Farewell to France

I HAVE spent the past 14 years living, for as much as the tax laws allow, in an unfashionable corner of Normandy. Why?

Well, largely because I wanted to garden in a mild climate with fertile soil in which I could grow acid-loving plants. My long-suffering wife pleaded caution, but eventually acquiesced: she likes camellias. And almost all our married life had been spent in areas of chalk upland.

I grew up in a woodland garden, where we planted rhododendrons, azaleas, camellias