When I left school at 16, in 1962, someone asked me what I would do. “Become a tramp, sir,” I said, and for the next 12 years I wandered around Europe, North Africa and Asia, coming back now and again to earn some money as a garden labourer in London parks. I loved it, but eventually got tired of sleeping under hedges; so I came back and got myself a National Certificate in Horticulture. I think that helped me get my first permanent job, gardener at Corpus Christi College in Oxford. That was in 1979, and I’m still here.
It’s like paradise, surrounded by beautiful buildings and overlooking Christ Church meadow. I work virtually single-handed, don’t use weedkillers or fertilisers, and am given free rein by the college fellows. I’ve been able to create something much less formal than most other colleges, but sympathetic to the atmosphere.
In the front quad there are seven magnificent bamboos reaching up to 15ft or more, framing the windows of the library. In sunnier beds, there’s an old olive tree, euphorbias, salvias and tall grasses, climbing roses, scattered tender annuals and herbs. There’s also self-sown valerian to tempt the hummingbird hawk-moth.
The main garden is dominated by a copper beech growing up a bank against the old city wall. In summer, the students occasionally play croquet on a lawn where crocuses, cowslips and primroses self-seed among the clover and moss.
Then there’s my greenhouse, designed by Rick Mather Architects, who created the new college auditorium and the extension to the Ashmolean museum. It’s like a glass box, almost frameless, and I thought, “What a great display cabinet not just for plants but ceramics, paintings and flotsam and jetsam from my beach-combing expeditions.” It’s all overlooked by an elegant shop mannequin, Madame Lulu, rescued from a nightclub in the north, and armed with a bow and arrow to protect her dignity.
Some of the college hierarchy thought that with the greenhouse, and the wild look of the garden, I’d exceeded my remit, but it’s popular with students, conference guests and tourists.
I’m nearly 70, fit and healthy, so it’s too soon to retire; and what could I do? I could hardly take up gardening, even though a few of my colleagues would say that it’s about time I did.
My favourite spot
The greenhouse: being able to see out, but sheltered inside, potting up plants or looking at the objects that have washed up here.
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