Running a nursery is tough, but it can be a great thrill, says Caroline Beck
(Photography by Christine Boyd)

I generally hate shopping, but from early spring until about June I am known to wander off, much to the consternation of my family, and drive halfway across the country in pursuit of small nurseries selling desirable plants. But although these places are plant heaven for the gardener, what is it like to actually run one?

Jan Wilson and Colin Brown own Beamish Clematis Nursery in County Durham, which has more than 350 varieties of clematis and an exciting selection of unusual shrubs and herbaceous plants.

They've been in business for just over 15 years, and although they modestly describe themselves as "dinosaurs", their business is thriving, and is typical of many specialist nurseries.

When Colin started in 1987, he didn't even know what a clematis was. He was working as an. environmental health officer for the local authority and had a 40ft- long Dutch-style greenhouse, which housed his daughter's swing and a. washing line, in his garden. He was approached by Tom Bennett - later president of the British Clematis Society - who was looking for a home for about 300 different clematis. It was meant to be just a part-time venture, but within a year Colin was working in his greenhouse full-time and had bought Tom out. Jan, who was an art teacher, came along in 1992 and brought with her a love of rare shrubs and a commercial savvy that, she insists, is based on instinct rather than a balance sheet.

Sounds simple? Don't be fooled. Establishing a nursery from scratch is a costly business, even if you already own the land. Putting in services such as electricity won't leave much change from £20,000. For polytunnels and propagation equipment add another £20,000. Then you need to think about stock. If you buy in plants, £20,000 will purchase a respectable stock list, but if you propagate them yourself it can be two years before you have anything big enough to sell. What happens if whitefly wipes out all your assets? Then there's theft, and not always of the human variety. Mice chew through your plants and magpies pinch all the plant labels. And which other profession, apart from farming, is so subject to the vagaries of the British weather?

Colin and Jan reckon that you need incredible discipline to run a nursery. "The finances are like being on a swing," says Colin. "In winter there are no sales and you can go for a month without selling anything. Then at the end of May there's so much money you don't know where to stuff it. We know nurserymen who have bought a big flash car and been forced to sell it when winter comes."

So if you get that far, what about marketing? There are no signs to Colin and Jan's nursery. This is a deliberate policy because it stops people coming in to ask for bedding plants. Their average customer travels 40 miles and will return again and again. It's easy to see why. Jan and Colin are friendly and knowledgeable - for them "customer service" is not something you learn on a training course. Customers become friends and you can always be sure of a cup of coffee while sizing up a Clematis 'Francis Rivis' in their polytunnel.

Colin thinks he must have been mad to have just launched into the nursery business, but says that 90 per cent of small nurseries are set up for emotional rather than commercial motives. It is certainly not a get-rich-quick venture. It can take three or four years just to break even, and even now, when they say their bank account is in the black, it is whispered with fingers crossed behind their backs. The thrill for Colin is running the business but for Jan it is the plants, and she thinks this is true for many nursery couples. "The men will go on about turnover and cash-flow where the women enthuse about what they're selling," she says. The worst thine about runnine a small nursery is the long hours - dawn until dusk seven days a week. "You can always tell when we're busy because we never get to eat a meal," says Jan.

The best aspect of the job is the complete independence and, says Jan, "the summer evenings when the birds are singing and it's just warm enough to be in tunnels doing cuttings - it's a thrill that never diminishes."

Colin Brown and Jan Wilson