Britain gallery: Tree of Life

In the 1970s I shared a flat with some mates on Kew Road, opposite the Gardens (one of

us was actually a gardener on the site at the time). It used to cost threepence, old pence

that is, to get in, about a single penny at today's rates. It cost £8 the last time I went, and

that was a few years ago, and it's still worth it. It's an odd comfort, for a botanical ignoramus

like me, to know that here is the world's foremost repository of plant species from every

conceivable location on the planet, all scientifically kept in reproducible condition for recovery in

the event of a global catastrophe. Whilst we gaily go about the destruction of the planet

itself, and its wildlife species, in the pursuit of survival or riches, we can be sure that, when

that 6-mile-wide comet hits us and the world becomes uninhabitable, all known flower, tree

and plant species are safe. Under lock and key.

Having waited long enough for this peacock to position himself in front of Kew's 'Tree of Life',

I naturally wanted him to complete the scene by dispaying his magnificent tail feathers. The

blighter refused, perhaps because there wasn't a peahen in the vicinity to display to (clearly I

wasn't adequate). I've no doubt someone will get that picture one day.

In the 1970s I shared a flat with some mates on Kew Road, opposite the Gardens (one of us was

actually a gardener on the site at the time). It used to cost threepence, old pence that is, to get

in, about a single penny at today's rates. It cost £8 the last time I went, and that was a few years

ago, and it's still worth it. It's an odd comfort, for a botanical ignoramus like me, to know that here

is the world's foremost repository of plant species from every conceivable location on the planet,

all scientifically kept in reproducible condition for recovery in the event of a global catastrophe.

Whilst we gaily go about the destruction of the planet itself, and its wildlife species, in the pursuit of

survival or riches, we can be sure that, when that 6-mile-wide comet hits us and the world

becomes uninhabitable, all known flower, tree and plant species are safe. Under lock and key.

Having waited long enough for this peacock to position himself in front of Kew's 'Tree of Life', I

naturally wanted him to complete the scene by dispaying his magnificent tail feathers. The blighter

refused, perhaps because there wasn't a peahen in the vicinity to display to (clearly I wasn't

adequate). I've no doubt someone will get that picture one day.