When asked if I had room for a new client, I explained that regretfully I was “full up”. When I was told that the garden was situated in Exmoor National Park and hadn’t been touched except by chainsaw and strimmer for 6 years, I conceded that it would do no harm to take a look, with the intention of putting it on my reserve list. When I visited on a clearest blue day, driving past black-eyed sheep ducking under gates, across a shamelessly idyllic ford, up snowdrop edged hills ominously signed “check your brakes”, down skinny lanes to a place just past “the back of beyond”, I began to wonder if with a little juggling I could perhaps fit them in once a month. When I was shown around the neglected site, eyes darting from mature magnolias to fragrant Viburnum bodnantense, Japanese acers and ancient fruit trees, extra oil had been liberally applied to the already slippery slope. When I was told that the cherry tree shown above is known as The Magic Tree, I took out my diary and booked them in. When I learned that this is because it is the only place you can get a phone signal, the dye was well and truly cast.