Nature’s role in the recovery process

Carol Klein on breast cancer, the climbing rose that got her through recovery, her new memoir – and bath time with John Lennon

Your Hortobiography is filled with some surprising stuff, not least an unusual encounter with John Lennon.

Yes! In my teens, I worked in Manchester – where I’m originally from – and spent all my evenings going out. I didn’t know much about The Beatles when I got talking to one after they’d played the Oasis Club. It was 1961 and I was 15 or 16. The place was so crowded and music so loud we retired to the bathroom and sat in the bath to chat about all sorts of things, mainly art. He was several years my senior but we talked very much as equals. I didn’t realise until their first 45” single Love Me Do and P.S. I Love You was released a year later that I’d shared a bath – albeit fully clothed – with John Lennon. He was the best Beatle, but actually I was more into The Rolling Stones.

You describe almost a whole life before you went into professional horticulture, so how did that happen?

I’ve had all sorts of jobs from shop assistant to statistician at the British Insulated Callender’s Cables near Wigan and was also an art teacher for many years. Most of my life has ‘happened’ rather than following some predetermined course, but I’ve always been mad keen about nature and knew I wanted to grow plants. I recognised that would necessitate selling them, but didn’t plan to set up my former nursery, Glebe Cottage Plants; it was more of a feel-your-way-along process. At our peak, we made three-quarters of our dosh selling at flower shows. I’ve had an incredibly happy life, but I’m not exactly rolling in money – I’m not even sure if my VW Passat will get through the MOT! It’s shocking how little nurseries make, especially now people are buying plants online. They’re missing out on so much expert knowledge from talking to the nursery people.

You also write about your recent breast cancer. How was it discovered?

A couple of years ago, I thought something didn’t look quite right but left it. Earlier this year, I noticed my nipple was depressed and different and was referred to the Breast Care Clinic. I had a mammogram and a biopsy. They found cancer in my right breast and, later, what they’d thought was pre-cancer in my left breast turned out to be cancer too. I was taken aback, but one in eight women experience breast cancer so why not me? I didn’t think of it as a battle either; it was something to get through.

It didn’t stop you presenting from the RHS Chelsea Flower Show, though.

There was no question I wouldn’t do RHS Chelsea; I’ve been going for 35 years. I’d been filming for BBC Gardeners’ World a couple of days before I had a double mastectomy on 8 April and was then at RHS Chelsea a week or two after I had another operation to remove the sentinel nodes around the left breast. I didn’t miss a single day of filming.

You write movingly about a climbing rose that helped your recovery. What was it?

My beautiful Rosa banksiae ‘Lutea’ AGM was in full flower when all this was going on. I spent a lot of time in my bedroom for two weeks after the operation, but I could still sit and enjoy that rose from my window. It’s very special – just beautiful and vigorous with so many flowers; it’s full of life. In Chinese medicine, it’s used to heal wounds. It was a real reminder of what I do and who I am; it gave me such strength.

Your garden at Glebe Cottage must also have provided some solace.

When I could get out again, gardening side by side with nature helped me enormously, but then it always has. Gardening is not part of nature, but nature is very definitely a part of gardening in that you see your place within it. Whatever happens, it carries on; it does what it wants and will recover. We’ve been making our garden here at Glebe for 46 years, but it’s getting to the stage where a lot of things need quite hefty treatment. For example, a self-seeded hazel is now about 15 feet tall.

Has cancer treatment affected your ability to get to grips with the garden?

After the main operation, I had to stay in bed because you’re incapable of doing anything else for a bit, and I couldn’t garden, which was so frustrating. One of the most annoying things was that I’d sowed a load of seeds but hadn’t pricked some of them out nor potted them on. Things got leggy or a bit starved, but I didn’t lose anything. Plants are amazing survivors, great recoverers; I should follow their example. My arms aren’t very flexible now, but the real difference is old age. I still try to leap up onto walls and find I can’t. I’m going into decline; I’ll have to modify!

How did it feel when you got the all clear?

I’d been recording podcasts for BBC Gardeners’ World when I got the call on 23 May. My consultant had to wait while I whooped around the room! It meant I could get on with what I do, and what’s important to me. But I’m one of the lucky ones; plenty of others haven’t had the all clear. I was horrified to learn that women over 70 are no longer invited for NHS screening. You can request a mammogram, but I don’t think many people know. The more I read, the more I realised how important it is for younger women to check their breasts too. I think schoolgirls should be breast aware.

You’re 80 next year, so what might the future look like?

I’m really interested in where gardening is going and how it can influence. I intend to make sure there’s an emphasis on people growing their own stuff. It’s the same philosophy as recycling and composting. People will know more about plants if they grow them themselves – and constantly buying plants and cut flowers from abroad is a drain on other people’s natural resources. As for me, I’d like to continue to encourage lots more people to garden, especially the next generation. My wonderful father-in-law used to say, “Do your best and that’ll do”. That’s a smashing philosophy, isn’t it? It’s always stood me in good stead.

A life in five plants

Galanthus ‘S. Arnott’ AGM (snowdrop)

Their honeyed scent transports me back to sitting at my grandma’s knee as she opened a parcel of snowdrops wrapped in lush moss from her sister in Cornwall.

Primrose

On the way to family holidays in north Wales, Mum and I would make Dad stop for us to ‘spend a penny’. In reality we’d throw ourselves into the primroses carpeting the banks.

Lilium speciosum (showy Japanese lily)

The day before my wedding I realised I had no flowers but happened to drive past a pot of lilies outside a house in South Molton. The gentleman who’d grown them cut them for me and wouldn’t take any money.

Cercis siliquastrum (Judas tree)

Grown from a pod that Mum picked up from the pavement in Portugal 35 years ago. It’s now 20ft high!

Daphne bholua ‘Jacqueline Postill’ AGM

We have two in memory of my husband’s parents, their ashes buried underneath. We poured a very good bottle of wine over my mother-in-law’s. It’s thriving!

For more information or if you have any concerns about breast cancer, visit the Breast Cancer Now website.

This page is an adaptation of an article published in the October 2024 edition of The Garden magazine, free to RHS members every month when you join the RHS.

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