The Sunday Times - UK (2022-04-10)

The Sunday Times April 10, 2022 23

NEWS REVIEW

It’s crop secret:

covert garden

centre saving

our rare plants

S

torm Arwen left a trail

of destruction when it

swept through the

country last November,

and some places are still

struggling with the aftermath.

At the gardens at Bodnant,

in the Conwy valley in north

Wales, owned by the National

Trust, the impact has been

catastrophic. Fifty ancient

trees were uprooted,

including vast coast

redwoods.

Even worse, many of the

rare magnolias and

rhododendrons, which were

first planted several hundred

years ago, were crushed.

It could have been the end

of the road for these plants,

including the original

Rhododendron

hunnewellianum, which was

carried back here by the

“plant hunter” Ernest Wilson

from China in the early 20th

century. But not if the

National Trust’s

horticulturalists at its

secretive Plant Conservation

Centre can help it.

Ever since the storm

ravaged the gardens, they

have had experts on site,

collecting the buds from the

damaged plants for

micropropagation, a process

in which minute pieces of

plant tissue are taken from

the original plant and grown

under laboratory conditions

to create a new genetic clone

(seeds do not produce exactly

the same plant). The resulting

plantlets will then be

“weaned” by the Plant

Conservation Centre in

Devon. It is one of the few

parts of the trust that is

closed to the public, and its

exact location is a carefully

guarded secret. Though few

people know about it, the

centre this year (quietly)

celebrates its 40th

anniversary.

“The trust has a textile

conservation studio, and a

furniture and paintings one;

we do the same thing for the

living collection,” says Chris

Trimmer, the centre’s

manager and head

propagator. The facility is

halfway between a garden

centre and a lab. Visitors

must disinfect their hands

and shoes before they enter.

Inside there are neatly

arranged pots of grafted trees

lined up on heated shelving.

In sci-fi-like hydroponic units,

seedlings grow without soil.

No plants are grown for

commercial gain here. The

sole purpose is to preserve

the rarest plants in the trust’s

collection. Within the maze of

glass houses there is a young

apple tree, a clone of the

same plant, at Woolsthorpe

Manor near Grantham in

Lincolnshire, which was said

to have inspired Sir Isaac

Newton to formulate his

theory of gravity in 1687. The

original plant is still alive, but

only just — it was blown down

in the 19th century, only to

reroot near by.

Climate change and

globalisation have enabled

the easy spread of pests and

diseases, creating a real

threat to the trust’s collection

of plants. “When

Phytophthora ramorum [a

deadly fungus-like pathogen]

came to this country 20 years

ago, they implemented a five-

metre kill zone around each

plant,” Trimmer says. That

means that if one plant is

found to have the disease,

every plant within five metres

needs to be killed to stop the

spread. More recent diseases

such as xylella, which has

destroyed olive trees across

Europe, would need a 100-

metre kill zone. “In one of our

smaller properties, that

would wipe out the entire

collection,” Trimmer says.

Trimmer shows me a pot of

narcissus so rare that there

are only ten bulbs left in the

world, and so sought after

that he won’t tell me its

name. Five of them are in a

pot in front of me.

The work of the centre is

part of a broader effort within

the National Trust to

catalogue and save for future

generations its plant species.

It also wants to make the

information more accessible

to the public through

interactive maps, storyboards

and other resources at trust

properties.

However, the connections

between slavery, Empire and

horticulture are likely to be

problematic for the trust.

There have already been

fierce rows over its so-called

“decolonising” of its country

homes. Gardens such as

those at Penrhyn Castle in

Wales, some of the finest in

Britain in the 19th century,

were built on the proceeds of

slavery. Some now see the

gallivanting “plant hunters”

as being guilty of theft.

“I think that the global

trade and colonialism aspect

around it is another layer to

the story,” says Alison Crook,

the curator of the trust’s

living plants collection.

“There’s lots of really positive

things around that as well,

because it fostered

relationships that are still

extant today. There are so

many botanic gardens

around the world that were

created as part of that and are

now helping to secure their

own native biodiversity.”

The fitzroya is a slow-

growing conifer that is now

rare in its native Chile due to

logging, grazing and fire —

and yet it grows happily in a

number of National Trust

properties. You can see it for

yourself at Cragside in

Northumberland and

Sheffield Park in East Sussex.

A clone of Newton’s apple tree is among

sensitive shrubs grown on a mysterious

National Trust site, says Rosie Kinchen

TEN GIRL GROUP

CLASSICS

lSpice Girls Wannabe

lSugababes Freak Like Me

lAll Saints Pure Shores

lAtomic Kitten Whole Again

lHoneyz Finally Found

lMis-Teeq Scandalous

lLittle Mix Shout Out to My Ex

lGirls Aloud Biology

lStooshe Black Heart

lEternal (featuring BeBe Winans)

I Wanna Be the Only One

open.spotify.com/user/thetimes

co. Streaming-service playlists and Tik-

Tok are arguably as manipulative as any-

thing Cowell, Waterman et al got up to

when they held the fate of new artists in

their hands. But they are also the new

shop windows for aspiring musicians —

the modern-day equivalent of the audi-

tions the Spice Girls attended, or the tal-

ent shows Girls Aloud and others com-

peted on. As the same label executive puts

it: “Get three TikTok influencers together

who can sing and have a great song, and

there isn’t a record label in the world that

wouldn’t sign them on the spot.”

Questions of authenticity, agency,

mental health and manipulation con-

tinue to hover over the marketing of new

acts, especially, perhaps, girl groups. Jesy

Nelson made an acclaimed documentary

in 2019 in which she discussed body

image and online bullying. Sarah Harding

of Girls Aloud, who died last year of

breast cancer, was routinely ridiculed

and chastised in the media for her bois-

terous, party-hard lifestyle (which would

surely have been cheered on and cele-

brated had she been a man).

The Spice Girls trumpeted girl power,

like the classic American girl groups of

the 1960s, but they alone among their

British peers had a genuine cultural

impact. The prurience and gleeful spite

exhibited on social media towards Nel-

son and others places them in a position

that is anything but powerful.

On the upside, increased scrutiny and

accountability have effected some wel-

come — and, you have to hope, enduring

— transformations. The toll taken on the

1980s American girl band the Go-Go’s is

detailed — hair-raisingly — in a new mem-

oir by the band’s bassist, Kathy Valentine.

Their free spirits were slowly crushed by

drugs, rancour, vanishing profits and

rampant exploitation. Could that happen

today? Possibly, though it’s arguably less

likely. The MeToo movement, the cam-

paign for fairer distribution of streaming

income, the prioritising of mental health

— all these are profoundly positive devel-

opments. The demise of The X Factor

might also be added to that list.

In this changed landscape, could a

new girl group still go stratospheric?

“Absolutely,” says Waterman, without

hesitation. “Why not? If three girls from a

school in, I don’t know, Birmingham, got

together, wrote a song and it went viral,

then boom, you’re off. And we’re back to

the Shangri-Las.”

But don’t people increasingly value

authenticity in music? “It’s about the

song, and only the song. Get that right,

and people will still go for it,” he says.

Waterman scoffs at the idea that it’s all

about record companies’ deep pockets

and a willingness to dip into them. “I’ve

heard all this stuff like, ‘It’s too expen-

sive.’ I signed Rick Astley for £500.”

H

eading out last week on what

fans fear will be their final

tour, the chart-topping,

Brits-winning girl band Little

Mix were keen to stress that

they’re having a break

rather than a break-up. A trio

since the dramatic and

decidedly messy departure

of Jesy Nelson in 2020, the

first group to win The X Factor, in 2011,

stuck rigidly to the party line.

But this didn’t stop followers and pop

commentators reading the last rites over

what some predict could be the final

incarnation of a time-honoured, cash-

cow pop format — one that stretches from

the late 1950s to, gasping and spluttering

and in urgent need of CPR, just about the

present day. Is it time to say RIP to the

girl group?

If there was a golden age of the British

girl group it began with Wannabe and the

Spice Girls in 1996 — but it has always

been more about fits and starts than con-

sistency. Bananarama had their first hit in

1982, but their success didn’t spawn a

new era of chart-topping rivals. All Saints

vied with the Spice Girls in the 1990s,

while Girls Aloud and Sugababes

bestrode the Noughties. In each case, a

host of other lesser groups — Eternal, Mis-

Teeq, Atomic Kitten, Honeyz and other

bands our grandchildren won’t be listen-

ing to — brought up the rear. So to call it a

golden age is questionable, but the fact

that Little Mix’s apparent demise leaves

British pop without a chart-topping girl

group is significant.

The pop colossus Pete Waterman,

who, with his songwriting partners Mike

Stock and Matt Aitken, ruled the charts in

the 1980s, when they steered the careers

wannabe

Little Mix, Britain’s

last remaining girl

group, are calling it

a day. A golden age,

or good riddance,

asks Dan Cairns

Why does nobody

a girl group

any more?

The formula works

— more than any

other formula in

the history of pop

of acts such as Bananarama, Kylie

Minogue, Mel and Kim and Rick Astley, is

both upbeat and pessimistic.

“Simon Cowell and I have this conver-

sation all the time,” he says. “We know

the formula works. More than any other

formula in the history of pop. All that’s

changed is the means of delivery.”

How new artists are marketed has

changed drastically. Record labels are

increasingly wary of betting the house on

a newcomer when the random nature of

TikTok and YouTube virality can upend a

campaign and leave labels with huge

losses. And groups with many members

often require greater investment.

Stooshe, a female trio from London,

had a top five single in 2012 with Black

Heart but, despite a marketing and devel-

opment bill rumoured to have been well

above £1 million, they failed to achieve

enduring success. It’s easier for labels to

identify a song that is picking up traction

online and simply buy it, off the peg.

“There is no significant artist develop-

ment here at all,” admits one executive at

a big label. “And it’s the same with our

American arm.”

The slow death of the TV talent show

has played its role, too. Music discovery

has moved on from the days of Cowell and

before you try to round the

corner, then steer!”

“Of course!” I yell back,

then try to do all three at once

and spin on to the grass. No

detail is overlooked: when I

rejoin the track there is grass

on my front wheels and I feel

the loss of traction. When I

finally make it to the second

lap, black tyre marks on the

tarmac are an embarrassing

reminder of the first.

Every curve and camber of

the world’s famous racetracks

is replicated to perfection:

the data is uploaded from a

van that drives over the real

thing with a laser scanner.

This allows drivers to repeat a

tricky section of track right

down to the smallest bump,

helping them shave

milliseconds off their time.

After failing to trouble

Hamilton’s lap record at

Silverstone — 1 minute 24

seconds — and before I

extricate myself from my

sweat-soaked seat, I go back

in time for one last lap. I

choose Silverstone in 1967,

when the grand prix was won

by a Briton, Jim Clark, in a

Lotus. I try a 1950s Maserati

250F and immediately feel

the difference. It heaves off

the start line, acceleration is

harder, the brakes have to be

slammed on sooner. The

wheel is out of control before

I’ve had a chance to yelp.

It’s been an F1 thrill. But I

won’t be trading in the Jazz

just yet.

Sport, page 13

by crane. Another ordered

one with a blue-and-orange

livery to match his vintage

car, and a third with the aim

of training his teenage son to

be a professional driver.

The simulator is

apparently a hit with

professional footballers, who

can’t risk their hyper-insured

legs behind the wheel of a

real car. “Normals” who want

a go should look out for the

simulator at motoring

festivals and expos — though

none is confirmed at present.

Could I pass myself off as a

track star? At first I hoped I

might look dignified, maybe

even cool. That ambition is

quickly scaled back to not

appearing idiotic, but even

that flies out of the window at

breakneck speed before the

first lap is over. Over the howl

of the engine, Roach shouts

tips on how to make it round

the track unscathed: “Brake

Madeleine Spence has a crack at the Silverstone lap record

first adapted for motor racing

ten years ago, a leading F1

team — Jon Roach, the chief

commercial officer of Axsim

(axsim.racing), won’t tell me

which one — bought a

simulator and its drivers have

been training on them ever

since. Having spent a decade

at Porsche, Roach joined

Axsim, Cranfield’s luxury

arm, three years ago and has

since taken the simulators,

perhaps predictably, into the

world of the ultra-wealthy.

Clients are exclusively

male, mostly tech

entrepreneurs, gadget lovers

and car fanatics. Some are

looking to fulfil boyhood

dreams, while others have

supercar collections that

come out of the garage only

once a year on track days, so

they drive them in the

simulator instead.

One customer had his

lowered into his Arizona villa

age — has been climbing:

women now make up 18 per

cent of viewers, compared

with 10 per cent in 2017.

Netflix’s fly-on-the wall F1 doc

Drive to Survive has been a

surprise hit with the ladies.

The Formula Simulator,

which is bouncing me around

in a hangar outside High

Wycombe, Buckinghamshire,

is helping me understand the

attraction of the sport in a

visceral way. Pneumatic

airbags in the seatbelts

inflate, replicating the G-force

of zooming around at high

speeds. A “yaw” platform

under the chassis means I feel

every accidental oversteer.

The seat shifts around and

punches my back, making my

lurching driving painful. The

suspension pitches and rolls

so I feel a real thud with every

skid into the barriers. The

steering wheel tugs and spins

through my fingers and I have

to stomp on the hydraulic

brake to stop. And breathe.

This super-real technology

was formulated to train

fighter pilots by Axsim’s

parent company, Cranfield

Aerospace, which has

supplied simulations of

Typhoons, Tornados and

Harriers to air forces all over

the world. It works with

Cranfield University, its army

of geeks, nerds and engineers

obsessing over the best way

to replicate sustained

G-force, acceleration and

speed without actually going

anywhere.

When the technology was

Nursery manager Chris Trimmer and propagator Juliette

Stubbington carrying a Greyia sutherlandii at the centre

Look, Lewis,

no wheels!

My 200mph

spin in F1 sim

Honda Jazz driver Madeleine Spence

feels the convincing G-force on the

world’s most realistic racing simulator

terrifyingly realistic. That is,

if this Honda Jazz driver who

rarely sees fifth gear is any

judge.

This year’s F1 season is

already under way — last year

108.7 million people tuned in

to watch Lewis Hamilton and

Max Verstappen duel in Abu

Dhabi in the controversial

championship-deciding race.

The battle continues at the

Australian Grand Prix today,

with Verstappen starting in

second position on the grid

and Hamilton in fifth. And the

female fan base of the sport —

one I’d thought of as a niche

interest for men of a certain

I

am prepared for the

deafening roar of the

engine. I am ready for the

Silverstone circuit hurtling

past me at 200mph. What I

am not expecting is the

almighty whack on my back

when I first hit the brakes,

and the power of the G-force

against my side when I try to

turn the corner.

This is my first ride in the

world’s most realistic

Formula One simulator, built

by the British firm Axsim.

And, although its £100,000

price tag means it’s destined

only for the spare rooms of

the rich, it’s a case of so far, so

From top, the Spice Girls, Little Mix,

Girls Aloud, Bananarama, bottom left,

Mis-Teeq, bottom right, Atomic Kitten

ADRIAN SHERRATT FOR THE SUNDAY TIMES

ADRIAN SHERRATT FOR THE SUNDAY TIMES

The National Trust has cloned the famous apple tree at

Isaac Newton’s home, Woolsthorpe Manor in Lincolnshire

ALAMY