Big aloe

Last Monday it was a fine clear morning and we thought to go to Wisley to see how the giant aloe inflorescence noticed at reference 1 was getting on - the one at home having been cut off, once the flowers were finished - without seed.

This turned out to be hopeless. We arrived at the car park at around 1015 and the place was already heaving with children and parents come to see the butterflies (from Central America). The car park management Gurkhas were up and running and we were directed to what had been the staff car park, between the rapidly filling Car Park No.1 and Car park No.2. Long queue to get into the hot wet part of the hot house, where the butterflies were, completely blocking access to the hot dry part of the hot house, where the aloes were. We tried peering in at the aloe in question from the outside and as far as we could tell it had not much changed from our last visit, although attempts to photograph it through the glass were a failure, the telephone not being able to cope with the sun on the glass.

So off to the 'Honest Sausage' for tea, which was quiet and sported an example of the all-terrain mobility devices offered by the garden for the convenience of customers. Perhaps I shall get to try one at some point. In the meantime I wonder about the nonsense that Wisley is getting into, with all its catering subbed out to some catering contractor who sees fit to dress up one of the tea shops as an honest sausage. Perhaps they are trying to keep up with the adventures at Chessington, a place which may get as many visitors as Wisley and probably takes a good deal more money. See reference 2. The RHS has come a long way since it was a society for learned botanists and horticulturalists, mostly chaps with tweeds and pipes. Quite a lot of them country parsons with time on their hands.

After taking tea, I was mistaken for a trusty. Making some conversational remark to a passing couple, the husband thought I was some pushy trusty and was very curt, almost rude. Eventually he softened to the extent of asking me the way to the bonsai. I think he was some kind of self-made business man - a theory which fitted the wife rather well - but I had a sneaking regard for his dislike of trusties, some of which can be garrulous and a real pain. As far as I am concerned the first rule of a trusty should be only speak when spoken to - a rule which did not, of course, apply to me as a member of the general public.

Shortly after that we passed what appeared to be a group of wannabee trusty's on an induction course, be inducted to the mysteries of herbaceous borders and rose beds. People of middle and later years, all kitted out in green RHS anoraks, names badges, wellies and so forth.

Lots of snowdrops. Some cyclamen, camellias and rhododendrons. Rather better witch hazel than we can manage on our brown clay.

A tweet in the form of a robin displaying a fanned tail as it landed, maybe 120 degrees of it. Something that I have never seen before, but obvious enough now that I have seen it. Fanning for landing, just like an aeroplane.

Then, just as we were leaving and I was thinking about how rarely one seems anyone with a fag on at Wisley, although I don't think it can be forbidden out in the gardens, I passed three people at it.

Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/01/aloe-four.html.

Reference 2: https://www.chessington.com/.

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