Years ago on one of my trips to London, I took a train to Cambridge and got lost down a country lane. Walking in a daydream through the prettiness that is Cambridge in May, past grazing goats and children on bikes, I turned into a gate to ask for directions. I was met by an elderly gardener in a tweed vest and cap who smiled kindly at me as I explained my dilemma and from whence I had come. All the way from Australia and now lost in the woods with no idea how to get back to the village. He led me into the garden and offered me a cup of tea as he had just boiled the kettle. It turned out this was the garden where the Queen Mother’s prize winning geraniums were grown! What a treat. Here I was in the private domain of one of Britain’s most beloved royals. We had tea, I was shown the hothouses where row upon of terra cotta pots lined the benches in a profusion of colour and gorgeousness. It was a fleeting visit but I have never forgotten it. Naturally.