The sign of success
This week ended on a busy note. I was asked to return to the garden centre where I worked in my youth to do some staff training and to give evening talks. Both in Surrey, UK, one day was spent at Nags Hall, near Godstone and the other at their newer centre at Betchworth, near Dorking. It was great to be back although I still have a regular connection with them and write their weekly blog.
Both centres are well worth a visit and Betchworth in particular has a great, award-winning houseplant section. It was nice to be surrounded by lots of spring flowers and it is always so cheerful, and especially in this wet and miserable spring to see and sniff all the primroses and polyanthus.
I was really captivated by ‘Sirocco’ with frilly, white-rimmed flowers but there are not many ugly primulas. I know they won’t appreciate the current wet conditions outside but I just admired them all.
The main reason for travelling was to train staff during the day and then give two evening talks, about annuals and growing from seed, and both evening talks were well attended, perhaps because of the temptation of a ‘goody bag’ and the optional meal in the restaurant! But it all seemed to be received well.
Lots can go wrong when you give a talk. My biggest fear, after I can tell that the technical gremlins are eliminated, is when looking across the audience, observing closing eyes and nodding heads or, even worse, the gentle rumbles of a snore! The risk is even greater when the talk is immediately preceded by a hot meal and glasses of wine as it was on these evenings! As the lights dim and people sit in a chair for an hour, I am aware that I have to work hard. I take nothing for granted. A joke now and then, alternating the pace and something a little controversial helps because a few laughs will help keep the potential snorers awake. Every audience is different and you have to read them while keeping track of what you are saying.
It is difficult to know how well the talk is received. If there are no questions at the end, is it because I covered things clearly or because no one cares and they just want to get away? I know that the reason I never asked questions in my school chemistry lessons is because I didn’t understand enough to be able to ask anything! And if the only question after a talk on bulbs is about how to get rid of bindweed, I feel somewhat deflated. Especially as I will not be able to give an answer that will be well-received!
But after the talk on Friday I was approached by a gentleman who was obviously dragged along by his partner and he said he was not sure if he was going to enjoy the talk but that ‘it was much better than I expected‘.
I will take that as a good result!
The Biking Gardener 
On technical issues, a Zoom talk I tuned into during the week had to be abandoned as the speaker’s connection/voice failed on so many occasions.
I have resisted Zoom talks for that very reason. I would not trust our broadband or even our electricity reply! Even taking talks on a ‘stick’ worked me and I can’t relax till it is loaded and I see it works! Better than the old days and slides popping out of carousels though!
Delivering a Zoom talk is a very impersonal experience as you can’t see the audience, just your own screen and your own face in small inset screen. No reaction as you speak; no sense of how the audience is reacting etc.
Yes that impersonal factor worries me. It looks like a dry day here and I hope your garden dries out a bit.
A light frost overnight. I think it will take a dry fortnight to dry the ground.
I had a little laugh when you said you were told your talk was much better than expected! It reminded me of one of the first times my husband spoke to me before we started going out together. He said I was looking very smart, for a change! Of course, he denies it.
The primulas in that garden centre are looking lovely! We daren’t put anything outside because of the water-logged and flooded ground. When will it stop raining!?
Yes it’s like when people say ‘I scrub up well’ when i am in a suit which basically means I normally look like a sack of spuds. Yes the primulas were lovely but those flowers would just dissolve outside and I am still too wet here to contemplate any gardening. My ‘Irish’ primroses like ‘Avondale’ are coping well though. It must dry out soon – please!