What does your garden say about your politics?
Britain may be in bloom, but what do our gardens reveal about our voting intentions? Debora Robertson looks for clues
It’s that time of year again. Across the country, the horticulturally inclined are putting on their straw hats, tying their tweed ties, scrubbing up their nails. The Chelsea Flower Show, the beginning of the English summer season, opens next week.
While Chelsea might represent gardening at its grandest, as a nation our passion for plants crosses all boundaries of age, class and culture. So BBC Two’s announcement last week that they are filming a Britain in Bloom documentary, to air next year, has been greeted with glee in potting sheds up and down the land.
Cameras will follow the daily drama in various communities as they prepare for the arrival of the judges. Potentially, this has all of the bringthe-nation-together charm of Bake Off,Offffff, plus secateurs.
Britain in Bloom was launcheded in 1964, after Roy Hay, a gardening g journalist, visited France and wasas inspired to create our own festivalval by the floral displays he saw as part t of their Fleurissement de France events. vents.
But, it hasn’t been all fun andd fuchsias since. The competition n that launched a million hanging basketskets has also exposed our darker side. e. Sabotage is not unknown and notot everyone is a fan. Sir Roy Strong blamed Britain in Bloom for spreading “flowers like a disease”.
But while many things might divide us as a nation, most of us are quite potty about plants. And how we garden says a lot about us. In fact, a peek over the fence will even give you an idea of how your neighbours might vote in the upcoming election …
A whiff of the Shires
We see you, with all that flawless topiary. You love its confident, bold shapes, which require expertise and therefore cash to maintain.
We know you like those espaliered fruit trees because they give a pleasingly strong and stable framework to the walled garden.
Your old roses, muted perennials and speciesp plantsp also tell us that you know what yo you like and like what you know. But you you’re not a stick-in-themud: those boxingbo hares/pig/goat sculptures yo you bought on a shooting trip to Yorksh Yorkshire show a bit of pizazz.
You preten pretend you like breakfast on the terrace, b but really you prefer the peace of the k kitchen, a proper napkin and zero threatthre of wasps.
Latest buy: A An auricula theatre. So charming. Most likely to have: A pet cemetery; a dovecot; a life-size bronze racehorse (our Derby winner, such a character character); a floating duck island. Proudest g gardening achievement:
Opening the garden for the National Garden Scheme every year. People come from miles for the coffee and walnut cake. Absolutely an anti: Gnomes. Oh. You have one? How charming. Most likely to vote: Theresa
Conspicuously consuming (organic veg)
You spend so much time at the allotment, your front garden is a bit of a mess but it’s great for the ecosystem and greenfly are people, too.
Though you love your 28 varieties of kale and heirloom beetroot, if you fully costed it out it you know it would be cheaper to go to the corner shop.
After that trip to Cuba, you painted the back yard shriek pink and planted a palm, but secretly you think it looks dreary in that flat, north London light. Proudest gardening achievement:
That time you guerrilla-planted 85 varieties of lettuce on a traffic island.
Most likely to have: A complex range of composting and fertilising options, including hot and cold bins (not afraid to wee on them if necessary) and wormeries. Some of your closest friends are nematodes.
Latest buy: Not massively into buying things. But you’re very proud of the
planters you made from leftover wooden pallets. Hardly any splinters. Absolutely anti: Would rather talk about what you’re for, not against. Most likely to vote: Labour
Blowing in the Wind
You love wafting, hazy drifts of colour which blend almost amorphously into one another. To paraphrase Dolly Parton, whoever knew it would take so much work to look so, er, natural?
Inspired by a trip to the High Line in New York, you became obsessed with its Dutch designer, Piet Oudolf – you believe we can learn much from our European gardening colleagues.
You would love some grand spirals of yew among the grasses and wildflowers, but size is limited by what Creating a powerful coalition between the “new perennials” prairie and the sedum roof of your new studio shed. You said you’d never sacrifice the lawn, but sometimes you have to make compromises for the greater good.
Most likely to have: Dried seed heads instead of Christmas decorations.
Latest buy: A little hydroponic kit, for an experiment. Personal use...
Absolutely anti: Diesel-powered leaf blowers, #fakegrass Most likely to vote: Lib Dem
Making Britain Bright Again
You were perturbed to discover Britain in Bloom was inspired by a French idea, but you draw comfort from knowing we’ve made it our own – no one can hold a candle to us Brits when it comes to putting on a good show. Keep calm and flower on...
You love a conifer. You know where you are with a spruce. Plus with juniper you have the added bonus of that comforting whiff of gin.
You garden in a shirt and tie, and/or a proper apron, because standards are very important to you. Proudest gardening achievement:
Creating a union flag from 2,000 (imported) begonias and lobelia.
Most likely to have: A diesel-powered leaf blower; fake grass.
Latest buy: An 8m flag pole. Absolutely ridiculous it needs planning permission. Ditto concreting over the front garden for the Merc.
Absolutely anti: Non-native species. You want the gardening community to make a success of stronger British plants for British people.
Most likely to vote: Ukip