Lord Ellesmere’s Rhubarb

My grandmother, Margaret Collins, in later life married a widower, Tom Freeman.  Mr Freeman in his early years had been a farrier working on the estate in Worsley, serving the family and the traffic on the Bridgewater canal.  Surprisingly, according to the census, he lived at the Packet House. In old age he retained his strong frame and active mind although all his inner strength had dissipated. He was confined to a chair by the fire and never left the house.  In addition to horses he also loved gardening and it was sad to see his Monton garden becoming overgrown; in fact the only recognisable plants were self seeded sycamores and a patch of rhubarb.  Not just any rhubarb, however, Tom had transferred it from the estate in Worsley to his own back garden over 50 years before.  He had nurtured the crowns (probably with horse manure) because this was not just any rhubarb, ‘this was Lord Ellesmere’s rhubarb’.

Sadly Tom died and a few years later Margaret became so ill that she had to come and live with my parents.  She had few possessions or worldly worries but she did fret about what would become of the rhubarb.  To put her mind at rest before she died my father dug up the crowns and transferred them to our house in Eccles.  For good measure I transplanted a six foot sycamore seedling (why?) – both struck.

My father died in 1975 and my mother decided to move from Eccles.  The burning question was raised again – what would become of Lord Ellesmere’s rhubarb? Well the crowns transferred to the fertile soil of Irlam where Noreen and I then lived.  Ten years, and four children, later we moved to Monton and, of course, the rhubarb came (home) too.  I decided, as it has now been in the family for over 100 years, that Lord Ellesmere’s rhubarb was worthy of a photo; before being cut and cubed for Noreen’s classic crumble or jars of ginger and rhubarb preserve.  Listen for the screams.