I got my knickers in a twist this January when the RHS sent me my allocation of seeds on the seed distribution scheme. In spite of the fact that I had provided a list of substitutes (should my main choices not be available) they sent me duplicate packets. In February I sowed 17 different varieties/species instead of the 20 that my membership theoretically offered me. Finally I complained, having thought long and hard about being 'difficult'. As a member living in France it is not easy for me to access the other RHS member benefits; the gardens here that are free to RHS members are almost as far away from me as Britain is. I was thinking about cancelling my membership.
However, I've been a member of the RHS since (about) 1986 and - dare I say it - I have a morbid fear of missing one issue of The Garden. It's a difficult habit to leave behind, especially since I have memories of the days when so many stars of the UK horticultural firmament used to write in the magazine every month. They shook me up, inspired me, made me think - and they took me travelling, too, to see amazing gardens that otherwise I would never have experienced. It was a vision of what might be possible. I'm talking the Christopher Lloyds, Beth Chattos and Joy Larkcoms of the world. (I can still visualise Joy's article about ducks eating pests in Chinese paddy fields.) I could not imagine (then or now) a gardening life that was not accompanied by their thought-provoking words.
Shortly after complaining that I had been badly treated as an RHS 'old-timer', I received a tiny package which contained not just the three missing substitute packets - but duplicates of the seed I had already been sent! My chilly heart warmed to my old friend. And then the other night, while enjoying a glass of wine (always stimulates profound thought, I find), I fell to considering once more why I, as an ex-pat gardener without much money, should continue to patronise an institution that offered me few material benefits.
Then it came to me, quite clearly. If I continued my membership the personal gain might be small but I was supporting an institution that contributes to the education of young professional gardeners coming along. In the good old days we used to have council nurseries and parks that would invest (financially and qualitatively) in the training of young professional gardeners, a group of the select few in our society who do what they do for love, rather than financial gain. Younger, less financially endowed gardeners no longer have thriving local parks departments in which they can train (I started my own career in the London Borough of Southwark's parks department). But RHS trainee programmes (not just at Wisley, but in the many RHS gardens that now exist throughout Britain) and the RHS grants for young gardeners have helped plug this terrible gap in a society in which anything not strictly for profit has suffered. As an old pro (less of the old, my dear!) it's clearly my duty to contribute my measly £40 plus a year to at least try to ensure that those coming after me are provided with the same educational opportunities that I experienced myself. I'll not be cancelling membership any time soon...
However, I've been a member of the RHS since (about) 1986 and - dare I say it - I have a morbid fear of missing one issue of The Garden. It's a difficult habit to leave behind, especially since I have memories of the days when so many stars of the UK horticultural firmament used to write in the magazine every month. They shook me up, inspired me, made me think - and they took me travelling, too, to see amazing gardens that otherwise I would never have experienced. It was a vision of what might be possible. I'm talking the Christopher Lloyds, Beth Chattos and Joy Larkcoms of the world. (I can still visualise Joy's article about ducks eating pests in Chinese paddy fields.) I could not imagine (then or now) a gardening life that was not accompanied by their thought-provoking words.
Shortly after complaining that I had been badly treated as an RHS 'old-timer', I received a tiny package which contained not just the three missing substitute packets - but duplicates of the seed I had already been sent! My chilly heart warmed to my old friend. And then the other night, while enjoying a glass of wine (always stimulates profound thought, I find), I fell to considering once more why I, as an ex-pat gardener without much money, should continue to patronise an institution that offered me few material benefits.
Then it came to me, quite clearly. If I continued my membership the personal gain might be small but I was supporting an institution that contributes to the education of young professional gardeners coming along. In the good old days we used to have council nurseries and parks that would invest (financially and qualitatively) in the training of young professional gardeners, a group of the select few in our society who do what they do for love, rather than financial gain. Younger, less financially endowed gardeners no longer have thriving local parks departments in which they can train (I started my own career in the London Borough of Southwark's parks department). But RHS trainee programmes (not just at Wisley, but in the many RHS gardens that now exist throughout Britain) and the RHS grants for young gardeners have helped plug this terrible gap in a society in which anything not strictly for profit has suffered. As an old pro (less of the old, my dear!) it's clearly my duty to contribute my measly £40 plus a year to at least try to ensure that those coming after me are provided with the same educational opportunities that I experienced myself. I'll not be cancelling membership any time soon...