This is quite weird.
I started writing this blog in an hotel in Earls Court, London SW5.

Disadvantages included frequent floods and an electrical system that was both eccentric and unpredictable (the simple act of turning on the bedside light and the toaster simultaneously led to a loud bang and complete darkness). I also once opened the kitchen cupboard to find a large ginger cat chilling amongst the tins of beans. Someone must have left the front door open overnight: you could do that as no self-respecting burglar would ever have considered us a target. The street had two sex shops: I remember wandering past one of them and recognising the bloke on the cover of an, ahem, “Special Interest Magazine” as someone with whom I had once been at school. Both emporia are gone and have been replaced with vegetarian restaurants. This is the Earls Court skyline.
Anyway, I am staying here for the Annual General Meeting of the RHS which is about as far as you can get from those days .It is a year since I was elected to Council and the time has flown. I am not absolutely sure that I have yet revolutionised the place but hopefully have done something useful apart from loafing around the press office eating chocolates. The AGM is a bit odd as very few people turn up and those that do seldom come unburdened by some sort of axe that requires grinding. Yet again the council voting has been a bit shabby as about 1% of the membership bothered to vote: fewer, I think, than last year. That really is something about which we can do something.
I have also conducted an auction at the Garden Museum. The form is that various eminences (and Jo Thompson) design and plant some pots which are then sold off in order to help pay for an intern to work for a year at the museum, gardening and being useful. My job is to stir up the assembled bidders and persuade them that the one thing which will make their lives complete is a custom planted pot. I have done it for the past three years and it is possibly the most draining gig I have done. Still, it worked and we raised over five thousand quid. Here is a picture of me trying desperately to flog off Cleve West’s effort (sold for £200 to include a quick rummage with the creator).
It is my second Garden Museumy thing in under a week as last Thursday I had forty-six people for the day in aid of the GM. It rained pretty consistently through the day but was jolly- if a little chaotic and rushed. Forty-six gardeners are very difficult to keep under control: a few always wandered off somewhere when nobody was looking. They started in my garden and then trundled off to two others of varying maturity. I enjoyed myself, hope they did too. We visited a large pond we dug a couple of years ago – I named it Bradbury Water after my friend Kate who likes frogs – it has settled in very well. Here, judge for yourselves: you can’t really beat water and grass.
Apart from that we have had the glorious Cottesbrooke Gardeners’ Fair which, for the first time in five years, was a bit wet and muddy (ii). Still, even though cars had to be pushed out of muddy car parks and rain dripped from every surface, everybody remained cheerful. The nurseries did well and the food was good, my borders looked delightful and even the new annual meadow we planted in the Pool garden showed promise – though not yet any flowers. It will get there in the end: how do I know that? because mine which was planted at the same time is currently sprouting Linarias all over the place (see above). A couple of weeks late but you cannot control ol’ ma nature.
Other things are happening but you probably have better things to do than sit here reading about them. The best things are mostly meadows anyway so here is a rather handsome one we planted a couple of years ago in Buckinghamshire. Finally it is beginning to grow into itself: it was planted on appalling sticky chalk clay: good for wildflowers, crap for most other things. Both this picture and the one of the pond would look better if the sky was blue.
I am listening to Da Da Da Da by martina Topley-Bird. It has very easy lyrics.
The picture is of one of the Linarias from my orchard meadow.The weather has not been kind to this little project as much of the seed drowned in the rain and there has also been a most alarming outbursting of young teasels. And rabbits.
And to think I was willing to stand on my chair for you……
You will forever owe me that one…
The cockpit! Go on, admit it, you’re still rather proud of that name aren’t you? Maybe that’s what you need to bring to the RHS – a more risque nomenclature. That would perk things up a bit – or at least result in some axes being sharpened.
We are quite proud. Better than “Would you like to see my cupboard under the stairs containing a slightly rancid duvet”. Or maybe not.
I also lived in a shared house that cost £10.00 a week and because it was so cheap I stuck it out for 5 years. My overriding memory is of various housemates knickers permanently drying on the rusting radiators and the arguments over who should decide what we watched on TV given the living room was shared but the colour tv was mine! Oh Happy Days – not. Oh yes and the henna thing – I occasionally henna’ed my long hair leaving the bathroom splashed with the stinking overcooked spinach concoction – that didn’t go down so well either. Perhaps I should start using henna again – does it cover greys?
We did not have nearly enough drying knickers. In fact I am not sure if many things got washed.
There was a laundrette at the end of the road but given the choice between buying cigarettes and doing the washing…..
Knickers got washed at my similar youthful establishment. Mainly because the ancient washer provided an excellent view of the bathtub.
This shows the importance of sight lines and focal points in design.
And of the desirability of water features and functioning fountains.
I love your evocation of those happy days of far off youth – and the contrast to the lack of attendance at the RHS meeting. Your posts are always very witty and look at everything from a off-kilter angle – quite addictive!
Thank you for visiting and being so polite.
Although “far off youth” is a depressingly accurate phrase!
One of my sisters worked in a boutique in the Earl’s Court Road while she was at college, at the time you must have been there – I would travel up to see her and people-watch. I loved it there. It was the first time I had a kebab – it seemed very exotic! Lots of aussies, as I recall.
I would love to come at one of your auctions some time. It must be entertaining to watch someone scratch his head wondering how on earth did he get convinced to buy a potted plant which he didn’t need at all. The wonders of sales talk.
Great post James, I have just one question: “I remember wandering past one of them” are you sure you was outside? lol
Like Dawn I was rather amused by the name ‘the cockpit’. Very funny.