This story starts on the tripod base of three cities on the West Coast of North America, starting with Portland, Oregon then Victoria, B.C. and Vancouver,B.C.
Bob and I were active members of the A.R.S (America Rhododendron Society) in 1975 and when we heard that the Portland Chapter was planning a trip to England, we sent for their itinerary. It looked good, but before we could book, that group was given the large task of holding the Spring Conference. They had to cancel the trip.
Bob had already hired a locum to cover his patients, he wanted to go to England where he had served in the Medical Corps during W.W. 2 for 5 years and see gardens instead of barbed-wire beaches, I had never been there, and we had the now cancelled itinery to follow. So we decided to go on our own.
One of our family members was attending U. Vic.and invited us to come to Victoria for an Open House Day. We went and enjoyed meeting one of his professors, who was a keen gardener. We told him of our plans and he said,”If you get to Cornwall be sure to visit my cousin and he’ll show you around”. He then gave us his cousin’s address.
We left from Vancouver May 15th on a Boeing 747 at 1:30 p.m.,expecting to be at Heathrow in about 8 hours. Somewhere over the Arctic Circle I looked across the aisle and saw flames coming out of one of the starboard motors! Staying reasonably calm we watched them slowly subside as the Captain’s very cool,laconic voice said, “We seem to be having a little trouble with one of the engines, we can’t get it started again. We could fly on three, but I think we will just go back to Vancouver and have the mechanics take a look at it , Sorry”
3:00 p.m. Back at the terminal.
They couldn’t fix it, we had to wait till they flew another plane from Montreal,so we rented a roomette, had a nap, showered, and went to dinner at 7:30 in the Terminal as Air Canada’s guests. They also telexed our hotel to let them know we would be late but to hold our room.
10:30 Through Security again, and finally re-boarded 11:30 and were air-borne by midnight.
Arrived safely in England May 16th. Change our watches to London time. 4:00 p.m. We got in touch with Cathy and family and stayed with us a few days, but she had to get back to Cambridge U. to go to work on her thesis. We stayed in London several days seeing the sights, spent a whole day at the Chelsea garden show. Overheard:”Smashing!” “Frightfully good!”
Bob arranged to rent a car (Chrysler Avenger Station Wagon) and since he had driven during the War was at home with right-hand drive. We drove to Wych Cross,Sussex,where he had been stationed for quite a while, but all was changed. The only person we talked with was an old lady who had worked at the Inn during the war, but all we found out was that “Ee were here” meaning Winston Churchill. On to Sissinghurst and Canterbury. We talked with some of the workmen who were trying to restore the cathedral. Through the thousands of years the glass on the windows had sagged and was paper-thin at the top,and globby at the bottom. It all had to replaced. But strangely enough the origional templates for cutting the glass were still in the basement.
Heading west we made a long trip, stopping at gardens, Hillier’s famous Nursery and Exbury Garden. Drove on till we ended in Torquay at 10:45 The woman on the desk could hardly believe we had come all the way from Canterbury in one day! She had only been away from her village once.
Now that we were in Cornwall, we must try to find our Mr. Trelawney. We looked for his address that we had been given…it could not be found. It must have been overlooked when we packed! Well! We decided to carry on and visit Trewithen Garden in Truro which was nearby.
Arriving at the Entrance we met a quiet young lady,who asked where we were from. When we told her Vancouver she came to life and told us that she had worked at UBC in the propagating part of the Landscaping Nursery. She then left us for a minute. When she returned she told us Mrs. Alison Johntone,who owned the house and garden would be happy to take us for a short tour. She appeared,with wispy white hair blowing around her energetic face,looking to be in her eighties. She explained her electric chair was being recharged, so she would just get us started on the tour. Grabbinng a tall stave she started off at a good pace.
First she took us to a tall tree and asked Bob “Which rhodo is this?” He realized this was a question to test the visitor, because it was not a rhodo, though its leaves looked very like one. He told her so and named the specimen correctly. So she knew it was worth her time to give us a good tour, which she proceeded to do. When we worked our way back to the house she invited us to stay for tea.
While we waited in the scullary for the kettle to boil (no servants anymore) she told us that the house and garden had been donated to the National Trust, and she was pleased because the tile roof needed replacing and would cost thousands of pounds. She also told us of her husband and how he had come to write his famous book on Magnolias. He had been riding to hounds, got thrown off, and become a quadraplegic. He went into a deep depression. He even complained that he could not commit suicide. She told him that if the only thing he could still do was use his head, then he better write all his knowledge of Magnolias into a book. She had hired a secretary who took it all down in short-hand and transcribed it. Then he needed diagrams. The only artist she could find was a woman who worked for a local doctor on cadavers. “Dead people or dead plants – it’s all the same!”he told his wife. So the book was done.
While we were having our tea, a ruddy faced gentleman popped in.” I say, Alison old thing, could we use your bottom field for the gymkhana next week? “Of course” she answered,” calling him by his school boy nickname, “but I want you to meet a couple from Canada”. “Canader.eh”
And then he asked the question that only people who don’t know the vastness of a country like Canada can think to ask: :”Do you know my cousin in Victoria? He teaches at a university there”.
Oh, that last line made me laugh. Surprising how things happen and what a wonderful memory. Good that Bob had experience driving on the right. I’ve done it a couple of times and it requires my total concentration. Thanks for the story.
By the way, this story is by my mother for any of you reading this that don’t know her. I don’t know if I would ever have gotten on an airplane again if I’d looked out the window and seen an engine on fire. I’m encouraging her to write about growing up in Mount Pleasant in Vancouver during the depression.
The truth is stranger than fiction. I enjoyed this.