I jump at any chance I get to visit gardens. It doesn’t matter whether it’s grand or simple, cultivated with a labour-intensive or a laissez-faire approach, there is nothing like a leisurely stroll round somebody else’s patch. Sometimes, it takes me many years to get round to seeing a garden on my list, but that doesn’t matter. Because I often find that such a garden seems to store up some extra riches and joys as a reward for having waited so long. Or maybe, like The Manor House at Hemingford Grey, they are like that all time - a magical place to visit.
