African Viole(n)ts!

Years and years ago, when I was a student at Loughboro, the uni colour was African Violet. I lived in halls and wanted to brighten my room. So I bought an African Violet and sat it on my window sill. So far so good.

But 18-year-olds aren't the best keepers of houseplants. For starters, to keep a plant healthy, you have to remember to water it. Hmm. I didn't. And then this room had an amazing device: curtains that opened and closed at the pull of a cord. Whoosh! 18-year-olds don't usually have a sensitive touch, so my African Violet flew off the window-sill and spilled so much soil its bare roots were exposed. Even after being picked up, and having the dusty soil shovelled back into its pot, it didn't look too happy.

Now another thing that students have is A4 binder-files - and they get pretty heavy when full of paper. So if the student moves her plant on to her desk in a brief fit of aesthetic domesticity, it's not going to be a happy African Violet when said A4 binders come crashing down on its head, crushing most of its leaves.

By Christmas my plant pot contained one sad and sorry stem with maybe five or six damaged greyish leaves attached to it. At this point I took it home to its granddad. My father had green fingers and agreed to try and restore it to its former glory.

By the time I went home again (probably Easter time) my father led me to the lounge window-sill. "Recognise that?" he asked. There was my African Violet, repotted, in full leaf and covered in flowers and buds that promised more. Wow-ee! I declined his offer to have it return to Loughboro with me after the holidays.

A few months later - and still years later - my father had a whole row of thriving African Violets, as he took some soft leaf cuttings. (Very easy and successful, I now know since, in my maturer years, I've often done the same myself.)

So, to bring this long tale to a swift close: what you see here are three healthy African Violets, all of which stem from that one unfortunate that I bought over 40 years ago. (And they remind me daily of what a kind father I had.) Don't you love a story with a happy ending?