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28


BRIEF ENCOUNTERS


The Chelsea Flower Show’s carbon footprint can’t really by justified by the promotion of plants and gardening, in a nation already devoted to greenery. But one particular scheme had its heart – and its plants – in the right place. Veronica Simpson braves the crowds of plant- aficionados to find out more


THE CHELSEA FLOWER SHOW (CFS) is a major landmark – probably the major landmark – in the UK garden lovers’ calendar. It’s also one of the biggest London events for corporate hospitality, with tickets to the annual gala dinner going for nearly £800 a pop, and an estimated 10,000 glasses of champagne sold throughout its week, consumed by visitors, media, celebrities and corporate guests. But I have never been. And as gardening has become an ever-growing passion of mine, I was excited to be offered a chance to visit this year, as a guest of Hospitalfield, a delightful, 19th-century Arts and Crafts mansion in Arbroath that has an ambitious residential programme and inspiring gardens I have written about previously in FX’s pages. Hospitalfield’s medieval walled gardens –


remnants of an earlier monastery – were replanted in 2021 by garden designer Nigel Dunnett, and are now a key part of the historic house’s visitor appeal, enhanced by its remote, coastal location. It was Dunnett’s idea to bring something special to Chelsea, under the Hospitalfield banner, funded by Project Giving Back (the CFS’s charitable funding programme to see gardens re-used). Chelsea is the biggest opportunity for exposure for any gardener or horticulturalist, so the appeal for Dunnett was obvious. What was less obvious was the benefit to his client. My first impressions, looking around the


festival site, were not inauspicious. ‘It seems to be more about shopping and spending than plants and the environment,’ I grumbled inwardly, fighting through the crowds on


streets lined with stalls advertising luxury outdoor furniture, designer trugs and trowels, and bespoke conservatories. Te central marquee was a mosh pit of silver-haired ladies (and a few men) jostling to grab bargains: three for £12 on agapanthus plugs; elegantly packaged astrantias at £55 for a bagful (I suspect the local garden centre could have offered a better deal). Meanwhile, around the perimeter, the ‘Show Gardens’ held visitors at bay behind secure fencing. Instead of feeling buoyed by the company of fellow nature and plant lovers, I found myself wondering: what is the environmental impact of this annual exhibition? How can people who love plants and care about the planet justify shipping all this earth, these rocks, all the supporting structures, and these living blooms, all this way. Furthermore, afterwards, did they trash them or ship them back again? But a moment of respite arrived as I


landed at the Hospitalfield Arts Garden, designed to demonstrate the hardy plants that thrive on Scotland’s windswept east coast. Teir purple, pink and yellow blooms peppered the undulating mounds of sand, banked up with curving ‘ribs’ of what looked like Corten steel, but which turned out to be sustainably sourced timber, stained to look like Corten steel. Tucked away in the far corner was a small studio (supplied by Te Bothy Project, a charity that provides bespoke studios in the landscape for arts residencies), adorned with artist Bob and Roberta Smith’s colourful placards, declaring ‘All Schools Should Be Art Schools’, and ‘Gardens Are Te New Galleries’.


Right: Tucked away in the far corner of the the Hospitalfield Arts Garden was a small studio adorned with artist Bob and Roberta Smith’s colourful placards, declaring ‘All Schools Should Be Art Schools’, and ‘Gardens Are The New Galleries’


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