As regular readers – although I will admit that the readers are almost certainly much more regular than the writer- are probably aware we moved house a couple of months ago and are currently installed in a small damp cottage while solicitors hesitate and faff over the conveyancing of our new house. It has not been an experience that I would recommend to any of you.

However, there is light at the end of the tunnel in that we do at least have a probable destination and the prospect of a project. It has given us something to look forward to – I was going to post a picture of said house and potential garden but fear that that would be a little foolish before the deal was finally finalised. Finally.

So that is a pleasure that will have to wait a little bit. Sorry. You’ll like it when the moment actually comes, I promise. It is a very nice house with a rather different garden to Blackpitts.
More leaves.
Less colour.
Maybe.

Since I last wrote this blog other things done include, apart from the hell of actually packing up twenty years of live and moving…..
Designing some gardens
Writing sundry stuff for the nice people who ask.
Visiting various gardens (including a particularly fabulous one in Wiltshire – see above).
Sat on assorted RHS committees. Some fascinating and some not quite as gripping..
Filmed a four part television series for the BBC – which we expect to transmit in about January. It also features Joe Swift and Ann-Marie Powell. I think it may well be quite good.
Gone to Bordeaux – very lovely.
Gone to Cornwall – ditto.
Been to see Kate Bush – who was organised by my very clever sister.
Gave a lecture among the dahlias at Kelmarsh Hall.
I have introduced young Mr Titchmarsh to an audience brimming with middle-aged zeal at the Cheltenham Literature Festival.
Eaten half a turbot at Sheekys.
Ordered a handsome tweed jacket.

We have produced another episode of the very delicious intoGardens iPad App, Winter 2015. It contains a whole raft of rather wonderful things including Cleve West hanging around the desert at Joshua Tree, Allan Pollok Morris on the newest stretch of the High Line in New York, Catharine Howard whistle stopping around some Italian gardens, Andy Vernon camping it up in Chicago, pink flowers, seventeen stories of remarkable trees written by some very eminent people, and introduction to Twiggery. (ii)

I have been enjoying the Boston Ivy (Parthenocissus tricuspidata). For twenty years I thought it was Virginia Creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) but this year I looked closer and realised my mistake.

3

Right now this minute I am sitting on RyanAir flight 667 to Dublin. I have written before about RyanAir and their general ghastly dreadfulness and nothing has got better in the intervening years.

In the Seventies I used to travel up and down the country – mostly to parties at various country houses, to some of which I even had an invitation (iii) – by National Coaches. I am sure that nowadays they have all mod cons: lavatories, wi-fi, hostess trollies and antimacassars. In those days they had nothing except seats and the only comfort was an ashtray in the smoking section (the rear seats on, I presume, the assumption that if one was moving forwards then the exhaled smoke would be blown backwards). The journey was interrupted at various service stations for toilet stops and cups of tea. Quite often, if travelling after a rough night, I would fall asleep on my neighbour’s shoulder and, on one particular occasion, dribble on their jackets.
My point is that RyanAir is very like an airborne version of those 1970’s coach services.

Part of my distaste for RyanAir is that, almost from the moment of takeoff I find myself bracing for the almost inevitable self congratulatory fanfare and that annoying voice trilling about how many flights are on time. It is almost worth wishing for a delay.

I digress, I am in Dublin to give a talk to almost all of the horticultural students currently at college in Ireland. When I say “a talk” I actually mean “two talks” as they cannot all fit into one lecture theatre so I have given the lecture twice, back to back. Needless to say everybody was delightful and I also fitted in an early morning walk along the pier at Dun Laoghaire and a handsome bit of hake.

On the flight back my foolish wish not to hear the RyanAir “We love ourselves because this flight is on time fanfare” came true as the plane was an hour late.

Be careful what you wish for, people.

The picture at the top is of a hairy begonia leaf. I am listening to Burnt out Town by Tom Petty.

(i) Allow me, for the benefit of those of you who are not yet aware, to explain the Twig. It is a little snibble: an article exactly one hundred words long written on any subject at all for the intoGardens website. They are fun to write, easy to read and anybody who wants to have a go should send me a Twig. 

(iii) There was a time when I was very good at gatecrashing parties: even parties at the other end of the country. Such dedication to the wholehearted pursuit of whatsoever happened to available for pursuit was exhausting.

More than a month since I last wrote this blog. Ooops.

Odd how sometimes one has lots to say and other times the conversation dries up a bit and we lapse into a convivial silence for a bit. I then worry that I should be blogging while you sit back and enjoy the peace.

I also have a mild problem in that (whispers) this is not the only blog I write and sometimes one of the others snaffles the ideas. Yes, I am a blog bigamist, I am faithless and feeble of will, I will chase after any old blog shaped skirt that winks at me to the detriment of this old and faithful thing. Unspeakable and caddish behaviour but, in my defence, (which is a pathetic defence) I am going through a mid life blog crisis and will attempt to mend my ways.

At times like this I think the snappy checklist school of blogging is what is called for: in no particular order except the order in which they tumble from my head.

1. Last month was the Garden Media Guild Awards at which I won nothing although the sibling of this blog (see above – the use of the word sibling makes my unfaithfulness somehow worse) was shortlisted. I fear that there may be a drift away from self-indulgent nonsense blogging towards fact and useful stuff about gardening. Such is the way of the world.

2. Chelsea Press Launch. On the same day I compered the press launch for Chelsea Flower Show 2013. It was in the Connaught Hotel (thanks to the kindness of M&G) where each person was provided with a little tin of mints: to be perfectly accurate two tins of mints: one from M&G and one from the Connaught. Small tins of mints are obviously the absolute bees-knees of corporate gifting.

3. I returned to the Connaught after the GMG Awards thing. Many repaired to the pub, some hastened home and others simply lay down in the nearest doorway and slept. I thought that what the afternoon demanded was not a hot, sweaty and loud pub but ridiculously expensive cakes and small sandwiches to the sound of a harpist. We were an exclusive and generally delicious band of cake eaters – The Connaught has an exquisite entrance with a narrow revolving door. A proper one with brushes on the floor and room for no more than one person at a time.

4. I drove to Devon in the worst of the rain. Usually I am sweetness and light to my fellow man, always happy to give the benefit of the doubt and lend an umbrella to a stranger (i) but the odd moment of schadenfreude is always satisfying. Picture this: early morning, skiddy roads, grey skies, rain and general dullness. Everybody trundling along carefully avoiding accidents and driving too quickly through large puddles lest we soak pedestrians. Everybody? no, not everybody one person (sex unknown but the smart money is on male) in a low slung BMW is driving like a jerk. Swinging around, overtaking badly, all that stuff. We approach a large flood. I drive in, he drives in behind me. I drive out…….. Oh dear. I am alone.

5. Lectures: I seem to have given a load of lectures over the past month or so – at one I was described as “not as buff as Chris Beardshaw” which as good a thing as any to have as an epitaph. I know my place and I no longer have buttocks so taut you could bounce 2p pieces off them.

6. I have a newish car. I am unnecessarily thrilled by the little extras and left cold by the important bits. The engine size, mileage per gallon or resale value is of very little interest to me. I am, however, very excited by the fact that my telephone plugs into a little USB thing in the glovebox. That there is a button that shuts the boot automatically. That something beeps when I reverse anywhere near any solid objects – the closer you get, the more frantic the beep, this is particularly useful to avoid incidents such as this. All this and an entire picnic table in the back seat which I will never use.

7. I have laid out a lot of plants in various parts of the country. Sometimes in truly horrid weather. I have got an interesting project in Sussex at a garden called Borde Hill. We have just replanted a narrow border which is romantically named Paradise Walk. It has been stripped and replanted with a spatter of herbaceous stuff. There are Monardas, Kniphofias, Zizias, Geranium Rozanne and many other jolly things. I would show you a picture except that a patch of mud covered wityh pots is not a terribly inspiring sight. Instead I urge you to visit Borde Hill next summer and see for yourselves.

8. That is probably enough for the moment, other things have happened but if I tell you everything you will never get round to eating poultry and flatulent vegetables.

Next time I blog there will be a new Episode of intoGardens in the App store. It is a thing of extreme beauty and deserves to be seen by every iPad owner in the world. My problem is that I do not know all of them so would very much appreciate any help you might be inclined to shovel my way. Spread the word please, people and I will be forever in your thrall.

I am listening to a slightly stroppy ticket collector on the Euston-Manchester train. The picture is of the window of Scott’s Restaurant in Mount Street looking festive.

Happy Christmas to all and thank you for reading my tosh once again.

(i) This may be the reason why I have no umbrellas

I promised you new and possibly momentous news and I do not wish to disappoint the two blokes and a dog who hang around here waiting for something to happen.

It is very exciting. Although I have been fearfully disorganised/busy and should have published this on launch day a week or so ago. I feel a bit like the chef expounding about the flavour of the cake just after everybody had been distracted by the girl emerging from the top.

But I am going ahead anyway so please clap politely…

The news is a brand new, shiny and pretty innovative thing called intoGardens. It is a mixture of many things – sort of like sphinx or a manticore or the telekines, but much prettier. And with fewer bolt on animal parts.

It is a mixture of App and magazine,website and game. It is something completely new and ridiculously gorgeous – and, although I must admit I am occasionally prone to exaggeration and the odd flight of fancy I do not think that in this case I exaggerate unduly. However, I will admit to a certain pride and parental bias.

We have fabulous pictures, writing (from good people such as his excellency, Nigel Colborn and her magnificence Jean-Ann van Krevelen), gardens (one underwater, a couple in England and another in Elba), some fruits (including Mr Diacono), practical help (of both vegetable and ornamental varieties), soap operas, video content and audio book extracts. And you can buy stuff directly from within the App just by hitting a button. Whoosh.
Or Whoooooooooooooosh if you have a slow Internet speed.

It moves and talks and sighs romantically at you over lowered lashes.

This is, of course, not a solo effort as I have inveigled various gullible types to contribute and help out. Most notably Tiffany Daneff who is the editor, Ubinow (the developers) and Archie (my elder son) who is in charge of making sure all the assembled stuff is assembled in the right order. My thanks to everybody and, in particular, to the rest of my extremely tolerant family.

If you happen to have an iPad you should download it (for a mere £2.99) and if you don’t then there is a film of what you are missing here. You are missing a lot.
It will be published quarterly for the moment. We also have impeccably groomed Facebook and Twitter feeds

I am sitting on a bus travelling between Seattle and Vancouver while watching a film called Too Many Crooks which stars Terry-Thomas, Sid James, George Cole and Bernard Bresslaw. Terry Scott (as in Terry and June) has a short role as a plump policeman and Nicholas Parsons is a Tax Inspector.

(i) The backyard musical was a popular genre in the 1940s. Most of them starred Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland. Tupically a bunch of kids need to raise money for some good cause. They are let down by some impresario at which point one of them says “Hey, I got an idea. Let’s do the show right here!”

There is then much rushing around transforming the horse barn/old shed/school hall/whichever into a theatre and then they put on a show which is received with tumultuous appreciation and it all works out just fine. In Strike up the Band , for example, which culminates in a Busby Berkeley Conga.

There may be some chaste kissing as well.

At intoGardens we hope for all these things.

This blog has been alive for six years this month: both here and, previously, here.

Hooray!

Six years worth of drivel has trickled from my fingers to clutter up the outer reaches of the hypernet. Nobody noticed for quite a long time, which was okay but blogging is much more fun when you are certain that somebody is reading the thing.

What a sterling use of technology.

Sometimes I wonder what will happen to all this stuff that we broadcast. Will any of it exist in fifty years time?

Indeed, should it exist ? or should it just pop like floating soap bubbles colliding with a stationary hedgehog ? Will future historians ever show any interest in the billions of self-indulgent words that we have written? Who knows, but, almost every time I publish a blog post, it always strikes me as remarkable that it was only six hundred odd years ago that every individual book was laboriously copied out by monks with chilblained fingers and grubby habits. Each book cost a fortune and was mostly only seen by a handful of people, the subject matter was also somewhat limited being confined to religion. There was no illuminated detective fiction or saucy romance. Then Caxton and Gutenburg and that lot got going and soon the printed word was, while not exactly available to all, much more widespread. Nowadays any old sod can find an audience.

Anyway…

Spring is coming and there are things to be done. Included on my list of January achievements are:

Gone to listen to a recording of Gardeners Question Time in Spalding, Lincolnshire. My learned friend Nigel Colborn recently launched an impassioned defence of his home county but he skates over the bleakness of this particular area in favour of various wolds and luminaries such as Isaac Newton and Nicholas Parsons. There is nothing woldish about Spalding : unless your idea of an area of outstanding natural beauty includes heaps of sugar beet, concrete barns and ditches. Maybe I caught it on a bad day, in the wrong light or perhaps I missed the best bits.Anyway, when I got there the gloriously fragrant Matthew Wilson was on the panel so all was sunshine. It was interesting: I sat in a rather comfortable van with the sweetly scented Lucy Dichmont watching the broadcast while she uttered slight direction into the ear of Eric Robson. There was cake but not in the luxuriant quantities I had been led to expect.

I am very admiring of the GQT panel: my mind kept going blank when I tried to come up with an answer and I was not even out there snuggling up to Bunny and Christine. It is one of those perennial problems that I have: as soon as somebody asks me a specific question like “What shall I plant in my dark moist corners?” (or something similar) I have a moment of blankness when all I can think of are plants that thrive in the windswept aridness of the high plains. Somehow the brain eventually re-engages and I start spouting about ferns.

I have attended two meetings of the RHS Judging review panel. We are examining the show garden judging process which is interesting: we are also making progress which is excellent. There will be a public meeting in early February so that any interested parties can come and chip in their opinions.

I have collected a new and rather spiffy suit (single breasted birdseye).

I have organised some trees and seen assorted clients all of whom seem reasonably happy.

Had a very fine lunch with Cinead from the English Garden.

My daughter has become very keen on the idea of taxidermy. She has spent much of Christmas skinning things including nine moles and three squirrels. A skinned squirrel looks just like a rat.

Errrrr….. that is about it really.

Oh, and I am reaching the zenith of a very exciting project which will completely change the world of gardening media for ever. Details will follow very soon: please remain poised.

I am listening to You’ll be Sorry One Day by Slim Harpo.

The picture is of a frosted Phlomis.