Null points from plant hunters
I can occasionally get hooked on reality TV shows but what I can’t bear is all those annual award ceremonies. Best pop record, most marvelous screenplay, largest dog, funniest joke and cleverest family, where will it all end. To me the RHS Chelsea Flower show over in England is the Oscar equivalent for the Horticultural World and it’s just not my thing. This year, however, the West Cork weather during that particular week, like all the others in early summer, was miserable. Every other person told me that this meant a guaranteed perfect June and July, which I was quite happy to believe, especially with a River Shannon Cruise booked and paid for. Anyway my only escape was the cosy living room as my usual glasshouse retreat was as damp and depressing as the rest of my garden.
Warming in front of the fire, flicking channels I came across the Chelsea coverage from the BBC, co-hosted by our charming re-cycling guru and National treasure, Diarmuid Gavin. My first evening of viewing told me, amongst other things, how trendy the native Foxglove had become. I was thrilled, as I just happened to have a few growing in one of my borders. They probably would not survive the now daily battering from the east wind but they were much sought after by fashionable gardeners in posh parts of London. Who knew. Not bad except I found out the next day that I had watched a round up of the 2004 show and that, Foxgloves were now ‘so last year’. Fashion is so fickle.
The main focus is on the Show Gardens. Designer gardens destined to be part of a glossy Coffee table book, flicked through while waiting for the waiter to bring the menu in some fine dining restaurant. The designers ranged from wise old veterans to confident young pretenders all with budgets of six and seven figure numbers. This however does not guarantee success, although I suspect the winner of a previous 59 consecutive medals knew that he wouldn’t be going home empty handed. Tears of joy and disappointment, one entry didn’t get any medal at all, null points as they say in Eurovision. Maybe not as blatantly unfair as this year’s Song Contest Semi-final but a nod and a wink seemed the order of the day.
Improved varieties of this and brand new types of that, plants on demand where anything is possible. It was all a million miles away from what goes on in my humble garden. I honestly think that the great plant hunters of old might just be turning in their graves. With most of the British Royal Family and a vast array of celebrities in attendance, it is no surprise that I have never bothered with it before. By the middle of the week even the gorgeous Mr Gavin’s colourful wardrobe could not maintain my interest. Some people dream of a visit to Chelsea personally I’d rather tidy the bear pit which is my twin teenage sons bedroom.
Written 3rd May 2005
