On a sunny day in October, a peaceful old orchard becomes a hive of activity. It is time to harvest the apples and pears weighing down the branches of the fruit trees at Hambrook House on the edge of the Cotswold Hills.
This four-acre walled garden produces a bumper crop of fruit every year, including many rare varieties. But some 20 years ago, it was a very different story, with the 300-year-old orchard overgrown and neglected.
“It was a wilderness of brambles, nettles and rubble, with a derelict hut and a roofless barn,” says Scott Carleton. He is the owner of the land, with Graeme Alexander. They bought the 17th century farmhouse 30 years ago. Then they discovered that the property had owned a neighbouring orchard for 200 years, until it was sold off after the Second World War.
Perched on a hillock in the orchard was a strange addition, a 30ft-high (9.1m) church steeple, sitting on top of a grassy mound. This had been erected by a previous owner of the house, the Rev John Pring, 150 years ago. It came from St Michael’s Church at nearby Winterbourne, where it was deemed unsafe after being struck by lightning. The Rev Pring had it dismantled and rebuilt in his orchard.
“There was no church to go with it,” says Scott. “Instead, a flight of steps in the mound led down to a door and a mysterious stone-walled chamber with the word Gerizim carved above it.” For many years this was generally thought to be a Georgian ice house. It is now believed to have been built as an apple store.
Graeme and Scott determined to buy the orchard back and return it to productivity. “We wanted to restore the house and its land as they had once been, as part of the history of the area,” says Scott. But two centuries of neglect were not easy to eradicate.
“Four or five cows which wandered round the orchard had made a path between clumps of bramble and coarse vegetation, such as thistles, dock and ragwort,” says Scott. “One of the bramble clumps concealed a car. Most of the others concealed agricultural equipment, including an old harrow and parts of carts, including huge wheels. On the positive side, it was a haven for wildlife.”
It was hard to tell that the approximately 50 remaining trees were even there, as there was considerable dead wood. Many were almost strangled by a crippling intrusion of ivy. “In some cases, there was only a few feet of growth at the very apex of the trees.
A disease called fire blight had ravaged them too,” recalls Scott.
The two men were keen to preserve as much wildlife as possible, while returning the land to being a thriving orchard. “We wanted to only gradually change an environment which clearly supported birds, bats, snakes and hedgehogs,” he says. “We were concerned about how much we would be affecting the food chain, so we decided to ask for help.”
Advice on planting and upkeep came from both South Gloucestershire County Council and specialists from the former Long Ashton research station (LARS). This agricultural and horticultural government research centre was created in 1903 to study and improve the West Country cider industry. It later expanded its work into fruit research, but closed in 2003.
Scott and Graeme consequently drew up a 10-year plan. “We commissioned two surveys from LARS, a year apart,” says Scott. “The first one was in September 1996, before we started work. A number of samples of fruit and leaves were taken to the Royal Horticultural Society at Wisley in Surrey for identification. Most of the trees proved to be very tall pears, possibly dating back to 1853. There were some apple trees, but they tend not to live for more than 100 years, whereas pears can live up to 300 years.”
The couple were told they had a ‘Beurre Diel’ and nine
‘Dr Jules Guyot’ pears, and some possible ‘Wellington’ apple trees, also known as Dumelow’s Seedlings. “It’s actually not easy to identify fruit trees as there are variations even within a variety,” says Scott. “We had one expert telling us our pears were for perry-making and another who said they were culinary.”
The report advised against removing the dead wood wholesale. Insects feed on the dead wood and, in turn, provide food for birds. “It did say we should chop down any sizeable rotting branches in case they fell on anyone,” says Scott.
Clearing the land
It was suggested they begin by cutting paths with a mower to the individual trees and then a circle round them.
“The mowing was to be without a box so the grass cuttings could be left to feed the trees,” says Scott. “It was recommended that we gradually cleared all the existing overgrown material. The intervening areas between the trees should be allowed to grow annually to encourage wild flowers. It would then be cleared in the late summer or early autumn.”
They were advised to spread a good scattering of well-rotted farmyard manure evenly on the cleared area, at three ounces per square yard. If they did not have that, they could use a balanced fertiliser which is high in nitrogen and potash.
“We mowed where the five cows had meandered. Gradually over a decade, with some help, we cut down the coarse vegetation. The cuttings were left on site to rot down and become a habitat for creepy crawlies,” says Scott.
Once the trees could be accessed, the next step was to prune them. The dead and some of the living branches were removed to let in light and air.
Sadly, many of the trees were beyond saving and had to be taken out. However, they managed to keep 60 of both apple and pear. “We had a lovely time choosing our 40 or so new trees. These were mainly eating apples, because we were concerned new pear trees would get fire blight. We went for a combination of taste, historical association, disease-resistance and their names,” says Scott. “Who could resist such wonderful old-fashioned names like ‘Chorister Boy’, ‘Christmas Pearmain’ and ‘Gillyflower of Gloucester’? Then there is the ‘Leathercoat Russet’ mentioned by Shakespeare, the ‘Ashmead’s Kernel’ dating back to around 1700 and the ‘Court Pendu Plat’. The latter was possibly grown by the Romans, who are said to have brought apples into Britain originally.
“We planted many of them in a traditional quincunx pattern of five points arranged in a cross, with four of them forming a square or rectangle and a fifth at its centre,” he says. This pattern of planting allows each tree to receive equal amounts of light. It also allows easier access for mowing, weed control and fruit collection.
“They came with mistletoe implanted in them. We have two pairs of mistle thrushes who nest here and dine lavishly on the mistle berries.”
Among the new trees are rarer varieties. These include one called ‘Berkeley Pippin’, which was thought to be extinct and is now on the critical list, and one ‘Golden Knob’.
“The reason some apples are rare is that they fell out of favour,” says Scott. “Either the flavour wasn’t as good as new varieties, or they were disease-prone, or didn’t crop well, bruised easily or looked ugly. We love the taste of ‘Berkeley Pippin’, which is a dessert apple, and our ‘Golden Knob’, but its apples are tiny and not good-looking. The tree is small and doesn’t crop every year, so it isn’t practical for commercial growers.”
The new apple trees were one-year-old maidens, and looked like twigs. However, these maidens establish better than large trees. “It felt a long wait but, at the end of the 10-year plan, we have a productive orchard,” says Scott.
The orchard is now mown four times a year to help the wildflowers, such as buttercups, dandelions, bugle and lady smocks, which already grew there. “We also planted yellow rattle, but it doesn’t appear to be growing,” says Scott. “The
soil is so good that coarse vegetation grows quickly and overwhelms the wildflowers.”
As the site was improved, more trees were planted, including cherries, plums, quinces, hazels, a sweet chestnut, and a mulberry. The orchard is now snowy with blossom each spring and heavy with fruit in the autumn.
“An orchard is always one of the most beautiful and tranquil places to be,” says Scott. “It looks its best in the autumn when the fruit is glowing in the trees. We often find fungi like waxcaps, puffballs, field mushrooms and bracket fungus on the orchard floor or on the trunks.”
Bottling the juice
“Most of the apples are sent off for juicing. A proportion of the crop goes to a couple of Bristol restaurants who want unusual local varieties, especially from an orchard run on organic lines,” he says. “We don’t produce many pears, as the old trees are past production and we have only a few young ones. What we have also goes for juicing.
“Our reward is a number of bottles of apple juice from the farmer. These we label ourselves and use on festive occasions. A lot of it goes as Christmas presents.”
Windfalls are left on the ground for birds to devour, such as the redwings and the fieldfares, as well as bats, mammals and insects.
Over their two decades of labour Scott and Graeme have taken great joy in their orchard. “It was very satisfying to see the orchard gradually shape up and get back to how it must have looked in its heyday.”
Chamber of mystery
At first, Scott and Graeme accepted the consensus of opinion that the bee-hive shaped stone chamber beneath the steeple was an ice house. “An 1870s OS map described it as such,” says Scott. “And not far away was a long, stone-faced ditch which could have been a small canal, useful as a source of ice.”
This had seemed to convince writers Sylvia P Beamon and Susan Roaf, who included it in their book The Ice-houses of Britain (pub 1990). However, they did add that a surveyor who visited the orchard in 1977 thought the chamber was an apple store.
“This would explain the word Gerizim,” says Scott. “It’s a Biblical reference meaning fruitful mountain. It would fit in with it being the creation of the Rev Pring whom CHB Elliott, in his book Winterbourne, Gloucestershire (pub 1936), describes as a very keen gardener. It explains why there is neither drainage nor an insulated passageway normally found in an ice house. It also accounts for the iron mesh door and vents in the mound as ice houses would never need ventilation. Any gaps would have been stuffed with straw and hay.”
As for the steeple, it emerged that it had been struck by lightening at least twice before it was finally moved. Once was in 1583 when it was described as “piteously wrecked” and
again 10 years later. However, on the third occasion, in 1827, it had virtually expired.
The chamber has been restored and is now Grade II listed. An 18th century weather vane was regilded and placed on top of the spire during the year Scott’s parents celebrated their golden wedding anniversary. “And now we have put a memorial to my mother in the entrance,” he says.
Scott makes one last tantalising suggestion. “Gerizim was one of a pair of Old Testament mountains, so its twin, Ebal, may also still be around. Does anyone know?”
Seventy-five per cent of Gloucestershire’s orchards have been lost in the past 50 years. Changes in farming include the introduction of chemicals and intensive growing for high output. Many small, mixed family farms with sheep and cattle grazing in the orchards have gone. Grants were given to grub out the old orchards, to increase the amount of land for food production.
On top of this is a lack of demand for the type of apples grown. Supermarkets sell imported apples all year round, leaving many people unaware of the seasonality of fruit. It is no longer the practice to buy apples to store in sheds or a cold room.
The early 1990s saw a revival in the county’s orchards, when it was realised that those left were under threat of disappearing. In many cases, only one tree remained of some local varieties. In 1992, a Restoring Our Landscape grant was introduced by Gloucestershire County Council. This lasted for approximately five years and successfully resulted in more than 3,000 orchard trees being planted. The Gloucestershire Orchard Trust was set up, and now has 150 members. Its aim is both to conserve threatened species and revitalise the fruit growing industry. Over the last decade, a special effort has been made to locate and identify local varieties. These are grafted or budded on to other trees, to save them.
Words: Victoria Jenkins Photography: Will Goddard
Myriad early flowers and blossom fill a riverside garden in Kent, its planting a legacy of one woman’s vision.
On the outskirts of the ancient Kentish village of Yalding, a narrow lane leads across the floodplain of the River Medway to the daffodil-flanked drive of a former oast house. This is Parsonage Oasts, the home of Edward and Jennifer Raikes. In spring, the garden erupts into a haze of flowering trees and shrubs. White magnolia and Ribes sanguineum compete and blend with red and pink Japanese quince and camellias. All are under-planted with more than 30 types of daffodil, fritillaria, hellebores, lime green euphorbia and tiny tulips.
The early 19th century red brick and timber-clad oast house, originally designed to dry hops, occupies an idyllic position at the water’s edge. There are sweeping views in both directions of the Medway. “The river is a great asset. I like seeing the people and the birds on it,” says Jennifer. “It keeps the garden a bit warmer. But it also means that the soil is very light and full of gravel. It dries out a lot, so needs plenty of watering to encourage plants such as grape hyacinths and geraniums to get going.”
To this end, seven water butts are dotted around the ¾ acre plot to collect water from various roofs. Jennifer also relies on plentiful supplies of spring water pumped up from a small well. This is situated behind the house on a patch of lawn. Sometimes the river contributes too. Yalding hit the national news over Christmas 2013 when it was flooded after a deluge of rain. Parsonage Oasts did not escape and the garden was doused. The floodwater disappeared as quickly as it came and left no lasting damage to the plants, trees and shrubs. The main victims were the beehives Edward has kept for 30 years, although these have been replaced now.
The Raikeses are used to the river’s moods, having lived at Parsonage Oasts since 1968. They moved in to help look after Edward’s grandmother, Gladys, in her very old age. “It was Gladys who made the garden when she came here in 1954,” says Jennifer. “She bought the derelict oast and a parcel of land from Parsonage Farm and, with the help of her architect, turned it into a home. Aided by a local man with the lovely name of Mr Startup, she started to create the garden out of the farmyard, which was a complete bramble patch, all overgrown.”
Although Gladys was well into her 70s, she planted magnolias and apple trees. She also put in hedges of yew, box and shrubby honeysuckle. Lawns were laid out and low brick walls built, with gravel pathways that flowed around the garden. She put in a small rose garden and a variety of shrubs. “It was already a very nice garden when we came here,” remembers Jennifer. “But, as we spent most of our time looking after our three small children, it got quite overgrown and weedy. It was only after they got a bit bigger that we began to garden in a more serious way, at the end of the ’70s.”
An outside dining room
One of their first major additions was an arbour on the sun terrace outside the drawing room. This was created for a young strawberry vine, Vitis vinifera ‘Rembrandt’, to clamber over. “The vine is a cutting taken from an original planted by Gladys. That had died in 1971, the same year as Gladys died. We got some old water pipes from a junkyard and put them up.”
In spring, this wonderful old vine starts sending out new shoots, which result in masses of edible, bronze-coloured grapes in late summer. With its snug position against the house, the sun terrace is one of the Raikes’ favourite places to sit. As soon as the weather is good enough, they take their meals out here, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Tucked into one corner is a favourite garden ornament, an armillary sphere. A pidgin Latin inscription translates as: “This garden is the fruit of the wisdom of Gladys Raikes.” It was made for them in 1975 to commemorate Granny’s creation of the garden.
To the left of the terrace is a low brick wall, beyond which is the river. Beneath it, a well-stocked herbaceous border is brightly lit with bold, orange-flowered crown imperials, Fritillaria imperialis. Its large bulbs are planted between the burgeoning lilies, geraniums and tulips. “Granny put some in to start with, but I do keep them topped up, and they carry on year to year,” says Jennifer. “They are scene-stealers, very dramatic.” There is a great deal of foliage as well, because Jennifer loves the soothing qualities of the colour green. “I like white, silver and green together, and contrasting leaf shapes,” she says. “These range from pointy such as fritillaria, and palmate, geraniums for example, to big sheaves of leaves such as tulips and daffodils.”
From the terrace, there is a picture-postcard view onto one of Granny’s best legacies. On the far side of the well-kept lawn, a huge Magnolia x soulangeana, or saucer magnolia, is covered in lightly scented flowers. “The magnolia comes in March,” says Jennifer. “It is at its best at the beginning of April, then has a second flowering in July. We mulch it every autumn with its own leaves and a bit of fertiliser, perhaps some hoof and horn.”
Next to the magnolia, and helping to set it off, is the tiny, snowy blossom of a delicate white flowering currant, Ribes sanguineum. Jennifer planted this to increase the visual interest in that corner of the garden. Beneath both trees are swathes of purple hellebores Helleborus purpurascens, white windflowers Anemone nemorosa, and drifts of daffodils. This underplanting seems to anchor the nut-brown trunks in a sea of gentle colour that enhances all the varieties of green Jennifer adores.
Another of Granny’s stars lies across the lawn to the right of the arbour. This is a large and prolifically fruiting ‘Gascoyne’s Scarlet’ apple tree. “It has the most gorgeous blossom,” says Jennifer. “Despite its age, last year we had 130 bottles of juice from it. Edward prunes it very severely in February or early March to keep that parasol shape. It’s quite a big job and takes a couple of days to do properly.” Approximately three decades ago, Edward attached a swing to one of the tree’s sturdy branches for their grandsons to use. It is still being enjoyed now by their youngest granddaughter, Etta.
Spheres of box
One of Granny’s introductions that did not stay the course was her rose garden. This originally led out from a back door, bisecting the lawn, in front of the apple tree. “By the late 1970s the beds were full of bindweed and the roses weren’t doing well. We took the whole thing out to replace it with something less high maintenance,” says Jennifer. In its place, they put down a simple gravel path, flanked by two rows of hardwearing Tunbridge Wells paviours, interspersed with box balls to create a focal point. “Each ball is made up of up to 30 plants that have grown together to form a mound. Edward always trims them on Derby Day [the first Saturday in June],” says Jennifer. The magnificent spheres are now 3ft (1m) in girth. They are teamed with pots of abelia ‘Sunshine Daydream’ and ‘Confetti’, chosen for their contrasting pale pink-green-yellow foliage.
At the end of the lawn, through a gate and down a few steps, is the wild garden. This is dotted with all manner of trees, including ash, oak, pine, willow, crab apple, alder and hornbeam. In 1999, they dug a pond on the side of the wild garden nearest the river to encourage frogs, though none have yet colonised it. “We bought a pocket of woodland in 1996 with the idea of having a managed wildness. This area is full of old-fashioned daffodils, bluebells, snowdrops, white Anemone blanda and hybrid whitebells. Someone gave me a sack of them, so I planted them all here.”
A hawthorn that was taking light from the area has been cut down. Instead, they have started to plant camellias, which like the shady, slightly damp conditions. On the little path above that looks into the wild area from the main garden, camellias in pots are putting their roots down to get established. So far, the collection has approximately 15 varieties.
Returning to the formal garden, beyond the apple tree, the flower beds running next to the house are punctuated with a variety of scented shrubs. There are wintersweet Chimonanthus praecox, and winter honeysuckle Lonicera fragrantissima. “You can’t beat natural fragrances,” says Jennifer. She is delighted to add another sensory element to her spring garden with shrubs such as sweet box Sarcococca confusa, and the deliciously scented daphne ‘Eternal Fragrance’.
A host of daffodils
On the far right of the garden is a storage area in the shape of ‘the little barn’. Growing next to this former bullock shed is a striking Japanese quince, Chaenomeles speciosa, creating spring impact with its intense red flowers. In front of the bothy, the kitchen garden is now starting to burst into life.
From here, the path meanders through a gate round to the front of the house, past drifts of more daffodils. “We started putting in the daffodil bulbs about 20 years ago and now have over 30 varieties,” says Jennifer. They start flowering in December with ‘Rijnveld Early Sensation’ and finish in May with ‘Pheasant’s Eye’. Some of her favourites include the heritage variety ‘Baths Flame’, bred pre-1913, and the modern white daffodil ‘Thalia’. Other favourites include scented narcissi such as bright yellow ‘Little Witch’ and white and yellow ‘Jack Snipe’. “We don’t replenish the daffies because they last forever. We do get a few extra varieties every year from our local bulb specialist, de Jager,” she adds.
The Raikeses work in the garden all year round, planting, weeding, pruning, clipping, mowing, edging and mulching. Tasks include growing on cuttings from favourite plants such as Jennifer’s collection of pelargoniums.
The spring season, however, is a time of enormous pleasure and anticipation of good things to come. “The garden delights both of us,” says Jennifer. “It’s our hobby like other people play golf or have a yacht, and we’re out in it most days. But we don’t spend huge amounts of money on it. We have lots of plants given by friends, and I give away cuttings and bulbs too.”
Her favourite time in this season is between 4pm and 5pm. This is when she potters round to see what needs a bit of attention, such as feeding or tying in or deadheading. “Plants need help, of course they do, and the garden is very much a work in progress,” she says.
Words: Caroline Wheater Photography: Abigail Rex
Parsonage Oasts, Hampstead Lane, Yalding, Kent, ME18 6HG. Tel 01622 814272.
VIVID BERRIES AND LEAVES OF SPINDLE TREE PROVIDE FOOD FOR BIRDS AND VISUAL TREAT
With the approach of winter, spindle trees start to set the garden ablaze with the colour of their fruit and foliage. These shrubs, botanically known as euonymus, shake off their previously plain appearance, as the leaves burn red and purple. It is, however, the bright, jewel-like fruits that gleam in misty hedgerows. In spinning cascades of pink and orange, they create droplets of pure, bright colour amid the drab branches of other deciduous shrubs. These fruits persist like hot embers long after the foliage has fallen.
A feast for birds
The fat seed capsules are divided into four plump symmetrical lobes like miniature lanterns. These split to reveal glossy orange, rounded fruits that descend from their covers and spin in the breeze. As they ripen and become more prominent, the colourful seeds provide a valuable food source. Persisting well into winter, birds feast off them through the coldest months.
The birds are attracted by the orange fleshy seed coat, with its high-calorie nutrition. Inside the coat the true seeds remain intact after being eaten. Because of this, they are able to make their way through the birds’ digestive tracts to be deposited far away from the parent plant. This is an exquisitely balanced natural relationship. It supports native birds, helping them to survive through winter, while the spindle tree is able to propagate itself throughout the countryside.
The native Euonymus europaeus is such a veritable larder for birds that it will often be aggressively defended by robins making it part of their territory. For this reason,
it is known as ‘robins’ bread’ in some areas of the country.
The fruit is poisonous to humans, as are all parts of the plant. The toxic berries, however, have been put to good use. One traditional remedy for head lice involved applying the crushed berries to the scalp. Referencing the plant’s poisonous nature, the name ‘euonymus’ may originate from Euonyme. In Greek mythology she was the mother of vengeance-wreaking goddesses, the Furies.
The bright fruits are often initially seen dangling below a mantle of colourful leaves. Before it falls, the spindle tree’s foliage has one of the most impressive transformations in the British landscape. It turns from an unobtrusive dark green to a bright pinkish red with splashes of purple and hints of orange.
‘Red Cascade’, a cultivar of Euonymus europaeus, has the brightest and perhaps best colour for this time of year of any plant. A spreading shrub, it reaches 10ft (3m) across and 8ft (2.5m) high. The scalloped leaves gradually turn deep red, starting at the midrib and spreading to the leaf edges. Before the metamorphosis is complete, the leaves take on hues of pink, orange and purple. ‘Red Cascade’ bears plentiful fruit, the branches bowing under the weight.
A lesser-known characteristic of spindle trees is just as fascinating. A close look into the criss-crossing mass of leafless winter branches and the ‘winged’ outline of the straight stems becomes apparent. The branches develop four wings of corky bark, which if cut through have a cross-shaped silhouette. This feature is most prominent on Euonymus alatus, known as the winged spindle. Originating in Asia, it grows to 10ft (3m) in height, gradually spreading to a similar width. With age the bark of the main stems may become fissured, adding to the unusual and sculptural winter outline of this plant.
A limestone lover
The native European spindle, Euonymus europaeus, thrives on alkaline soils and is common on the chalk downs of southern England and on limestone hills and vales. Preferring full sun and freely draining soils, it is tolerant of winds and hard frosts. While it can be found in the shrubby lower canopy of ash, beech or yew woodland, the leaves will be at their most colourful in an open, sunny position. The one situation it will not tolerate is boggy, waterlogged ground. In its natural habitat a spindle tree may live for over 100 years.
Once a very common hedgerow plant, a campaign of grubbing out in the 1970s has left it a rarity in the wild. The spindle tree was thought to harbour crop diseases and pests, especially black bean aphid, which is a major pest of vegetable crops. There was little evidence that euonymus was a truly significant threat to farming.
Now the native plant is spreading in gardens, where it is an easy-to-grow, highly ornamental shrub.
Where to grow in the garden
Ideally, spindle trees are grown where there is an unobstructed view of them in winter. The centre of an island bed is a good location, where its summer foliage offers a useful green foil for tall flowering herbaceous perennials. A winter border with bright-stemmed winter dogwoods Cornus alba, Cornus sericea and Cornus sanguinea is another good site.
There are over 170 species of euonymus around the world but just a handful make suitable garden plants. Euonymus europaeus prefers alkaline soils, but will also grow well in neutral or slightly acidic ground as long as the soil is free-draining.
It is one of the easiest shrubs to maintain, growing in full sun, part shade, sheltered or exposed situations. It is a tough plant that can be used to provide a windbreak, particularly when grown with other wind-tolerant trees such as hawthorn and dog roses. With its abundant food, it is an excellent choice for a wildlife or nature garden.
‘Red Cascade’ is one of the best cultivars of E. europaeus for the garden. Its colour and fruit has earned it an Award of Garden Merit from the Royal Horticultural Society.
Euonymus planipes is another good spindle tree for the garden. Displaying some of the most dramatic winter colour, it grows to 10ft (3m) high. With pinnate leaves reminiscent of an ash tree, it has a vase-like shape that spreads upwards and outwards from a narrow base.
Euonymus alatus ‘Compactus’ is an ideal shrub for less spacious gardens, reaching only 3½ft (1m) in height. With the same distinctive winged wood as the larger E. alatus, it makes an attractive, smaller sculptural winter plant.
Spindle trees need little work. They form a naturally balanced and well branching framework. Little pruning is required, removing only dead, diseased or crossing and rubbing branches, or branches that are growing in an awkward place. Any pruning is done in late winter or early spring before weeding around the base. The tree will then benefit from a mulch of well-rotted garden compost.
The spindle tree is a fascinating plant, valued for its unique aesthetic qualities, wildlife-friendly properties and its many practical uses. It deserves a home in British gardens where the bright fruits and colouring leaves welcome the changing of the seasons and feed hungry birds.
Words: Melissa Mabbit Photography: Alamy