Our trip to Chelsea this year was not so much memorable for the flora as for the rain! We managed to choose the day the heavens opened, but being of stalwart English stock we shrugged our shoulders and muttered something on the lines of "sods law".The great and the good were not quite so ubiquitous as last year, they were, undoubtedly, ensconced in some holy of holies, sheltering from the unforgiving deluge clutching some welcome pre-prandial plonk! But we were made of sterner stuff and dressed in all manner of Gortex - impervious to the rain - we trudged and slid about the place and stood and steamed in the "Great Pavillion" alongside the rest of the unwashed.
But it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, for, sheltering brings inevitable contact with others and we gladly rubbed shoulders with numbers of folks from many different corners of the UK. It's remarkable how the smell and taste of chips brings comfort in adversity and we were not immune to it either... how much more cheerful a tray of chips and an awning to shelter under makes you feel, not to mention all the jokers in the crowd never short of a quip to bring a ripple of laughter... we wouldn't have missed it!
And my favourite garden - no contest really... Cleve West, Cleve West, oh and Cleve West.
