“I don't take myself seriously any more. Sometimes I just garden in my knickers and platform shoes” - Kim Wilde
Both of my Grandparents have died within the last year; with my Grandmother only passing recently. As we all met at their home before the funeral procession, I took the time to spend time in the garden as did all the grandchildren.
My Grandad was an avid gardener, amateur wine maker and in his sculptured creation was the centrepiece of a man made pond. This stretch of water that was ruthlessly guarded by some battle hardened, Ninja Gnomes.
As a child, whenever there was an opportunity to visit my Grandparents I would make my way to the garden to seek counsel with the wise sages.
I had a private fantasy world whirling around in my mind, where I was king of the gnomes and they were my private army. My Grandad also fuelled my imagination by telling me stories of what they got up to at night and all the magic things they were capable of.
It came as no surprise that when it came to clearing the family home by my Mother and her sisters, that the one requested item to be bequeathed to me was the gnomes around the pond. My Mum has secured 3 cheeky chaps and hope to be re-united with them soon.
I love the idea of gnomes and how they stimulate a child’s imagination, a little make-belief as a child is a natural thing and should be encouraged.
I dread the time when my daughter becomes a stressed SAT test victim of government thinking in the state school system, where her imagination has to comply within a pre approved syllabus from the latest strategy ‘de jour’.
Maybe the lack of freedom of imagination causes children to be only able to express themselves with computer games, attention seeking behaviour and other non-social acts just to be noticed, as they are not allowed to think anything that is not deemed policy.
“Now stop ranting Scott!”, and I do hear you but my role as a father is to drink endless cups of imaginary Tea, served from a tea-pot that would melt if hot water ever touched it and listen to every story the kids tell and watch every made up dance routine.
When did it become a parent’s job to maintain the manifesto of an ever changing education syllabus, which places political correctness first and demonises free thinkers?
I had a bad experience last week and this incident has brought me to discuss this in my blog today, and all because of Gnomes.
I would like to highlight the incident first, and then will proceed to explain.
I have a job that can afford me some flexibility, and through out the week my work is in London, the commute is hard but financially worthwhile.
Several weeks ago it seemed a good idea for me to take every Monday off so that I can spend quality time with my daughter, and over the past month we have been to the Beach, Parks, Zoo and swimming.
It was the latter that took place last Monday (15th June), now having arrived quite early we decided (well me and my 18-month daughter) that we would have a look around the garden centre next door, to prevent libel I have change the name of the famous garden centre brand to ‘Question Valley’. Whilst in the garden centre the idea of purchasing a gnome had crossed my mind.
I wheeled my daughter around in the pushchair with some difficulty, as the premises did not seem child friendly. We looked high and low but could not see the gnomes; there were china butterflies, cast irons Buddha’s and replica badgers but no gnomes?
I did what any normal person would do in this situation and that was to ask one of the store assistants in ‘Question Valley’.
The following is an accurate transcript of what transpired next, the names of the guilty have been changed, and a certain creative license has been added for dramatic purposes.
The opening sequence was myself (Scott) approaching with a pushchair and speaking to the assistant of ‘Question Valley’.
“Excuse me; I wonder if you can help me, do you know where the gnomes are?” – Said Scott
The shop assistants turned towards me with fire in her eyes and vengeful fury and with tone of condescending bile that has been vented on only the pure hated and lower classes.
“We do not sell gnomes here; this is not that kind of establishment” – The shop assistant face twisted in a hateful fury as she spat out that bile.
Suddenly as the hated comment resonated in the atmosphere, another creature older in appearance was drawn to the scene. The smell of prey was driving them into a mutual sexual frenzy and a righteous stand point.
Suddenly like a pack wolf the old man turned to Scott his face screwed up and displaying his teeth and lashed out at him with a verbal whiplash “There are no gnomes here it is not THAT sort of place”
Now Scott was astonished, but was quite calm. He already knew that he had won this battle even before he knew aggression had reared itself. He had encountered institutionalised snobbery before and was well aware that a little verbal Aikido can resolve this situation with a cheeky dash of linguistic bitch slap.
“So, would you happen to know where we could possible get a gnome” replied Scott as he implied that he and his daughter were seeking a gnome
“Why would we know, gnomes are just awful and they do not belong in a garden” The old man bellowed with the shop assistant nodding and affirming every aggressive syllable.
Scott was an educated man and knew that the two older people in front of him had obviously made a judgment about him.
He was dressed in combat shorts and a t-shirt in reflection to the scorching weather, and it was a Monday. No doubt they viewed him as a single parent who did not have a job, and took his daughter out to day trips to a garden centre as he was too poor to go anywhere else. They had reduced his status down to a common working class layabout the sort that the Daily Express and Guardian newspapers had warned them about.
However he was not going to live up to the label and alleged stereotype and responded.
“That is a shame as I love gnomes, and as a child I remember going to my grandparents, and my granddad telling me stories about the gnomes. I developed a fascination for nature and helped me with my imagination. I was hoping to pass that gift to my children”
There was an uncomfortable silence as Scott thought that maybe he had touched on a nerve as the old man and shop assistant looked up to the left sharply then down as they pondered what they had said. The still has disdain for Scott as they viewed him as weed that should be removed with physical violent weed killer.
Scott then made an assumption, and with this immediately forgave the two people in front of him, maybe they had grandchildren and grown up children. The relationship with one or possibly both is not as warm and joyous as it could be as they have always viewed children as chaos in an ordered life.
They also manifested there hatred of disorder onto gnomes as within their class they were deemed as tacky and gaudy and representative of simpler folk. They obviously made a translation of simpler folk to the working class; they had no room for either with their own sculpted creation of a calm Eden.
This Eden created with personal sacrifice will earn them validation within their chosen class circle.
The validation was far more important than a joyous relationship with there children and grandchildren.
Scott pondered some more and decided that he was not the victim here, people can sacrifice so much of their own happiness with regards to relationships in the vain attempt to attain perfection.
The mist then came rolling into the store and engulfed Scott and his daughter and just like “Keyser Söze” they were gone.
The incident was true, but was soon forgotten as I took my daughter swimming. This was followed by a picnic.
We took the picnic outside ‘Question Valley Garden Centre’, and whilst watching my daughter devour Prawn cocktail skips the following story entered my mind and immediately centred me.
The story is about Mother Teresa and how she was often invited to anti-war rallies. These were always turned down as she always believed that campaigning against something always brought about even more the thing that they campaigned about. Now she always said that if there was a peace rally then she would always be there as that was can only be attracted.
I knew that negativity of the situation must be turned around, and that my energy should not be for fighting against the system for gnomes, but for the peaceful promotion of them.
I shall now comply with my inner wisdom.
One of the most beautiful things that have ever been told to me is what Gnomes meant to Victorian England; the world gnome was cleverly turned into an acronym of Guarding Nature On Mother Earth. The simplicity of this truly captures there esoteric essence.
Gnomes were brought over from Germany in 1847 by a gentleman called Sir Charles Isham and were no doubt introduced to the occult loving high society to add a certain playful daring to there dullish lives, they were considered risqué and garish.
However there is a paradox, as they originally were a symbol of neatness and tidiness in the garden and represented order. This is completely the opposite of the elite class view and particularly the Royal Horticultural Society.
Gnomes are usually happy and have an inborn sense of security and joy. They know no fear, and they know when something is unsafe and when to stay out of the way.
The touch of a gnome also transfers their love to the thing they lay their hands on. Like healing baby birds, helping plants. Gnomes are tree huggers and often pat and converse with the trees. Tenderness is a huge part of life. It shows warmth and respect to ever living organism.
While males are often out working, learning the ways of the male gnomes, and copying the secret book, females are learning to. They learn how to treat animal’s wounds, fractures, and other injuries in the Veterinary Hospital.
Some females run bat reserves, in which they help the bats and make sure of their survival. (This part is dedicated for my daughter)
Some help fish, butterflies, or any other type of animal. Every endangered animal species is tried to be cared for by the gnomes, so they can ensure their survival on mother natures green earth.
The gnomes have no need for politics, and are a peaceful race, and never fight. They like to administer first aid to hurt animals or sometimes people. They do not hunger for power because they threw out power politics long ago.
Gnomes also don't desire material possessions, a nice house is good, but happiness is more important, they don't thrive for money, happiness is all that matters....
Are we all just trying to be gnomes?
I implore you all to place a gnome in your garden, also to tell all children wonderful stories of make believe, and how the gnomes help tidy up and nurse all the injured animals back to health.
We have recently (well Julie did) paint a Vampire gnome called ‘Vlad’ for Johnnie’s special needs school. Who have sectioned off a large part of its grassed area for a giant gnome land, we hope that they will take care of all the injured animal’s and help out where they can.
I understand now (maybe not even intended by the school) that the gnome area is a giant metaphor, and is a symbol for helping all of the children with special needs, physical disabilities and learning disorders to have peace within nature.
I will hold that beautiful thought.
In the meantime we are blessed with in Colchester a magical kingdom called “Gnome Magic” a free attraction that houses 500 + gnomes, and will be visiting soon.
If you have any gnome stories or want to mention about pixies, elves, fairies and other mystical creatures then drop me a line.
Gardens are meant to be a family sanctuary, and a place for fun and socializing. The top line quote from Kim Wilde was perfect for this blog, as we take ourselves and our gardens a bit too seriously sometimes.
Namaste
Both of my Grandparents have died within the last year; with my Grandmother only passing recently. As we all met at their home before the funeral procession, I took the time to spend time in the garden as did all the grandchildren.
My Grandad was an avid gardener, amateur wine maker and in his sculptured creation was the centrepiece of a man made pond. This stretch of water that was ruthlessly guarded by some battle hardened, Ninja Gnomes.
As a child, whenever there was an opportunity to visit my Grandparents I would make my way to the garden to seek counsel with the wise sages.
I had a private fantasy world whirling around in my mind, where I was king of the gnomes and they were my private army. My Grandad also fuelled my imagination by telling me stories of what they got up to at night and all the magic things they were capable of.
It came as no surprise that when it came to clearing the family home by my Mother and her sisters, that the one requested item to be bequeathed to me was the gnomes around the pond. My Mum has secured 3 cheeky chaps and hope to be re-united with them soon.
I love the idea of gnomes and how they stimulate a child’s imagination, a little make-belief as a child is a natural thing and should be encouraged.
I dread the time when my daughter becomes a stressed SAT test victim of government thinking in the state school system, where her imagination has to comply within a pre approved syllabus from the latest strategy ‘de jour’.
Maybe the lack of freedom of imagination causes children to be only able to express themselves with computer games, attention seeking behaviour and other non-social acts just to be noticed, as they are not allowed to think anything that is not deemed policy.
“Now stop ranting Scott!”, and I do hear you but my role as a father is to drink endless cups of imaginary Tea, served from a tea-pot that would melt if hot water ever touched it and listen to every story the kids tell and watch every made up dance routine.
When did it become a parent’s job to maintain the manifesto of an ever changing education syllabus, which places political correctness first and demonises free thinkers?
I had a bad experience last week and this incident has brought me to discuss this in my blog today, and all because of Gnomes.
I would like to highlight the incident first, and then will proceed to explain.
I have a job that can afford me some flexibility, and through out the week my work is in London, the commute is hard but financially worthwhile.
Several weeks ago it seemed a good idea for me to take every Monday off so that I can spend quality time with my daughter, and over the past month we have been to the Beach, Parks, Zoo and swimming.
It was the latter that took place last Monday (15th June), now having arrived quite early we decided (well me and my 18-month daughter) that we would have a look around the garden centre next door, to prevent libel I have change the name of the famous garden centre brand to ‘Question Valley’. Whilst in the garden centre the idea of purchasing a gnome had crossed my mind.
I wheeled my daughter around in the pushchair with some difficulty, as the premises did not seem child friendly. We looked high and low but could not see the gnomes; there were china butterflies, cast irons Buddha’s and replica badgers but no gnomes?
I did what any normal person would do in this situation and that was to ask one of the store assistants in ‘Question Valley’.
The following is an accurate transcript of what transpired next, the names of the guilty have been changed, and a certain creative license has been added for dramatic purposes.
The opening sequence was myself (Scott) approaching with a pushchair and speaking to the assistant of ‘Question Valley’.
“Excuse me; I wonder if you can help me, do you know where the gnomes are?” – Said Scott
The shop assistants turned towards me with fire in her eyes and vengeful fury and with tone of condescending bile that has been vented on only the pure hated and lower classes.
“We do not sell gnomes here; this is not that kind of establishment” – The shop assistant face twisted in a hateful fury as she spat out that bile.
Suddenly as the hated comment resonated in the atmosphere, another creature older in appearance was drawn to the scene. The smell of prey was driving them into a mutual sexual frenzy and a righteous stand point.
Suddenly like a pack wolf the old man turned to Scott his face screwed up and displaying his teeth and lashed out at him with a verbal whiplash “There are no gnomes here it is not THAT sort of place”
Now Scott was astonished, but was quite calm. He already knew that he had won this battle even before he knew aggression had reared itself. He had encountered institutionalised snobbery before and was well aware that a little verbal Aikido can resolve this situation with a cheeky dash of linguistic bitch slap.
“So, would you happen to know where we could possible get a gnome” replied Scott as he implied that he and his daughter were seeking a gnome
“Why would we know, gnomes are just awful and they do not belong in a garden” The old man bellowed with the shop assistant nodding and affirming every aggressive syllable.
Scott was an educated man and knew that the two older people in front of him had obviously made a judgment about him.
He was dressed in combat shorts and a t-shirt in reflection to the scorching weather, and it was a Monday. No doubt they viewed him as a single parent who did not have a job, and took his daughter out to day trips to a garden centre as he was too poor to go anywhere else. They had reduced his status down to a common working class layabout the sort that the Daily Express and Guardian newspapers had warned them about.
However he was not going to live up to the label and alleged stereotype and responded.
“That is a shame as I love gnomes, and as a child I remember going to my grandparents, and my granddad telling me stories about the gnomes. I developed a fascination for nature and helped me with my imagination. I was hoping to pass that gift to my children”
There was an uncomfortable silence as Scott thought that maybe he had touched on a nerve as the old man and shop assistant looked up to the left sharply then down as they pondered what they had said. The still has disdain for Scott as they viewed him as weed that should be removed with physical violent weed killer.
Scott then made an assumption, and with this immediately forgave the two people in front of him, maybe they had grandchildren and grown up children. The relationship with one or possibly both is not as warm and joyous as it could be as they have always viewed children as chaos in an ordered life.
They also manifested there hatred of disorder onto gnomes as within their class they were deemed as tacky and gaudy and representative of simpler folk. They obviously made a translation of simpler folk to the working class; they had no room for either with their own sculpted creation of a calm Eden.
This Eden created with personal sacrifice will earn them validation within their chosen class circle.
The validation was far more important than a joyous relationship with there children and grandchildren.
Scott pondered some more and decided that he was not the victim here, people can sacrifice so much of their own happiness with regards to relationships in the vain attempt to attain perfection.
The mist then came rolling into the store and engulfed Scott and his daughter and just like “Keyser Söze” they were gone.
The incident was true, but was soon forgotten as I took my daughter swimming. This was followed by a picnic.
We took the picnic outside ‘Question Valley Garden Centre’, and whilst watching my daughter devour Prawn cocktail skips the following story entered my mind and immediately centred me.
The story is about Mother Teresa and how she was often invited to anti-war rallies. These were always turned down as she always believed that campaigning against something always brought about even more the thing that they campaigned about. Now she always said that if there was a peace rally then she would always be there as that was can only be attracted.
I knew that negativity of the situation must be turned around, and that my energy should not be for fighting against the system for gnomes, but for the peaceful promotion of them.
I shall now comply with my inner wisdom.
One of the most beautiful things that have ever been told to me is what Gnomes meant to Victorian England; the world gnome was cleverly turned into an acronym of Guarding Nature On Mother Earth. The simplicity of this truly captures there esoteric essence.
Gnomes were brought over from Germany in 1847 by a gentleman called Sir Charles Isham and were no doubt introduced to the occult loving high society to add a certain playful daring to there dullish lives, they were considered risqué and garish.
However there is a paradox, as they originally were a symbol of neatness and tidiness in the garden and represented order. This is completely the opposite of the elite class view and particularly the Royal Horticultural Society.
Gnomes are usually happy and have an inborn sense of security and joy. They know no fear, and they know when something is unsafe and when to stay out of the way.
The touch of a gnome also transfers their love to the thing they lay their hands on. Like healing baby birds, helping plants. Gnomes are tree huggers and often pat and converse with the trees. Tenderness is a huge part of life. It shows warmth and respect to ever living organism.
While males are often out working, learning the ways of the male gnomes, and copying the secret book, females are learning to. They learn how to treat animal’s wounds, fractures, and other injuries in the Veterinary Hospital.
Some females run bat reserves, in which they help the bats and make sure of their survival. (This part is dedicated for my daughter)
Some help fish, butterflies, or any other type of animal. Every endangered animal species is tried to be cared for by the gnomes, so they can ensure their survival on mother natures green earth.
The gnomes have no need for politics, and are a peaceful race, and never fight. They like to administer first aid to hurt animals or sometimes people. They do not hunger for power because they threw out power politics long ago.
Gnomes also don't desire material possessions, a nice house is good, but happiness is more important, they don't thrive for money, happiness is all that matters....
Are we all just trying to be gnomes?
I implore you all to place a gnome in your garden, also to tell all children wonderful stories of make believe, and how the gnomes help tidy up and nurse all the injured animals back to health.
We have recently (well Julie did) paint a Vampire gnome called ‘Vlad’ for Johnnie’s special needs school. Who have sectioned off a large part of its grassed area for a giant gnome land, we hope that they will take care of all the injured animal’s and help out where they can.
I understand now (maybe not even intended by the school) that the gnome area is a giant metaphor, and is a symbol for helping all of the children with special needs, physical disabilities and learning disorders to have peace within nature.
I will hold that beautiful thought.
In the meantime we are blessed with in Colchester a magical kingdom called “Gnome Magic” a free attraction that houses 500 + gnomes, and will be visiting soon.
If you have any gnome stories or want to mention about pixies, elves, fairies and other mystical creatures then drop me a line.
Gardens are meant to be a family sanctuary, and a place for fun and socializing. The top line quote from Kim Wilde was perfect for this blog, as we take ourselves and our gardens a bit too seriously sometimes.
Namaste
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