GREENGAGE SUMMER

 

It’s not that I am a particular fan of Rumer Godden, but I do like greengages. This summer has been hot and dry. Despite the paucity of rain the apples  and plums are both early  and seem to be in prodigious quantity. Fortunately I had a small granddaughter to help one weekend, here she is crab apple picking.  Of course I should have been on the other side of the ladder but her father was close by just taking a quick picture !

That weekend Christopher, Elowen and I did Avebury, a bit disappointed that the Manor was closed after severe flooding earlier this year.  I got some more relief from the oppressive presence of so much that needs or will need picking by retreating to Cross-in-Hand for Violet’s 7^th, a great gathering of the families. This was great fun and a sterling indeed heroic performance by our hosts. We also managed to squeeze in a visit to Bateman’s which I haven't been to for decades.

But the presence of stuff to be picked from the garden couldn’t be entirely ignored. On the last evening before my departure for Sweden, I decided to go and see how my poor old greengage tree was doing. I say ‘poor old’ since while I was away in Singapore there must have been a great wind in Wiltshire which blew over  one plum  tree and the greengage tree, the latter so badly that the main root is half out of the ground. Normally I might get a couple  of dozen greengages from  it but only when they drop to the ground as the tree is so big and the fruit well out of reach. So I really wasn’t expecting to see literally hundreds of them lying on the ground with more to come. I have been so busy rescuing the rest of the garden from neglect hat I just hadn’t noticed that part of it.  Sadly, it was late evening the night before a crack-of dawn (in fact at 0300 pre-dawn) departure for Sweden but I just couldn’t leave them there to rot and so collected a couple  of trug-fulls instead of doing the final packing. Not  ideal. Into the freezer they went to be sorted on my return. But I just don’t understand how so  little rain produces so much fruit ! An article in the Guardian said the earlier ripening was because of everything racing through its stages before its winter 'senescence' because of the drought. But that doesn't explain the incredible volume of fruit. Nathan thought it was because this had been a very good year for pollinators. 

            Despite that unexpected last minute distraction, the trip out was completely hassle free, unlike the experience of two of my colleagues with whom I was going to meet up in Copenhagen airport. Their Air Norwegian flight was cancelled and they only arrived 9 hours later, one without his suitcase which he hopes to collect on the way back. So I got the train to Helsingborg and go picked up several hours ahead of schedule from the station there and taken to Viken. This charming little seaside village of old ‘captain’s houses’ – many thatched- around a small marina of enviable yachts – was the same venue as last year’s talks.

Later summer season, sunny weather with a brisk breeze to keep all the Swedish flags and pennants flapping. So I made  myself at home and roamed around until the others arrived and there was the expected welcome dinner. One of our hosts is a really big wheel in the shipping world, and a naval history fanatic. He has one museum stuffed with naval memorabilia and lives in another with a heroic wife whose only revolt is to set aside an ‘Abba’ commemoration room, which one of our number stayed in, a bit uneasily I think.  I stayed in a converted hen-house and made myself at home in the garden for reading diary writing etc.

           

The talks were great – mainly about what to do about Russia of course- I was a bit surprised by the level of scepticism there was about Russian naval prowess, but the Swedes in particular, having abandoned their  centuries old tradition of neutrality are really energised about the threat. The most memorable events, however were the three dinners.. Stupendous food, loads of Aquavit and lots of the drinking songs that all Scandinavian navies seem to like. One went finally to bed in the (ex) henhouse in the back garden usually a touch worse for wear. Weirdly I had the best three nights’ sleep I have had for ages. There’s a moral there somewhere. 

            The last stage of the gathering was for five of us to drive back to Copenhagen airport via two spectacular castles and three maritime museums interspersed with good meals all the way.

The first was Sofiero, in Sweden where the  gardeners amongst us were very impressed by the banks of flowers on display this late in the season. It reinforced my determination once back home and with no book to write finally to get to grips with the garden which has suffered years of partial neglect. Although I say it myself things have already improved a lot. 

Egeskov in Denmark was quite different, ridiculously spectacular though with lots of duckweed in the pond ! Basically mid 17th Century but obviously tarted up a lot in the 19th Century. Unusually we were allowed to clamber around in the roof space. Renovators found an undateable doll concealed up there. Ancient retainers apparently reported a half forgotten legend that were it to be removed disaster would follow. 'Stuff and nonsense' said the 'Duke I'm going to send the doll away to find out how old it is.' There followed a major water leakage which exposed the 2000 oak piles the castle was built on. They immediately started to crumble away. The castle tottered. The doll was hastily brought back and the rains came saving the day. They still don't know how old the doll is. 

After this extravagance of buildings, we ended up in a guest house in  the bleak apparently deserted uncompromisingly modern little maritime settlement near the dockyard that was the basis of our new host’s fortune. It was a far cry from the romantically decayed Swedish castle in a wood last year. But you can’t have everything. I was reminded of those horror films when people arrive in a mysterious town in the middle of nowhere, with no-one about, that has been taken over by aliens ! We couldn't help but wonder if it was like this bleak in late Summer, what on earth would it be like to live in the place in February. The saving grace though was a small hotel with a very good restaurant.

            Appropriately the area is infamous for naval battles and shipwrecks The following day there were two stupendous museums to be guided round, one largely devoted to the Battle of Jutland in May 1916 in which I have always been interested. What was special about it was  that it was profusely illustrated by objects recently brought up from the battle site sea-bed splendidly contexualised by first class research and with a strong focus on the stories of the people involved. Quite enthralling. I got all inspired by this and decided that my next lot of students in Singapore don’t realise it yet but they are going to get an extra lecture on the battle. After yet more fish and chips, to the other museum. This dealt with virtually everything else from a gruesome exhibition on whaling, to the recovery of V2 rockets that fell into the sea on their way to England. it centred on diving on wreck sites. There's an interesting issue here. Should the artefacts be displayed as found, barnacles and all, or cleaned up so the public can really understand what they are looking at. Here's us and the entire museum staff. Real enthusiasts and restorers full of secrets to reveal about their trade.  It was fascinating but a bit overwhelming. After a while we couldn’t take anymore. Overload. After a matey supper with them in the museum,  an evening wander around the Jutland memorial in the wind-swept sand dunes restored the capacity to reflect.

            And then the following morning to the last museum 30 minutes away – the so-called ‘Strandings Museum’ which was almost exclusively focussed on the wrecks of HM Ships St George and Defence which foundered here in a bad storm on Christmas Eve 1811, with only 17 survivors from a combined crew of 1300. It was dramatically displayed and the view of the rudder post was quite amazing. It’s so tall they had to build a 3 storied tower to accommodate it. Lunch with the museums enthusiastic curators and that was that, a three hour drive to Copenhagen airport where we bomb-burst and went our separate ways after a very convivial few days. Back to grim reality and all those greengages.