N the summer of 1964, a 15-year-old lad with one O level in Art asked his parents if he could leave school a year early and go to work as a gardener in a local nursery. After some misgivings and earnest discussions about the wisdom of such an undertaking, they said ‘yes’. Dwelling in the past, as many older folk are wont to do, is gene-rally inadvisable. It becomes an exercise in uncomfortable comparisons. But it can also be a reminder of the benefits of progress. Especially in the garden.
