After the emotional wrench of Sunday when the staging team
depart amidst hugs, tears and promises to do it all again exhaustion takes over
for a few hours on Sunday evening. The exhibit looks fantastic. I always say
it’s our best ever and this time I have no doubt. Pools, plants sculptures,
buildings, seating, and of course plants all truly superb.
Monday dawns cool and grey. I get into the show with John
around 8.30.Rick and the girls have been there since 7, preening, cleaning and
finishing. Press launch happens all too
quickly: kisses, compliments and pictures. This is followed by the usual
uncomfortable feast of fish and chips in the cool and breezy uncomfortable
seating area outside the Pavilion: just another face of Chelsea.
A change of outfit in the shed and then is time for the
Royals. I’m not going to list them because I nearly always get correct titles
wrong. It is enough to say we were honoured with most including Her Majesty the
Queen. Amazing experience once again.
Then its Gala Evening. Our Beazley guests arrive promptly
and I deliver an introduction to the exhibit. Lovely group keen to see Chelsea.
We manage to escape briefly for a visit to the Australian Garden . In the
amazing elevated tree house based on the flower of the Warratah I believe,
Chelsea show feels a distance away. It feels like an out of body experience.
Back in the Pavilion the daylight has faded and the power of
our lighting takes over. Paul has done an amazing job: the front glass and
copper fountains are magical. This is an experience for a moment in time: my
camera has run out of battery, I have to leave for dinner at The Ivy, but I
won’t forget this picture.
Then it’s back to Astons to load up our luggage. Rick
comments that the British Army on the move in Afghanistan have less kit: by a
long way think. Back home unload
luggage, put on washing, charge netbook, open post, cook pasta, pour a glass of
wine: then I look out through the conservatory. I haven’t seen the garden for a
week. It’s so vibrantly green. My tulips are at their tallest and fullest and
have awaited my return: thank you. The
first alliums are sparkling above the border. This is a real garden; its
different, quieter, less frantic. My other garden in London does it all in a
week; this one paces itself and delivers throughout the year. I need to hold
this vision in my mind when I finally tear myself away from Chelsea on Friday.
This is the pain relief at the end of the show.
But then I still have three days to go of my Chelsea 2013.
It’s like being half way through a holiday. You can’t bear it to end so you
savour every day, telling yourself there is still time to indulge. Wednesday
Beazley guests at The Royal Hospital and into the show. I hope the rain stays
away from Planet Chelsea.
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