Living in the between-times: rules and spontaneity

Like many people in these strange times, I’ve been finding out new things about myself. This blog post is about one of them.

The feeling of uncertainty in our experience of the COVID-19 thing in the UK doesn’t go away. The weekly shift in rules doesn’t help, with the odd sensation that some things are tightening up – such as the hospitality industry closing at 22.00 – just as others loosen.

Today we discovered a new loosening (it feels like we are keeping going mostly by finding these). It relates to the National Trust: I blogged back in March about the closure of my favourite NT garden, Greys Court, and how sad I was that this place of refreshment and encouragement, with its wonderful walled garden, had to close completely. I also blogged about my return to the National Trust properties as they slowly reopened, although they were looking rather the worse for wear after many months without the essential volunteer gardeners. Today my husband noticed that there was a further loosening suggested on the Greys Court webpage:

To avoid disappointment please book your visit in advance. Booking is essential at weekends and bank holidays. If you do not book we cannot guarantee admission.

This means that, although at the roadside entrance the banner still says there is no admission without booking, once you get in it’s up to the gate staff to decide whether or not there’s space. And today, a Friday, there was.

The process of reopening has been very gradual. First the toilets; then a very limited tea-room service; now the shop. But not the house. There are still no volunteers, and we were told that the changing regulations on furlough mean that there’s still no sign of them coming back. Will it prove to have been worth paying a member of staff to open the shop if takings are very low? Is it possible to have a volunteer do it, without threatening the jobs of the paid staff? These are the sorts of question with which an organisation like the Trust has to deal.

As for the vegetable garden – our favourite place – it remains pretty depressing, as the very small paid staff are only able to keep the grass under control and deal with the basics. Our favourite seat produced a very different view of September than in other years. No vegetables; while the beds definitely have things in them, these are either overgrown herbs or weeds, although the fig against the wall is looking very happy. There are apples falling and rotting. Empty greenhouses. Just a few enthusiastic plants taking a chance while there’s nobody to decide that they don’t fit in with the gardeners’ plans. I had to admire them for this.

The herbaceous border, only planted after last year’s restoration of the wall between it and the White Garden, was certainly full, but chaotic:

I don’t go to gardens for chaos: there’s enough of that already. I go to them for several things: beauty; the reassurance of seasonal change; a sense of nature held in check by human intervention. I’m not getting that in my usual NT haunts so, in the absence of the right sort of garden action in these, we’ve discovered other places where they have more paid gardeners. These have been a revelation in an otherwise overgrown and neglected world. We already knew about Waterperry Gardens, and I’ve had annual membership there for a few years now. Great herbaceous borders. But we have found new gardens to add to our collection! Our favourite may be Buscot Park, which is National Trust – so we get in free – but is lived in by the family and has its own gardeners: the results are superb, perfect, life-enhancing.

Buscot includes the Swinging Garden – an adult experience, not in that sense of ‘swinging’, but because there are swinging seats suspended on chains, from which you can watch the sculpture of two sycamore seeds which turn with the wind. And there’s one of the best walled gardens I’ve ever seen; a four-seasons-themed one, with a fountain at the centre. Everything is in perfect condition, with a fun mixture of apples, pears, runner beans and squashes growing among the flowers. Plus you can buy bags of fruit at the main desk. We only found this garden late in the season, and it closes next week until April, so we’ve been every week (sorry, Greys Court, my cast-aside former love).

Then there’s Rousham House, with walled gardens plural, and a parkland area to explore as well. Free windfall apples by the ticket machine! Amazing herbaceous borders, and in superb condition. Plus hens.

There are some serious points I take home from my experience here. One is that the pandemic means I’ve been forced to find new places, new delights, for which I am very grateful; and I’m well aware that without access to a car I couldn’t do any of this. And there’s a further serious point for me here, in terms of what I am feeling about our current world. I’ve realised something about myself. Before the world went mad, I thought I was someone who thrives on structure. I need to know what’s happening, and what’s for supper. But since all this began I’ve craved the spontaneity which COVID-19 regulations have denied us. I’ve written about this elsewhere in terms of shopping (which is quite funny when I normally have very little interest in it), and the shift from drifting into a shop to see what they’ve got, to booking slots in advance online. Yes, in similar vein, it was good to be able to go online and book a slot to visit a favourite NT property. But it’s far better to be able to say, ‘The sun’s shining, let’s change our plans and go out somewhere and maybe stop off for lunch or maybe not!’