The Christie Garden of Hope

Friday 19 December 2025

It is the last Friday before Christmas, which in these parts mean it’s ‘Mad Friday’! And, as I meet a friend for festive drinks, the city centre is certainly starting to liven up.

In the steamy Christmas Market cabins, glasses of Gluhwein and tankards of beer lubricate the larynxes for many a rowdy rendition of ‘Last Christmas, I gave you my heart…‘ and ‘… the boys of the NYPD choir were singing Galway Bay...’. Other bars are equally a-buzz of business and many shops are cashing in on a flurry of late night shoppers.

But then we turn a corner…into Manchester’s St John’s Gardens on Lower Byrom Street.

All is suddenly calm, gentle classical music floats in the air and a magical sight lies before us. A sea of illuminated roses, most white and some blue, cluster together and cover the gardens in every direction. We appear to have stumbled across somewhere very special; it is just stunning and completely stops us in our tracks.

What is this place?

We learn that it is The Christie Charity Garden of Hope, a beautiful immersive light installation made up of hundreds of pre-lit white roses — each one displaying a message of love and hope dedicated to someone special.

Its aim is to raise vital funds for The Christie Charity, supporting their lifesaving and life-changing work for people affected by cancer and, what a beautiful way to do this, creating a collective tribute of light and love to brighten the festive season. We take a while to wander, reflect and, for now, be thankful.

As we leave this perfect space, it is quickly back into the hurly burly of Mad Friday and I enjoy this too! But it is the peace and beauty of the Garden of Hope, that stays with me long after our final drink is poured and a last chorus of ‘Fairy Tale of New York‘ is sung…..

Flowers…

Sunday 25 April 2021

Flower,  they have become my weekly treat

It all began in Lockdown 1. As people, fearful to leave the covid-safety of their home and fortress, flocked to sign up for online grocery shopping, I, a confirmed devotee of the doorstep delivery was forced off the schedule for the first time in about 10 years.  Yes a decade of  whipping through the weekly food shop with a swift half hour of laptop clicks from the sofa … came to an abrupt end. It was simply impossible to get a slot unless I could foresee fluctuations in the food cupboard at least a fortnight in advance.  So it was farewell to the time-saving lifeline my brother had signed me up for the week I became a single parent, and … hello to the supermarket shelves once more.

Was it terrible? Can I be frank; it really wasn’t. Let’s face it, there wasn’t much else to do! But, as I was often the only person to leave our house for an entire week, I found myself feeling duty bound to return to the homestead with treats to boost morale. We stocked up on alcohol, we groaned under the weight of endless snacks and I bought flowers. And long after, the unhealthy options have dwindled away the beautiful blooms have stayed, because…who doesn’t love flowers?

Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, Monet’s Water Lilies, O’Keeffe’s White Iris; artists have been drawn to the beauty and evocative qualities of flowers for centuries. In poetry Wordsworth immortalised the daffodil and the poppies of Flander’s Field, so fragile yet so resilient, are honoured as our symbol of remembrance in John McCrae’s poignant verse. Flowers are woven into popular culture too, from the ‘Flower Power’ of the 1960’s to  Portugal’s Carnation Revolution; today, in fact, marks the anniversary, in 1974, of the peaceful overthrow of the Estado Novo dictatorship, where carnations, placed into soldiers’ rifles became the enduring image of the movement.

As I wander happily around Tesco’s flowery displays however, I think I am mostly drawn in by my own fond memories of flowers? As gifts go, they are hard to beat! Its is many years since I turned eighteen and I do struggle to remember much about the day, but I can still picture my boyfriend appearing at the door with a bouquet of 18 red carnations. I know that I got married with white roses. The flowers on my desk the Monday morning after I dropped my eldest child off at university made me smile .. and made me cry. Because, of course, flowers are beautiful and it is undeniable that bringing the loveliness of the natural world into our home never fails to lift the mood or brighten the room.  But I think flowers are even more than that. They say , ‘you’re special‘  ;  they say ‘I’m thinking of you‘ ;  they say ‘you matter‘.

And, during the craziness of this pandemic,  that’s a message it’s been important to being home every week from my trip to the Tesco aisles. In fact, even as we thankfully start to return to normal,  I think I might hold onto our new floral tradition. A lovely lasting legacy of this strangest of covid-years…