Gnome Sequencing

I was watching a local news channel just a couple of weeks ago when a featured story was on a seafront café on the Lincolnshire Coast where people could leave their Garden Gnome ornaments for the duration of their own holidays at the coast. 

The short broadcast showed the café proprietor arranging visiting gnomes on a sort of terraced display and with a member of staff refreshing the paint finishes as part of the vacation package. 

I suspect that a good proportion of the concrete and plaster figures were not so much temporary guests but permanent fixtures with many members of the public taking this golden opportunity to get rid/donate/give up their figurines for good. 

At one time a seated and ideally angling or pipe smoking garden gnome was the epitome of acceptable bad taste, kitsch, tat, rebellion and off beat humour and one or more will have taken up residence in a prominent position in a front or rear garden, rockery or flower bed to be admired and commented upon by family, friends, relatives and passers-by. 

However, at some point they fell irrevocably out of fashion. 

I cannot say when or why that was but contributing factors will have been the trend of smaller gardens on new housing estates, a move towards uncluttered spaces, decking and paving over of former lawns and borders, the rise of planters rather than a more formal arrangement and landscaping programmes where nautical or other themes sounded the death knell for the good old ornament. 

My own family has, at one time or another, had resident gnomes. My maternal grandfather had one which was passed down through successive generations. 

A popular gift for creative youngsters used to be a flexible rubberised mould and a bag of Plaster of Paris by which a gnome or other rural or woodland creature could be formed and painted up for display in the garden. 

I still see them for sale in a far corner of my frequented Garden Centre or where they still have an affinity which is strangely, in a seaside emporium amongst the buckets and spades, plastic windmills, wind breaks and kites. 

There must be a huge warehouse somewhere in the UK dedicated to aisle upon aisle stockpiling of unpainted gnomes and a thriving import business of the things from factories in China and the Far East. Somehow these distant manufacturers must be receiving feedback that gnomes are still very much in demand from the British public and resources and labour are geared up accordingly. 

They may have witnessed a massive tailing off in demand however in recent years largely down to the passing of a prolific gnome collector.

Ron Broomfield, known as ‘Ron the Gnome’, began collecting the cheerful figures after he became depressed when a short marriage of four years broke down in his early 30s. His doctor recommended he take up a hobby for therapeutic purposes and he was later passing a shop that had gnomes in the front window and thought they looked cheerful.

He bought the gnomes, took them home and they kept smiling at him. After that, every time he saw a gnome he bought it and he would ask for gnomes as presents at Christmas and on birthdays.

His passion for all things gnome was taken further. When the children in his neighbourhood walked past his house they would remark that Ron’s beard made him look like a gnome and it was not long after that he began to dress like one too.

Over the next 50 years, he made gnomes his life. He not only collected gnomes but appeared to promote them on numerous TV programmes including The Alan Titchmarsh Show during which Ron presented the host with a look-a-like gnome. He also popped up on BBC’s The One Show and in newspapers. One of his ambitions was for his collection to be featured in the Guinness Book of Records but he was not able to surpass that of another avid enthusiast- The Gnome Reserve and Wild Flower Garden in North Devon.

Out of his passion and obsession Ron raised thousands of pounds for his favourite charity the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.

After retirement from working life the collection of gnomes, then around 700, moved with Ron to rural Lincolnshire and he named his home Gnome Cottage.

Amongst his vast collection Ron had a favourite gnome called Sandy. He took him everywhere with him including to work and on holiday and he wrote a book with pictures of Sandy’s travels.

After passing in 2015 Ron was cremated dressed in his gnome outfit complete with pointed hat and waistcoat. 

The lifetime collection which had swelled to 1800 gnomes was then sold at auction. In July 2015 a local saleroom was packed with many buyers looking to acquire either single gnomes or group lots from the impressive collection.Whilst there were some individual lots making £40 to £80, there were many group lots of ‘gnominal’ value with the residual items selling for a few pounds. 

Once all the lots were added up, the gross total for the sale of the collection which went to a local charity was just over £1600. 

Everything went in an expression of respect and fondness for the kindly and eccentric human gnome. Unfortunately that event is likely to have been the equivalent of peak-oil to garden gnomes and they now sadly seem destined to that seaside mausoleum or landfill.