Chelsea is all over for another year and, while not as grumpy about things as the Award Winning Mr Colborn, I am quite relieved that it is all over. It is not so much the show as the general appallingness of trying to sleep in London against a background of traffic and rumbling machinery.
Everybody else has now covered the goings on although certain people are still in disgrace for not coming to find me and say hello: I feel justified in pursuing a policy of Naming and Shaming here. Bloggers who came to say Hello when I was in theatre: VP and friend, Emma T, Cleve West - although Emma was Tweeting throughout the talk and Cleve wandered in looking for the loo.
People who came to the show and loafed about making use of the facilities without coming to say hello: the Award Winning Arabella Sock (again), Rascals (whether fat or otherwise), Trillium, Deb Carrots (i), The Garden Monkey (ii), Dawn.
I will accept some excuses but not “I couldn’t find you” as I was in a bloody great tent with a cheesy picture of myself prominently displayed. I promise you that I smell quite acceptable most of the time and could probably have provided grapes (seedless) and biscuits (chocolate).
Saturday was a short day so I only had three gigs to deal with which left time for my daughter to give Alan Titchmarsh a hard time (apparently he said “What does James A-S know about gardening anyway?” on television which, very sweetly, raised the hackles of some of my female relatives. I missed the incident but it had something to do with the Joe Swift dahlia.) We also hung around for a bit of the sell-off which is always entertaining to watch: especially watching people totter under the weight of eight foot overbred Delphiniums. (Does anybody know anybody called Delphinia? it is rather a good name.) I attended sell-off with serious intent once, many years ago, when I arrived accompanied by three chaps with wheelbarrows: we carted off a lot of stuff and sold it on to a client who was temporarily impressed. The picture is of Tony Smith giving away Bizzie-Lizzies. Many of his and Tom Hoblyn’s plants went off to be Guerilla Gardened at Sipson: the intended site of the Heathrow third runway.
Other things wot that I have done:
1. Guided about forty slightly drunk people around the show after hours.
2. Listened to David Domoney suggest horticultural uses for a series of household objects (including using g-strings as tree ties and Viagara to chirp up cut flowers.)
3. Went to New Covent Garden market to buy vases. Haven’t been there for many years and was distressed that the wobbly coffee trolley that was steered around by a grumpy Italian has been superceded by a cafe selling Latte. The staff also wear hygenic latex gloves rather than smoking heroically. Some modern improvements lessen life’s experiences.
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5.My Irises look fab. This is the one which Nigel rightfully covets. It is without name. Perhaps I should christen it Iris Delphinia. Or Iris Award Winning Blog. (iii)
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6. Learnt extreme bladder control as there is very little turn around time between lectures and the queues for the facilities at Chelsea can be lengthy.
On my part I have been very backward in my blog reading etc. Will endeavour to catch up: although Award Winning persons who do not come and say hello (twice) should not expect much.
The picture is of my mother-in-law’s tree Paeony.
I am listening to Drive Me Home by the Evinrudes.
Footnotes;
(i) & (ii) These last two were actually in my theatre without even leaving a short anonymous note or packet of Twiglets. (Incidentally didn’t Twiglets always used to come in a box? like Maltesers when one bought them as a present for one’s mother?)
(iii) While not wishing to blow my own trumpet (much) I would just like to remind anybody who is interested that this Blog is the proud holder of not just one award (like the Sock) nor even two (like the aged New Kid, Mr Colborn) but three. Just so a pecking order can be established. Obviously I lag behind Yolanda who holds about 17,000 - although they mostly involve cats and being a bit foreign. So they might not count.
