When we first bought Blackpitts – way back in 1992 – it was a bit bleak. Architecturally it had nothing to trouble Norman Foster, horticulturally there was nothing much except nettles and there was no wildlife. Except rats and starlings.

Since we have been here more and more creatures have moved in – although the starlings left pretty quickly (we mended the bargeboards and in the process inadvertently evicted them: haven’t seen one since). The first year there was a massive influx of ladybirds and everything else has followed. We have hedgehogs, toads, frogs, newts, butterflies, moths, aphids (of every colour), rabbits, squirrels and muntjac etc etc (1).

We also have birds in abundance: I was always a bit bored by birds but I am beginning to see the point. My grandfather used to feed the birds every afternoon at about 4.00: he sat on a bench with his pipe and a tin of peanuts while various tits and robins would come and feed from his hand.(2)

The presence of all this thriving wildlife rather backs up my principle (about which I drivel on occasionally in lectures) that it doesn’t matter much what you plant provided to plant something. It doesn’t necessarily have to be native, it just has to be alive.

If you plant things, wildlife will come.

Anyway, swallows….  they are the most divine of birds much more interesting than, say a common Dunnock,(3). They moved in a few years ago and now nest in almost all of the various barns and sheds that surround us  We spend an inordinate amount of time watching them swoop and chat and swerve (occasionally they dive in through my office door but and generally pretty unimpressed and leave soon afterwards). In the evening light they are particularly enchanting as the setting sun catches the reddish bits under their chins. The Creator must have been in a very good mood the day he (or she) invented Swallows. I can’t think of many other birds that are quite as enchanting.(4)

I went to a sensational garden on Thursday: Waltham Place in Berkshire. If you have not been then you should clear a space in your diary as soon as you can. It is open to the public on Fridays.Unless you are a group. It is owned by the Oppenheimers (the diamond people) and the garden was planted by Henk Gerritson starting in 1999. The structure of the garden is, I think, mostly Edwardian with stone edged ponds and brick pergolas draped with magnificent climbing roses. The planting that Mr Gerritson has inserted amongst these bones is light and airy and naturalistic (in a very good way). There is one garden full of Persicaria polymorpha (an excellent plant if you have space) and Telekias (that I thought were Inulas until I was put right by Toby and Chris Marchant from Orchard Dene). Another with fennel and Delphiniums and Sorrel etc etc etc. Go and see for yourselves, I can’t be expected to tell you everything!

It was organised by the estimable Tim Richardson and Dr.Noel Kingsbury (5) as a jaunt and a chance to hear some very earnest German designers talk about their work. We also had a very good dinner although, having arrived late (from seeing charming pug owning potential client) I also had to leave early.

Before pudding which was a slight blow.

I took some pictures but was told by the ever law abiding moral sentinel Ann-Marie Powell that I was not supposed to: I must have missed the sign. Do you think it is okay to put them on this Blog? Probably not, so I won’t except for this one of a Wisteria that could be absolutely anywhere.

I am very grateful to Susan Cohan who very kindly chose this Blog for her “From My Reader..” series. Susan is a thoughtful and experienced designer who works in New Jersey. She is also very sound on biscuits: Mallomars, in particular.

Interesting thing Blogging: I like to think that I write this stuff mostly because I rather enjoy writing and like a gentle chunter along my own synapses. Nobody pays me and nobody chases deadlines. I am, however, flattered that anybody reads it and – like most bloggers – get a slight spinal frisson every time somebody leaves a comment. It took a long time before anybody left one: I have sadly lost all the comments on my earliest posts so I cannot remember my actual deflowering.

In a perfect life I would like to see ten comments per post: that makes me happy. More than that is lovely . Less than that, and I begin to worry that I am being uncommentworthy and dull: which is a bit sad really. I shouldn’t really be bothered if the odd post gets two or three comments, after all most people have a long list of better things to do with their time (vi). I suppose that deep down (or not very deep down actually) I am really only writing to satisfy my own ego and blogging is really a big showy off thing. “Look at this, I wrote it. Say nice things please”.

I am about to migrate this Blog to a shiny WordPress site (the embryonic version is here) so I will probably have to tell you all lots of times. Sorry.

Four years ago I wrote really short posts, like this one.

Three years ago I was playing cricket: I am doing so again on Saturday although sadly not in the Gardeners world v River Cottage grudge match in Devon. Mine will be more civilised but I will miss the chance of seeing Mark Diacono struck in the box by one of Carol Klein’s nastier off-breaks. They will also almost certainly have more pork products available. You can go if you wish, details here.

The picture is of Echinops ritro flowers: I thought they looked a little other worldly.(7)

I am just listening to Bjork which is punishment enough for anyone. A track called Earth Intruders which starts off like the jungle book then there is some discordant wailing mixed with cowbells and it ends with a number of ships’ foghorns. I am unsure why I have not yet deleted this track from my library. Thank goodness it has just changed to Al Green singing Let’s Stay together.

1. These last three are not welcome in flower beds and run the risk of elimination should they transgress. Wildlife is all very well up to a point and a rabbit is definitely it.
2. My other experience with birds was via a friend of mine who is an obsessive bird watcher (he even runs birdwatching holidays from his hotel in Portugal). This always struck me as odd as at one point in our lives he was a particularly unsavoury motorcycle messenger. He had a disgusting sleeveless denim jacket that he wore over his leathers: enormous pride and prestige was wrapped up in how much oil and filth the garment retained. My mother washed and ironed it when he was staying with us: he never really recovered.
3. This does not mean that I have anything against Dunnocks, per se. I am convinced that they are useful members of society and loved by their mothers.
4. Although various tits (in particular blue,coal and long tailed), green woodpeckers, partridges, wrens, robins, ducklings and blackbirds are also charming. Actually, before I get into an argument, they are all charming except maybe Vultures (although they are quite useful if you have any carrion lying around).
5. I should add that Dr Kingsbury holds a horticultural doctorate and is absolutely the wrong fellow to question about any ailments from which you may suffer.
6. Toenail varnishing, for example, or exfoliation. Cleaning out livestock, washing up and lying in the sun drinking gin are also high up on the list of alternative activities.
7. You will have noticed an excess of footnotes here. This is because the excellent Cornflowerbooks said on Twitter that she liked footnotes (viii) and I try to keep everybody happy. Any requests?
8. I think she is a she but am not absolutely certain not having had the pleasure of being introduced

I threatened last time to write more fullsomely about Cottesbrooke so, just on the off chance that somebody is monitoring this blog for truth and honesty, I had better do just that.

But first I wish to talk briefly about jam sandwiches. I sat opposite a man on a train the other day (when I was trundling off to Sussex to meet a tree surgeon if you want the full story) who was eating  his lunch. Neatly wrapped in greaseproof paper were two rounds of strawberry jam sandwiches on white sliced bread. It is not something we see very much anymore in these days of wholegrain Ciabatta and exotic hams but it used to be a staple of the British diet. In Scotland it was called (and I know this from a childhood spent with Oor Wullie in the Sunday Post) a “jeely piece” and it was a staple of the packed lunch – before we started feeding our children on crudites and taramasalata (1).

I was particularly fond of marmalade sandwiches especially if they also involved the use of the crust of a Mothers Pride sliced loaf. I ate them in the bath after playing football. With Frank Coopers Oxford Marmalade: none of that Golden Shred stuff and nonsense.

And one more thing before I get to the point…(ii)

You know those people who send you emails pretending to be bankers/diplomats from exotic African countries? The ones who have suddenly got their hands on piles of cash and trunkloads of bullion. Why do they come up with such ridiculously enormous numbers? $30,000,000 is my latest offer from Dr Dangov Mukah in Burkina Faso. Surely if they say something a bit more realistic like $250,000 then more people are likely to tumble into their trap? $30,000,000 is so large as to only fool the very, very stupid or the very,very greedy and they might be two nearly identical groups. I feel that someone is missing a trick here: I may have to contact Dr Mukah with my suggestions.

Right, I was going to talk about Cottesbrooke.

Those of you with long memories or unfulfilling social lives will remember me writing about planting borders there way back in 2006. They have come on rather well as I mentioned in my previous post: there is also some interesting work by Arne Maynard – Cottesbrooke has always had a tradition of employing different designers  and has stuff by Geoffrey Jellicoe, Robert Weir Schulz and Sylvia Crowe. So, three years ago the first Cottesbrooke Plantfinders Fair was launched: masterminded by James Gladwin and Therese Lang (who set up the Westonbirt Festival and they sadly shortlived Future Gardens. The model is Le Domaine de Courson in France where they have been having regular festivals for a number of years. This is everything one could want from a plant fair. The setting is sublime, the nurseries and sundriesmen have been vetted for excellence by Therese. The owner is enthusiastic. The gardens look delightful and it will never be too crowded.

I think that these sort of fairs should be disseminated throughout the country. We have a lot of very pretty country houses with good gardens that could easily host this kind of event. In fact, if you own such a place please give me a yell. They are an antidote to the RHS Shows: don’t get me wrong, I adore Chelsea, Malvern, Hampton Court etc but it is good to have an alternative. Some days you want the full English, other days a bowl of fine museli and a banana will hit the spot.

If you see what I mean.

I have auctioned again this week. This time in aid of the Garden Museum. The aim was to raise £6000 towards the cost of an intern – who will look after the Museum garden as well as doing work experience with the like of Fergus Garrett at Great Dixter, helping Tom Stuart-Smith at Chelsea etc etc. The current intern, Matt Collins, has a blog here We raised £8000 in the end by auctioning off pots designed and planted by various eminences – including Andy Sturgeon, Mary Keen, Tom Stuart-Smith,Cleve West and Andrew Wilson (whose pot contained everything you need to make a Lancashire hotpot – excluding lamb chops which were to be sent under separate cover). Some were full and vibrant while others were minimal – the pots, not the eminences. This is Joe Swift’s which was particularly sparse and meaningful.

Things have overtaken me again as I now find myself having just returned from judging at a hot and sunny Hampton Court

I had a very jolly time and saw some excellent gardens – the Conceptual category was particularly spanking this year and we gave three Gold Medals out of six gardens. There was a really impressive student effort from Falmouth: all the more poignant as the excellent course there is about to close. This is a really annoying as it is a course that habitually produces good designers and is run by two excellent tutors, Richard Sneesby and Matt James.

Sometimes the axe falls on the wrong necks.

I also met a charming designer called Jill Foxley who reads this Blog. So…Hello and congratulations on your Silver-Gilt medal and designing the only garden at Hampton Court that contained a vast pink tap which exactly matched the colour of my shirt.

I am also very proud of my fine friend Sadie May Stowell also one a Silver-Gilt medal for her bee garden for Coppella  (apple juice people and nothing to do with Fabio). Sadie works in a garden I designed in Gloucestershire and I first met her years ago when she was very young and I was co-presenting (with Mr Beardshaw and the luscious A-M Powell) a Channel 4 daytime programme called The Great Garden Challenge. She won the competition with a series of darned fabulous gardens. This her second, and most successful, Hampton Court Garden.

I am aware that my blog reading/commenting record has been less than attentive over the past couple of months: I apologise but things have been a tiddly bit frantic recently. My show duties are now pretty much over for the season so hopefully I will have more time to sit a twiddle my thumbs, read blogs and generally procrastinate with the best of you.

I am listening to Nick Cave and the Bad seeds singing Midnight Man. The picture is of the sunflower field designed and planted by Jon Wheatly at Hampton Court.