Chelsea

One of our grand plans when we returned to the UK was to get out more.  This idea has been somewhat thwarted by the other half’s job re-location to Saudi, and while as an independent modern woman I am more than happy to do a lot of things on my own, sometimes it’s nice to have a bit of company.

Last year for my birthday daughter no 1 promised me tickets to this year’s Chelsea Flower Show.  The dates for Chelsea coincided with her graduation show so every effort was made to ensure the husband was home – and after an extended eight week stay in Saudi, he was.

We set off in great excitement.  The worse thing about living abroad for a few years is you forget just how bad a British summer can be.  You look back through rose tinted spectacles to barbeques that never really happened and days sat in deck chairs that in reality were nothing more than a five minute break with the cardigan off

I don’t think we could have picked a worse day to go to Chelsea. Friday afternoon, 9 degrees. I didn’t just need boots and a coat, I needed a hat, gloves and a scarf.

As we walked towards the Royal Hospital grounds we passed a wasteland of abandoned umbrellas. The show itself was awash with plastic ponchos, the grand pavilion full of bedraggled gardening enthusiasts, by nature a hardy lot, desperately trying to get out of the rain.

We saw all the show gardens – our tickets were for evening entry after the coach and day trippers had left for home and the crowd had thinned out.  We also saw Alan Titchmarsh – several times, in fact I think he was probably stalking us.  At least I now know where my licence fee goes – exactly how many lighting/camera/sound technicians does it take to make a TV programme? Far too many!

The carefully crafted and created displays were stunning and highly inventive.  I was pleased to see many of the gardens carried a cottage garden theme, in the planting if not in the rather structured design.  I felt rather chuffed that I too had planted aquilegia’s (columbines) in my own garden, as these really did seem to the flower of the show.

Stands and stalls were full of arty ideas for your garden, sculptures, ornaments, wonderful wicker furniture that to be honest, in this climate, no one is ever going to sit on unless it is permanently placed in doors.

After the show we decided not to head back to our B&B (or as we later discovered B & make your own B) to get changed, but headed straight for Sloane Square and the first restaurant we saw that looked like it had tables free.  Half an hour wait? Didn’t mind at all, as long as we could wait in the dry and in warm.