Both were well reviewed and both won international prizes. One of them was translated into seven languages and, rather more importantly for an author, still earns welcome royalties. The international editions were pre-sold at the Frankfurt Book Fair, which meant that I had to include roses in all the markets where the book would be published. Rose lovers are famously nationalistic-it is difficult to persuade Frenchmen that some of the best roses are bred by Englishmen-and so, with the backing of a generous advance, I set off to study and write about roses all over the world.
My travels took me on my first visit to Australia, where I was surprised to discover that roses grow much better than anywhere else. The heat means that the bushes grow taller and more vigorously than they do back home, and the dry climate keeps them free from mildew and blackspot. By the time I had finished writing the book, I had realised that, in the English climate, many roses are at the limits of their cultivability. Yes, we have gardens where roses are very well grown-three that I greatly admire are Queen Mary's rose garden in Regent's Park in London, David Austin's show garden near Wolverhampton and the National Trust's collection of roses assembled by Graham Stuart Thomas at Mottisfont Abbey in Hampshire. But once you have seen the roses at Werribee near Melbourne or the plants in every suburban garden in Adelaide, you have to concede that rose-growing is something that the Aussies do better than us.
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