Hampton Court

There was a cooler day during June and we decided to use it to visit Hampton Court Palace, combined with a drive-through visit to the pharmacy, using the convenient taxi rank on the other side of the High Street for the purpose. Our last visit to the Palace having been noticed towards the end of April, at reference 1.

The Marquis of Granby at the Isles of Scilly roundabout was still seriously fenced off and boarded up. Clearly my notion of making it into a drive-through McDonald's has not yet penetrated very far into the planning-heritage arena.

But it was still warm enough that we did not want to walk across the bridge from the railway station, so, for the first time for some time, we decided to park in the Palace itself, which meant that BH spent a happy half hour reminding herself how the parking machines there worked. I am pleased to say that she got there, without incident, either internal or external.

From there, we found our way into the rose garden, where we have just about got used to the new format, and found ourself a bench for our first sit, just across the hedge, as it happened, from where we had parked our car. Much to admire and enjoy, including some fine trees outside, with our curiosity being aroused by the large yellow flowers in the middle of the snap above.

The centre of which was offered to Google Images with the clue 'in the rose garden at Hampton Court Palace' with the result above. Was he just leveraging my clue or did he really know about garden fashions at the Palace?

Presumably not the V. thapsus, recently noticed and Google Images agrees with me. I let the matter drop for now: no reason to doubt his identification.

The deep blue of these small flowers caught our eyes, amid all the double pinks.

While this afternoon, the hairy margins of its leaves was striking under zoom. Yet another five petalled flower.

While I do not doubt Google Images' identification to 'Ceratostigma willmottianum, commonly known as Chinese Plumbago or Hardy Plumbago', it would have been more confidence building had he mentioned the hairy leaves before I added that to the clue. See reference 2.

Not knowing the word 'plumbago', I asked Gemini about that, and he tells me that the word has two meanings. Firstly, an old word for graphite which miners up north had confused with lead ore. Secondly, derived from the Romans of old who might have thought the plant could be used to treat lead poisoning or that the flowers had the colour of some lead ores. All seems a bit of a muddle to me. Perhaps I will dig deeper later.

Lots of fine blooms on the way to the café, of which I offer just one, the five petalled blue flower snapped above. Google Images (GI hereafter) says 'The magenta flower in the center of the image is a hardy Hardy Geranium (Cranesbill), matching cultivars like Geranium psilostemon or its popular hybrid Geranium 'Ann Folkard'' - but once again he only mentions the five lobed, serrated leaves when I do. Maybe he has enough to go on without bothering about the leaves.

Them some irritating heritage intrusions. And we learned only yesterday that we have the 'Beano' festival, complete with Dennis the Menace, to come. The things that our once staid and decent palaces have to do these days to pull in the punters - but I do wonder whether driving down-market might not finish them off, rather as it has, I believe, killed off the Anglican Church. Their core market does not like tambourines and Powerpoints in the House of our Lord. But then again, maybe their core market is dying off, an endangered species.

In the meantime, perhaps we had better stick to Wisley - unless, that is, they are at the same game.

Sausage roll at the Tilt Yard café, recently rebranded to Compass from Company of Cooks, adequate rather than good, let down by cheap ingredients. Sausage very feeble compared with the Italian sausage we had had the day before. Focus a bit feeble too.

Puzzled by the way some of the wooden boards making up the table tops had warped. Maybe the hot, dry weather and the constraint of the steel frame underneath was too much for them? Maybe something was needed between the boards and the steel frame which had a bit more give?

Bearing in mind that the boards of our patio table, back in Epsom, also fixed to a steel frame underneath, albeit in a slightly different way, do not have this problem.

Onto the Royal Vegetable Patch, where I purloined three peas, two for me and one for her. The first fresh peas that I had eaten for a long time. To think we used to make salads based on them when I was small. Then when I was old enough to grow peas, I never solved the pea worm problem. Rather off-putting they were too.

Oddly, the gooseberry bushes, albeit rather small, did not have any berries at all. Where had they all gone?

Interesting wander through the various plants and vegetables, a lot of which I recognised from my allotment gardening days.

But I was defeated by these large plants, topped by modest yellow flowers. GI says: 'The main plant featured in the center of the image is Elecampane (Inula helenium)'. A heritage plant from the Tudors, who valued the roots. I had forgotten about the heritage angle to this patch.

Broad beans not looking too clever: maybe they were using heritage, unimproved varieties. Maybe their improved flavour made them worth the bother?

Followed by a gentle stroll through the wilderness, heading for our picnic alcove in the north wall for our picnic. Picking up this fine example of fives on a first growth bramble stem, previously noticed on several occasions.

Noting also that I really like the current fashion for rough grass with mown edges. Bringing in a bit of wild, while keeping a bit of control with the lawnmower. One still has a garden rather than a field. But, oddly, no grasshoppers to be seen or heard.

A lot of the bird's foot trefoil in the grass heading north, as noticed towards the end of reference 3. This time I got to take in the creeping stems. Whereupon identification was confirmed - but it taken the power of GI to run them down to said reference 3.

Arrived at our alcove to find it taken by various impedimenta to do with an expiring festival, so we were reduced to sitting on the wall at the head of the canal, which actually worked out rather well.

Picnic, king cups, water lilies. Water boatmen, damsel flies and dragon flies. Young coots. One large carp. All very peaceful.

We used to like what used to be called the Apprentices' Garden, behind the railings in the snap above. I thought that I would stroll along the fence to see if one could still get in - although it seemed a bit unlikely that that was what was intended. BH thought that she would go and sit on the grass and await developments.

Starting off with some abandoned outdoor art, tucked in a corner by what was the entrance to the garden.

Then the gate itself, firmly padlocked. The same brand of padlock as is used by Epsom & Ewell Council on the gate to the Stamford Green allotments. Some signs of care inside, so perhaps management have not abandoned hope of reopening one day.

A bit nearer the noticed but unscored Wellingtonia, not scored because at the time, I was stricter about the rule about no scoring without touching than I am now. But it seemed unsporting to score it on this occasion, just the same. The same sort of pointy top, a bit like one of those spiked helmets the Germans used to like, as it happens, as the rather younger and smaller specimen near us at Epsom.

Between the path by the railings and the reeds of this part of the canal. Trees of the avenue at the top - with the mistletoe which is so striking in the winter no longer visible.

Not, I think, a dandelion, but I forebear, at least for the moment, finding out what it is. A much more open ball, with more structure visible.

I find some grasshoppers - and also come across some damselflies with curious black wings, with ends rather like the tail fin of a small aeroplane, a Spitfire or something like that. Discussion with Gemini is a bit inconclusive on this occasion: he goes for male Banded Demoiselle (Calopteryx splendens) or a Beautiful Demoiselle (Calopteryx virgo). I don't have a snap, but I am not convinced, so that one is in the pending tray for now.

After a while, I get to the corner of the canal and make a left. A bit later still I get to a fence, with a gate leading back into the body of the gardens. I see a miniature tractor heading my way, complete with a couple of gardeners. No doubt they will be able to unlock the gate and let me out. But no, they are not menials at all, rather a couple of young people dressed like menials but actually hired by the festival organisers, armed with clipboards and so forth. Nothing like keys or a step ladder to get me over the fence. They were quite amused. 

A few years ago, I might have had a go at getting over or round the fence, but discretion was the better part of valour and I headed back. 

They had forgotten to put a padlock on this gate. BH duly amused too from her side of the canal and after rejoining her we headed off to the insides, to the Cumberland Gallery to see if the Canalettos were still there.

Past the remaining festival sheds, kept on for the musical evening to follow, including a cloakroom for picnics.

Canalettos all present and correct, as was the Gainsborough cartoon, snapped above - in which the telephone has rather enhanced the contrast. And I had trouble holding it straight. 

Some the comments about the Canalettos from some  of the other visitors passing through the little room had been quite entertaining. It must take a bit of getting used to if you were the painter, as you must sometimes hear some of this sort of thing - stray comments about something you have put serious time into. It works the other way too, with Corpse Hirst rather annoying one of his clients, a neighbour at some dinner party, by telling him how the work the neighbour had bought with good money was largely the work of one of his sons, knocked out some afternoon when he got bored with his computer game. Apocryphal no doubt. Urban myth even.

Some of the seating for the concert which was to close the festival that evening. I think a medley of light classical and even more popular fare.

And so home for a snooze.

BH had read in the magazine that the gatehouse was going to be wrapped up to give an idea of what it would have looked like when it was first built, before the top two layers had to be lopped off, maybe for subsidence reasons. And we had seen scaffolding consistent with this story - but no wrapping. And now the elaborate scaffolding has gone. One might have thought that a wrap would have had a longer life. Maybe it got cancelled or the wrap artist got flu.

It had been interesting to compare the crowd with that at Epsom. There had been very few tattoos on view. Just the one midriff. And none of the near-bikinis sported by a lot of the girls in Epsom. But plenty of young families.

Google time-line did not do very well at all, which seemed a bit odd. Are there no telephone masts there? In any event, I turned it off for now, suspecting it of burning up a lot of battery. One more thing to ask Gemini, when I get around to it. On which I might add that he knew about the RSPB at Brading on the Isle of Wight and he knew more about the Beano Havoc festival at Hampton Court Palace than I had told him. Which last is suggestive of his getting updates from the Internet; has done more than just indexing a snapshot. Not that I should minimise this last; a Gargantuan task in itself.

PS 1: not got used to mouse free working on the Dell yet. And it can be confused if something is doing something like peeling potatoes on the same table. Hopefully, I will get better, as I am already finding that mouse free working does have its points. Don't need anywhere to put it for a start.

PS 2: I got around to asking Gemini this afternoon about why Mother Nature is so keen on the number five. It turns out that in the case of plants, there is a good explanation, all mixed up with the Fibonacci numbers, as previously noticed. But the five fingers of tetrapods is an accident of evolution. You also get fives in radially symmetrical animals like starfish, but that is something else again. And lots of things in bilaterally symmetrical animals come in pairs, which will not add up to five: Mother Nature did not lay down five as a magic number after all. Which did not stop us humans going for seven so often... And then why is five fingers so different from five petals: don't embyro animals have meristems in the way of plants... Clearly time for a break.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv6.blogspot.com/2026/04/tulips-at-noon.html.

Reference 2: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ceratostigma_willmottianum.

Reference 3: https://psmv6.blogspot.com/2026/06/the-oaks.html.