Antidotes to our age of instant gratification are all around us

Six months after the illegal felling of the Sycamore Gap tree, discussion continues about how to restore the site. The destruction of the iconic tree, planted by the 19thcentury lawyer and antiquarian John Clayton, was felt as a bereavement across the world, and devastated a natural and human ecosystem. The habitat of birds and insects; Clayton’s legacy; the memories of generations of local people and, more recently, of tourists who snapped selfies in front of its gracious and enduring backdrop – were all lost.

A conversation immediately began about how to repair the damage. But the days when amateur archaeologists could plant a tree where they chose are long gone. For the various responsible parties, including the National Trust, Northumberland National Parks Authority and Historic England, navigating the necessary blend of consolation, ecology and archaeology to fulfil the need for a “legacy” has been a delicate matter.

Suggestions have included a stone circle, a metal replica tree, art installations made from its trunk and a “place for reflection” (as though all natural landscapes – and many human-made ones – didn’t already provide that).

Yet the legacy could be simpler than any of these rather fanciful ideas. Salvaged twigs and seeds have been cultivated at a secret conservation centre. Some 45 seedlings and five grafted trees have flourished, and if the stump doesn’t re-sprout, a seedling could take its place.

The temptation to make a more emphatic statement, in order to replicate the impact of the lost tree, must be strong. By contrast, the quiet message of a seedling is: “Wait for a century or so, and see.” Yet this is the fundamental story of all tree planting. Around the time that Hadrian’s wall was built, the Romans brought to Britain a tradition of planting for future generations. Our own century’s taste for instant gratification was foreshadowed by the great landscape gardeners of the 18th century, who didn’t scruple to re-site full-grown trees – though a contemporary writer noted that such trees “grow so slowly as to remind one of stricken deer”.

Embedded in the discussion about the future of the Sycamore Gap site is a deeper question about our ideas of landscape. The vandalised tree was mourned as though it were a human acquaintance for whom death was obliteration. Yet trees are that fashionable thing: a renewable resource (albeit with an unfashionably long time-lag).

A seedling planted in the gap would mature to delight our great-grandchildren a century hence. Our ancestors embraced the long view, and so should we. Instead of the factitious consolations of a stone circle, an art installation or replica tree: a slender seedling could represent a sturdy statement of continuity with the past, and faith in the future.

The culinary tastes of Hollywood celebrities are notoriously unrobust – running to little more than egg-white omelette and arugula salad.

But last night at the Oscars, the Cornish-born chef Elliott Grover offered a menu of sturdy British classics, including miniature servings of fish and chips, and beef with Yorkshire pudding.

Grover’s British cuisine was a triumph last year, as celebrities encountered the novel concept of food that actually tasted of something.

So whither, gastronomically speaking, for next year’s Academy Awards? Tiny mouthfuls of black pudding, and doll-sized portions of pie and mash, perhaps?