A disappointing Hampton Court show prompts me to seek rose Mecca (and Arts & Crafts heaven)

Before I headed to the Cotswolds, I started my holiday at the Hampton Court Garden Festival. It was, to be honest, deeply inferior to past years. But it was so exciting to actual be at an annual milestone after 16 months of COVID cancellations ... and to be out in a crowd (limited to the fully vaccinated) ... that I could forgive its shortcomings.

Those included a decline in show gardens, sponsors and vendors. For the first time there were open plots where organisers obviously hadn't been able to sell space. The gardens themselves were bland in their near-uniformity. Everyone varied on the same themes: save the planet, and stay calm during a pandemic. The result was a lot of of shady spots for relaxation, outdoor kitchens, and naturalistic planting verging on the unkempt.

Only two gardens even inspired me to take out my camera. Tom Stewart-Smiths meadow planting gives a vision of the future of the UK that looks surprisingly like a field in central Missouri on a good day. I loved it, but even with climate change I'm sceptical about many of these heat-lovers would survive on our shores. The second I photographed for pure shock value. 

Its visual hook was an airplane crashed into a wheat field (representing genetically-modified monocultures) with luggage spilling from its severed tail. In case you missed the point, the "airline" branding was Homo Sapiens. Through the plane's shattered

cockpit you could see a small collection of plants that had survived multiple extinction events.  At the time I had a viscerally negative reaction, believing the wrecked plane was in spectacularly bad taste, but a week later it's the main thing I remember about this year's event. If a show garden is meant to get a message across, there’s probably never been better.

Amongst the vendors not attending was flower show stalwart David Austin Roses. Instead of their usual booth manned with staff ready to offer copious advice and sell you the year's latest varieties, they planted a curved bed of roses around some benches, put up labels with their flower show offer, and stayed home. Ironically, this decision on their part triggered the first day of holiday sightseeing on mine.

I had always wanted to get to their headquarters just north of Birmingham. It was rose season. From my Cotswolds starting point I was already halfway there. What the hell.

David Austin started selling his specially-bred roses in the 1960s and by his death in 2018 had become the leading light of the modern Rose world. His special genius was for combining the colours, shapes, and sense of old-fashioned roses with the repeat flowering of new ones. Today, I doubt there is a major garden anywhere in the world that doesn’t feature his creations. If gardening were a religion ... and for many, it certainly is ... then this might be its Mecca.


The gardens here are essentially the company showroom, demonstrating what more than five decades of patented roses look like in their full maturity. Breathtaking is a word that's lost its impact from overuse, but it's appropriate here. The beauty of this place in the middle of rose season is so overwhelming I was, briefly, physically overcome and needed to sit down to recover.

You start off on a patio full of enormous pots showing off the latest introductions. Beyond is the vast Long Garden, a connecting network of pergolas stretching more than 100 metres with three wide aisles, all packed with different roses. It's the biggest assemblage of roses I've ever seen in one garden. And I've seen a lot of gardens. Bushes, ramblers and climbers all jostle for your attention as they tumble together in a riot of colour. If the festive assault on your eyes isn't enough to overwhelm you, the scent will finish you off. It's incredible.

There are three walled gardens off this long walk, each walled to concentrate the aromas further. The Victorian Garden is circular, inviting you to explore different varieties in a contemplative spiral. The Lion Garden, named for a large sculpture at one end, is the most varied of the planting schemes with a mix of species alongside the headliners. The Renaissance Garden is the one I would most likely transplant to my own home, should I win lottery. A long, still pool runs from the main entrance to an Italian-style loggia. On either side of the water are aisles framed with undulating box hedges from which roses spill. A pergola runs down one side. Combined with the framing walls and the back of the loggia, it’s an exceptional stage for climbers. Here, as in the Long Garden, roses bloom at every level your eye rests upon, overwhelming both eyes and nose.

There are plenty of benches throughout for lingering appreciation. If you need more significant sustenance there is a lovely little café surrounded by more roses and staffed by locals who radiate pride in their garden. They serve simple country fair done well. Soup, sandwiches and cakes, all obviously handmade rather than from an industrial kitchen.

The purpose of these gardens is, of course, to sell roses, and this is one of the world's better examples of exiting through the gift shop. Austin’s greatest hits are organised by type in an enormous outdoor garden centre. I have bought many of these roses from garden centres and have been delighted, but the quality here is even better. I doubt that the “Boscobel” I purchased will ever look as good as it did in its pot at its birthplace. These gardens aren’t just special because of the roses, but because of the care and knowledge of the experts who tend them. Every spent bloom is dead-headed, soil beneath is turned gently, branches are pruned in the optimum spots and I’m sure every bit of feeding is done to its proper schedule. I must do better.

If you are making a long drive to get to David Austin’s, you may want to expand your day with a visit to a fascinating National Trust property that is only 20 minutes down the road on the outskirts of Wolverhampton. Wightwick Manor is probably the most beautiful of the small handful of Arts and Crafts houses on the heritage circuit. 

That it has few peers is probably down to a visceral hatred of Victorian art and architecture that ran through much of the 20th century. I admit many Victorian interiors can be gloomy and overwhelming but Arts and Crafts, embraced by industrialists who wanted to be seen as edgy, intellectual non-traditionalists, is different. The combination of William Morris, his colleagues in the decorative arts and the pre-Raphaelite painters brings a lightness of touch, a confidence with colour and a devotion to romance and comfort. My instinctive reaction in an Arts and Crafts house is to snuggle on a sofa with a great book. (To match the environment, probably something by Oscar Wilde.) Here, I could do so for a very long time.

Though Wightwick was built with all of the “mod cons” available in 1887 (electricity, central heating, proper bathrooms), it is meant to feel like a fairy tale bower. William Morris’s lush floral wallpaper surrounds you, and there are several original drawings from his tapestries.

His fabrics beckon you onto overstuffed chairs and sofas. Stained glass windows and de Morgan tiles around fireplaces send shards of jewel-toned light across rooms. One of the best collections of Pre-Raphaelite paintings in the country brings those fairytales to life on the walls. One of the unique elements of Wightwick is its large collection of female Pre-Raphaelite artists, and these days they really celebrate that part of the collection. On my visit the gallery in one of the outbuildings was dedicated to the little-known wife of William Morgan, Evelyn, who was an accomplished artist whose work inspired her husband’s pottery.

Outside, the house is all romantic gables, half timber and and mellow brickwork. Master craftsmen were as much at work here as inside, evident in carved animals and decorative bits that adorn the timbers. 

There are some pretty rose gardens here. Though they pale in comparison to David Austin’s.

The staff inside the house were both chattier, and more knowledgeable, than your usual National Trust volunteers. Maybe it’s the extra time they’ve had in lockdown, or maybe just a deep pride in this region that isn’t really on the tourist track. If you are anywhere near here, especially in rose season, it is worth a detour. Both these sites are jewels that deserve to be better known.