I'M STAYING Chapter 1

 

CHAPTER 19

 

ENGLAND

 

THE GLASS HOUSE

 

On arrival at the estate we were very impressed with the size and possibilities of the large glass house.  Not so with the contents though.

Along one side grew tomato plants with dead and mouldy leaves, in the centre were pots containing cucumber plants also looking very weak and diseased.  Opposite the tomato plants were seedling trays containing green pepper plants having long outgrown their little containers.  There were other dead and dying plants in various pots and the whole area was thickly infested with white fly.  So much so that when we brushed a plant we were immediately enveloped in a white cloud and in danger of inhaling them.

The other end of the glass house contained a grape vine, two peach trees, and a fig tree.  All of these plants were also full of pests and disease although the fig tree was at least bearing some fruit.

My instructions were to ensure one end stayed at 80 degrees F and the opposite end at 75 degrees. So it was a matter of opening or closing the vents according to what the thermometers said.  And of course depending on the weather, which changed hourly at that time of the year. 

I was often screamed at for opening vents when the weather was cool and the temperature had dipped below that recommended but the following day I would be blasted because the place was now like an “inferno” because the sun was shining and the vents hadn’t been opened. 

It was an absolute nightmare trying to regulate this place and keep Sir Duncan happy and I would run backwards and forwards checking the temperature and the vents with the weather playing tricks on me by constantly changing from arctic to tropical conditions within minutes.

We tackled the disease and mess, trimmed, sprayed, watered, fed, and re-potted the plants  The whitefly was completely out of control and without actually removing the plants there wasn’t a lot else we could do.  I felt concerned about the amount of poisons being sprayed on vegetables that were going to be consumed in the house although nobody else seemed to be overly worried. As I’ve always been an advocate of natural pest control especially with fruit and vegetables, I bought fresh garlic and chillies and every evening crushed these and steeped them in a pot of water ready to spray the plants the following morning but this treatment had very little effect on the infestation, except to provide a delicious garlic aroma to the glasshouse.

I continued to care for these plants when I knew they didn’t have a chance of survival.  As the tomatoes ripened I picked them and presented them in the kitchen where they were used in salads, soups and sauces (along with all the deadly poison that had been sprayed on them), all the time thinking about the confusion in economies. 

I began to understand that it wasn’t so much about the quality of the vegetable as the importance of being able to show the outside world that the estate produced its own food and that traditions were being followed. Hundreds of years’ of traditions to uphold.

After gallons of poison had been sprayed, hundreds of mice murdered and many hours of labour wasted, a consultant was called in (at great expense, we were informed but as usual an “expert”).

He arrived late one afternoon and we were all called to a very important meeting in the glasshouse. Even Lady Felicity was in attendance.  A pleasant and very knowledgeable man, he explained exactly how we should be using the glasshouse and of course it was all common sense.

Now we were told how important it was to keep the glasshouse well ventilated to avoid fungal diseases.

The very next morning at 7.30 I was verbally attacked by my boss.   After having been given so many conflicting instructions I was unsure whether to open up or leave the vents closed.  I voted for common sense and to leave it closed until the weather improved later in the morning.  Wrong!  He had a complete temper tantrum there on the pathway where his face turned purple and he visibly shook with rage, jumping up and down while he ranted that I was the most stupid ignorant imbecile because I hadn’t yet opened up the vents.

Although what we were by this stage protecting, I’m not sure; some very miserable looking green peppers and a few straggly looking and unidentified plants in pots was all that had survived the war of damp and hot tropical conditions together with vast quantities of a large variety of poisons.

This was, of course, just another opportunity for him to throw all his toys out of his pram.  I actually expected to see him lie down and hammer his feet on the floor, he so reminded me of my son at the age of 2.  Nevertheless, it was enough to reduce me to tears.  After months of homesickness, efforts to adjust to life in a new country together with the constant criticism of Sir Duncan, I completely folded and ran to my husband for comfort and support.  This didn’t improve relations between John and the boss of course.

We were then given a three page list of instructions on what to do with the glasshouse concerning the cleaning of and disposal of diseased plants.  When we arrived there were about twenty green pepper plants in the glass house looking very sad. I was told to re-pot them which I did but I realised that it was already too late in the season for these plants to produce any decent fruit. Some small peppers did eventually grow, only to turn black from disease. 

One of the written instructions was to throw away the green pepper plants, but first remove the fruit. I looked at these poor sad, blackened plants and using my common sense (big mistake) I made a decision to throw them away in entirety on to the bonfire. Well, once again I was to be reminded that I wasn’t employed to use my head, my knowledge, or my common sense, but merely to follow instruction. My decision gave Sir Duncan much cause for more temper tantrums.

When I explained that they were diseased, tiny, blackened fruit that I had discarded, his answer was “I don’t care! I told you to remove the fruit first!”  Shutting himself away in his study and after many days of research on his part he was so happy to announce at the next meeting that black green peppers can indeed be eaten! My feeling was: why don’t you go to the supermarket like everyone else and buy some nice big fresh, healthy peppers? But since my intention was to remain employed and to at least appear to be a loyal and obedient staff member, I remained silent.

From that day on I picked every vegetable in the garden, whether they were riddled with worms or even completely rotten, I presented them in the kitchen and asked the housekeeper to ensure she showed everything to Sir Duncan before disposing of it.

If one of the richest men in the country felt the need to eat rotten vegetables then so be it.  Who was I to question?

Once the glasshouse had been completely cleaned and sterilised and all the plants treated and put away for the winter it was decided that the vents should be left slightly open at all times for a good flow of air to prevent more disease build up.  But the question of how to know when to close them then arose. We felt that obviously if the temperature dipped to zero or below then it would be time to close the vents, however Sir wanted to wait until that exact moment.  Naturally on a normal day in autumn when I finished work at 4pm the temperature wouldn’t be low enough to warrant closing the vents.  His solution to this was that I get up during the night and if the temperature had then hit zero, I was to zoom down to the glass house to close up.   In the dark and cold I should get out of bed to wonder across the estate to do what he considered “my duty.”  Fortunately Lady Felicity thought this quite ridiculous and I was for once given her full support that I shouldn’t have to roam around the estate in my pyjamas at midnight.  Sir Duncan was most displeased as he seemed to feel that paying me the minimum wage should ensure complete devotion to my work 24/7 and in fact it should be an honour for me to perform whatever duties he ordered me to perform.