lot of time in MEETINGS. Client meetings, magazine meetings, show meetings and, above all, RHS meetings. I even had a board meeting the other day: it made me feel very grown up and slightly queasy at the same time. The saving grace was the supply of very good cakes from Patisserie Valerie.
This week in particular has been very talky. It began at Grand Designs in Birmingham where I made a good start by falling off the stage. In my eagerness to point at something on the screen I fell into a barely concealed void. I felt much like David Douglas toppling into the animal trap (ii). Except that, fortunately, it was not occupied either by a wild bull nor decorated with sharpened stakes. The Grand Designs audience is interesting because they are not really gardeners: most of them are more interested in home improvements, enormous 3D televisions, solar panels or catching a glimpse of Kevin McCloud. That is not to say that they are not appreciative but the questions are more straightforward.”Can I grow roses in my garden?” was one “How do I make a raised bed?” asked another. To those of us who have been doing this gardening lark for a while these seem so basic as to be not worth asking but there are plenty of people who are eager and curious and completely in the dark. The other advantage is that I can be pretty sure that I know most of the answers and am unlikely to be caught out too often.(iii)
Secondly I went to Gloucestershire to give a talk in aid of the Maggie’s Centre in Cheltenham in the company of the journalist, Bon viveur and twinkle toed dance floor diva, Stephen Lacey and internationally renowned garden designer, Tim Rees. Tim has the added distinction of having been my course tutor at the Inchbald in 1984. He is polite enough not to remember the time I fell asleep on my desk and dribbled of the pages of the Gertrude Jekyll’s winter planting guide (iv) nor to recall my frequent absences. The three of us talked and had lunch.
But the day was not over: I delivered another lecture on the way home. This time at Armscote Manor in aid of the Shipton Home Nurses. I was the Dan Pearson body double as he was supposed to do it and was suddenly confined to bed with a soaring fever. My halo is glowing so brightly that passing aeroplane pilots have to wear sunglasses.
The next bit of talk was in Wales at the Llanover Garden School where I shared the bill with the redoubtable Matt Biggs who talked about fruit. I talked about Triumphs and Disasters. Another very good lunch. I have been to Wales twice this year and on both occasions the sun shone, the hills glowed, the sheep wandered around picturesquely, the rivers flowed and there was absolutely no sign of any rain at all. I don’t understand what everybody is complaining about and suspect it might be something invented by the Welsh to keep out the English.
I have also laid out a lot of plants and tried to see all my clients as I am about to vanish into partial purdah for a bit while I begin to grow my Movember moustache. If I remember rightly the first couple of weeks are really horrible, I have one lecture to deliver on the 5th November (for the London College of Garden Design where I am championing a potentially iconic garden). I apologise now to anybody considering this as I will look a fright. But in a good cause.
The picture is of a particularly dramatic sunset hitting the branches of a gnarly chestnut. I am listening to nothing as I am in Cornwall loafing around and everybody else is having a Sunday afternoon snooze.
(i) I remember particularly playing the Ride of the Valkyries at top volume while digging a hole in the garden of Florence Welch’s (as in Florence and the Machine) mother’s garden. I imagine it was quite as annoying for the neighbours as Radio One.
(ii)David Douglas discoverer of the Douglas Fir, Sitka Spruce.Lodgepole Pine and others died in Hawaii in 1834 by falling into an occupied pit trap.
(ii) The answer to Question one is Yes.
(iv) I still have the book. With stains. And library label.
You do need to be careful about meetings. They are full of illusions of achievement. Weeding is similar.
That is, perhaps, the most profound and exact statement I have ever read.
One of the great Victorian female travellers – I think it was Isabella Bird – claimed she was saved by her sturdy leather skirt when she fell into a pit trap with spikes.
Perhaps you should equip yourself with a sturdy leather kilt if you intend to plunge off the stage on a regular basis.
I think perhaps a leather kilt would suitably enliven all future RHS meetings.
However, if one is going to fall off things while wearing a kilt then suitable attention must be paid to undergarments to avoid distress to the audience.
Oh dear – was there a mattress to cushion your fall? I’m reminded of the scene in ‘Family and Other Animals’ when they went to see an opera where the diva fell to her death from the battlements. Only the mattress they used to catch her fall proved to be a tad bouncy and she kept on reappearing- much to the audience’s delight.
Having been in Wales at the same time as you, I had a similar conversation with Karen (An Artist’s Garden) re the weather.
A mattress.
That is a very good idea: I will make it part of my contract for all future engagements.
Good luck with Movember Moustaches. Having cheated shamelessly, I have a 3 week headstart on you. The fuzz on my lip is my constant, irritating, unwelcome companion. Like a whining child, it makes itself obvious at the worst possible moments and causes me the deepest embarrassment in public. My mother has instructed me to wear a Burka but I’ve explained that I dislike wearing drag in public.
Listening just to the Ride of the Valkyries really doesn’t cut the mustard. You should design parterres to the music of Parsifal, save Tanhauser for creative planting exercises and only perform Götterdämerung when a major project has been completed without a single complaint from your client. Do remember, too, that Wagner’s suspiciously close friend, King Ludwig 2 of Bavaria ran naked into the Starnberger lake and drowned himself. The great man’s music can cause an impulse to suicide, at times, though whether because of the need for relief, or a kind of divine ecstasy isn’t clear.
Finally, I did warn you about those RHS meetings.
You are a shameless cheat, Colborn but due to your distinguishedness and extreme age we have chosen to forgive you.
I have started a little early (five days now) in order to try and keep level.
I did listen to other bits of Wagner it is just that Valkyries and Holes seem to go well together.
Please could you contrive to fall off things more often in your posts? Or, just write about it, even if it didn’t happen? I shall be visiting this godforsaken corner of the interweb with increased frequency in the hope that you can oblige me in this.
If that is what it takes to keep my audience satisfied then that is what I will do: I can fall off pedestals, skips, jetties, fences or toadstools if required.
If all else fails http://struts.co.uk/party-fancy-dress-shop/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=7001&ref=1
I will keep that in reserve in case of fast onset facial alopecia.
The story of Douglas fir cones is one of my favourites (all the little mouses hiding in there)
I did not know this story and, yes, I did say “Awwwwwww…” on reading it.
Just in case you need to have a weep http://bit.ly/tWpAWu
I spend my working life in meetings, I am that sad silent women sitting quietly scribbling down everything everyone says and then transcribing it into the decisions we would have like to come out of the meeting!
I told you the lunch was good at Llanover
It was a very superior fish pie.
I have spent far too much time in meetings but I have at least developed excellent skills for shortening the torture. For example the phrase “I think we’ve covered that point haven’t we? Shall we move on?” is expecially useful – particularly if you remember that this should be delivered as a single word so as not to allow anyone to interject – ie Ithinkwevecoveredthatpointhaventweshallwemoveon”.
Also, a random excuse can be thrown in to enable one to leave a meeting early. I’ll admit mine aren’t usually very inventive, but provided you have already pushed back your chair and reached the door before anyone has clocked this you should be OK. Only last week I departed abrutly with the phrase “Sorry but I’m going to have to head off now. My risotto will be getting chilly.”
I think that is a masterful excuse.
It leaves people worried: “Did she really say Risotto? as in rice and prawns and things?”
“Surely not it must have been some exotic Latin plant name of which we have not heard.”
“Wow. That woman, she is both wise and powerful. Let us give her more money”
“Yes. And some new fingerpaints.”
In the bad old days when I had to go to interminably boring meetings I developed the art of fugueing – removing myself into my imaginary world which was far more interesting. Unfortunately this would mean I wouldn’t have a clue what happened in the meeting and would have to try and find out if there had been anything relevant to me. Fugueing is quite a useful accomplishment although it always worried me I wouldn’t snap out of it at an appropriate moment.
I was rather under the impression that you were still fugueing.
It is that far away look in your dreamy eyes.
Or is that just Spook fatigue?
James, Happy to hear that the Welsh weather was kind to you on two occasions this year. VP says she will never believe me when I bleat on about the dreadful rain here!
The gnarly chestnut image is wonderful – love the light at this time of year.
I dont “do” meeting, never have and to old to learn how to do them now – but I imagine that a board meeting would be a very grown up thing to do.
K
Regretfully, experience prevents the provision of much empathy for your bouts of meetings. Having worked in the financial services sector for many years, I have endured mountains of meetings with bankers. Need I say more? For comic respite though, I can recommend daring fellow colleagues to include specific mischievous words/phrases in presentations. ‘Claudia Schiffer’s knickers’ was one of the best ones… The pinnacle of success was finding some of terms printed in legitimate financial news coverage, without any bankers raising an eyelid!
When is your next lecture?????
I’d suggest that the correct phrase for your title is “one good tern…” but you could accuse me of flipping you the bird.
One day, I’d like to hear you talk. You may fall off the stage or not, at your option.