Episode 65: The One Where We Had 9 Months to Raise £450k

NOTE: This is the transcript from the original recording, rather than the edited episode so timings may vary.

Victoria (00:01)

Hello and welcome to this solo episode of the Mum Means Business podcast. Recently I’ve become aware of a flurry of fundraisers going on around me for projects that are so worthwhile and so important. A couple of which I felt able to support and most of which I’ve only felt able to cheer from the sidelines. But it got me thinking about that time we had nine months to raise almost half a million pounds for a project that was very close to my heart. And it inspired me to share the story because I learned a lot in this process about realising a wild idea.

A couple of weeks ago I visited the D-Day 75 garden, which was a project that pretty much took over my life in 2018 and 2019. I posted about it on Instagram at the time and I had a few DMs from people asking about it because it’s pretty left field from the stuff I generally talk about now. It was a different chapter in my life, before COVID, before kids. Chris and I actually met when I was in the thick of fundraising and on reflection I’m so glad, because he got to see it all come to fruition and be part of it in his own way. Also, whenever he lays any indelicate criticism at my door for being like a bull in a china shop and never sitting still, always with one project or another going on, I feel quite justified reminding him that that was very much the version of me he opted into in the first instance, because the D-Day 75 garden project was full on, to say the least.

So a bit of backstory to set the scene. After 11 years of taking veterans to Normandy to commemorate the anniversary of D-Day, my dad and I had decided that the 75th anniversary in 2019 would be the final swan song. The youngest Normandy veteran was 92 or 93 and the eldest was over 100, and it was getting increasingly difficult for them to make the journey.

I wanted to do something to mark what would be the final milestone anniversary with any significant number of veterans there to tell their story. I wanted to celebrate them on home soil. It was always so heartwarming to see these elderly men and women welcomed and treasured by the people of Normandy. The veterans would be lavished in gratitude and appreciation and left France feeling like literal legends. They felt so appreciated for all that they had endured, sacrificed and suffered during the war, and rightly so.

Having sat and talked with hundreds of veterans for over a decade and heard their stories, I couldn’t help but be moved by the things that they had seen and the trauma they had felt as young adults in a very analogue world where many of them hadn’t travelled more than 10 miles from home before the war broke out. I remember one veteran’s son phoning us a week or so after we’d returned home to tell us his father was quite bemused that nobody was asking for his autograph in Aldi.

And this didn’t sit right with me, because aside from remembrance once a year, many of these veterans went unnoticed and unrecognised. I understand that in this country we haven’t experienced occupation since the aftermath of 1066 and so we just can’t understand what it meant to be liberated back in 1944 and 1945. Give a society a thousand years of freedom and of course they’re going to take it for granted. I also understand that time marches on and these veterans were now elderly and frail, but I felt that that made it all the more important to make a fuss of them and give people opportunities to hear their stories firsthand while they were still here to tell them.

For us, the charity had always been about just this, recognising the extraordinary things these ordinary men and women were called to do. To leave their homes and play their part in battle after battle at sea, in the air or on the ground to literally save the world.

It was during the 74th anniversary trip to France in 2018 that I began tumbling ideas of ways we could tell the story of D-Day in the UK and create a focal point to prompt conversation and curiosity across generations and within families. And if you’ve followed me or this podcast for a while, you might know that I am also a very enthusiastic gardener. So one of those ideas, perhaps a bit selfishly, was to create a commemorative show garden at RHS Chelsea in 2019. I knew the timing would be perfect. Chelsea would fall a couple of weeks before the 75th anniversary of D-Day and so it would be a really fitting prelude which would surely pick up media attention.

I ran the idea by my parents and I remember sharing it with the daughters of my favourite veteran duo. Everyone was very enthusiastic in a nice idea but it’ll never happen sort of way. But I couldn’t shake it. As soon as I got home I was researching. I sent an email to the RHS explaining my idea and I’m so glad I did because it turned out the entry deadline was the end of June that year, just a couple of weeks away. I think they could tell I was clueless, but I had the kudos of an established charity behind me so they took me seriously. If I remember rightly they suggested three gardeners that we might work with.

To be clear, even 11 years in, at that point the we were still just me and my dad. After a few email exchanges, one of those gardeners came to see us in what was then a really dilapidated office space, as old as the veterans themselves and in urgent need of TLC, which it later got when we renovated during COVID. Thinking back, I can only imagine the first impression we made. All enthusiasm and no idea what to do with it. Much like when we started the charity back in 2009, we were totally green. Nevertheless, John Everiss must have liked us because he said yes when we asked him if he would take the project on.

The only pretty enormous problem was that we didn’t have two pennies to rub together. At that point I think John estimated the garden would cost around £450,000, which left us speechless. I told you we were green. We had no idea what these show gardens cost. I think John sensed our despair because he set up a meeting with a contact of his called Peter Deaman. When I think back to first impressions, I can’t help but smile. Peter, John and I met in a pub out in Cheshire somewhere and Peter was, and still is, relentlessly polished in his presentation. Immaculate. Like you could see your reflection in his shoes. And at that point I was, and still am, not. But we talked and he must have seen something in it because he joined us in the mission to find £450,000 in nine months. And thank God, because honestly, it wouldn’t have happened without him.

I had no idea at that point, but there would be times when Peter and I would speak four, five, six times a day. If I was a bull in a china shop, he was a dog with a bone and he worked tirelessly to bring the D-Day 75 garden project to life. We would get together and brainstorm marketing ideas. I’ll always remember the moment we came up with the 75 Reasons campaign because so often, and this applies to business too, you’re testing and tumbling and trying to find the solution to a problem but you just can’t reach it and it feels so frustrating. Then one day, bang, you’re in conversation and someone says something interesting. Then you build on it and build on it between you, each adding your own piece to the puzzle, and it all starts to fall into place.

This campaign was essentially a poster which headlined with 75 reasons to thank our D-Day veterans. And then underneath it said, at the Royal Hospital Chelsea during the RHS Chelsea Flower Show 2019. Beneath this were 75 portraits I had taken of Normandy veterans holding a photograph of themselves during the war, all captured on beautiful medium format film. I think when I came up with this idea I had around 60 in the bank, so I began making frantic appointments to photograph another 15 D-Day veterans, including Chelsea Pensioners in their bright red uniform coats, which popped off the page in the final poster. I still love looking at it, and especially now those veterans are no longer with us. It’s a collection of work that I’m really proud of, and I don’t always find that easy to say.

While all this was going on, John was designing the garden itself and his concept was beautiful and poignant and perfect. Part of the brief was that we wanted this garden to be something we could invite veterans to actively engage with and even somehow be a part of. I really wanted to invite 75 veterans to London so they could be front and centre and truly feel the appreciation and gratitude of their own people.

John’s answer was to design a garden that reflected its moment in time, 75 years after D-Day itself. His idea was to depict a scene where an elderly veteran is reflecting back on the version of himself who stormed the beaches of Normandy on the 6th of June 1944, almost having a conversation with himself 75 years on. Opposite him would be an ethereal figure of himself as a young man, constructed from thousands of individually welded metal washers, pausing as waves break on the beach through a series of Corten steel angled posts designed to represent Rommel’s asparagus, which was placed there to ensnare landing craft.

Beyond this sculpture, a further 15 stone plinths would stretch out towards the Royal Hospital Chelsea, where veterans could be invited to sit and reflect. Here they would be surrounded by a carpet of 10,000 sea thrift, which would have been seen by the troops as they embarked along the south coast of England and again as they pushed inland off the Normandy beaches.

So we needed to choose a veteran to represent all Normandy veterans, and their likeness would be hand sculpted in millstone grit. Earlier I mentioned that I had a favourite veteran duo. One was of Italian heritage and almost as immaculate as Peter. Had there been a best dressed veteran award, he’d have won it every time. The other was of Welsh heritage, scruffy and witty and wonderful in a different way. The two of them had met for the first time on one of our trips and hit it off straight away, as did their daughters. Joe Cattini and Bill Pendell became thick as thieves and the perfect yin and yang.

By 2018, Joe, being so beautifully presented, was already one of the most photographed World War II veterans on the planet. Bill, on the contrary, was never one to seek the camera’s attention. Bill, however, had an incredible war story, which I won’t go into now but I will pop a link in the show notes in case you fancy a read. We all agreed Bill should be the protagonist of the garden.

So we had a garden design and we had our message nailed down, but it was 2019 and we needed a short video to tell the story. In comes a videographer called Keith Craig and we start thinking about what this first video needs to say to convey the message to potential sponsors. To put this into context, it was a world before Reels. Video was still a mysterious and professional endeavour and I had no idea how to be in front of a camera. As the co-founder of the charity and the originator of the idea, it was decided that I was best placed to speak about the project, which I get. But wow, looking back, I was rubbish. I would reel off a big articulate spiel about the project, our why and a nice call to action at the end in practice. But as soon as that camera turned on, I was awkward as hell. I still find it difficult watching those promotional videos back. But I did it and I did it as best as I could at the time with no experience or training, because I knew it had to be done in order to raise the money we now so desperately needed.

Once we had this marketing campaign ready to roll, Peter could run with it. He began opening doors I could never have opened. He got us meetings with high flyers, secured donations from M&S, Ineos, P&G, Citibank, Molson Coors, Deloitte and so many more. We were in constant communication for months, tumbling ideas and updating each other on potential leads. The work was relentless but it was also really exciting. The whole time there was this jeopardy hanging over us and at no stage did we feel like we had it in the bag. There was no one big sponsor who came in and washed all our problems away. We were seeking 75 sponsors to give five grand and we had a GoFundMe campaign asking for donations to try and make up the rest. It was really tough going as fundraising always is.

But I learned so much during that process. Like everything before you’ve experienced it, fundraising had felt like a great big mystery that only trained and experienced professionals with inside knowledge would or should pursue. But at the end of this long story, I want to tell you that there is no mystery. The trick is to ask.

You can be clever about it and research the companies or high net worth individuals who have some connection to your cause, and of course that helps. But even then, the skill is in the ask. I remember the first time I heard Peter’s elevator pitch about the project and I was completely blown away. He was articulate, respectful of the other person’s time, passionate without being overbearing and urgent without being pushy. That was his skill, honed over years. He knew how to deliver his message and spike someone’s interest in less than 30 seconds. And honestly, I was as much in awe the 20th time I heard him do it as I was the first. I’ll forever be grateful to Peter for his support on this project and for showing me how to have courage and ask.

The £450,000 budget had included the build, the garden’s relocation to Normandy after the Chelsea Flower Show, which was really important to us, and also the accommodation, travel and hospitality for 75 veterans, their companions and essential medical support and volunteers on site during the show. And I can tell you we were still fundraising on the garden itself during the show because we didn’t yet have enough money to get the garden to France. We even sold the handcrafted sea thrifts that were dotted through the flower lawn on the final day for five pounds each, and people bought them because they got it. They had been so moved seeing the veterans sitting on those stone plinths in front of one of the oldest military buildings in the UK. They got what the garden was all about and they wanted to give something back.

I remember looking around as people bought these flowers that were really not worth a fiver, and I was feeling quite moved myself because I realised that we had done it. We had achieved what we had set out to achieve and created a focal point around which the Normandy veterans could be celebrated on home soil before they made what for many would be their final journey to France to commemorate the anniversary of D-Day.

Sadly, Bill Pendell had passed away aged 97 in December 2018 and so he never got to see the finished garden. When we lost him, it really called into focus the diminishing time we had left with our wartime generation, and it motivated us to keep going and make this garden a reality in his memory. And it is just that. Joe Cattini was there to represent the best friend he had made in the final years of his life and was photographed copiously and quite rightly alongside the garden.

During the Chelsea Flower Show, the garden was included in the BBC coverage. It was featured on Good Morning Britain, various radio stations and in print press. It was visited by Their Royal Highnesses William and Catherine, then Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, and the Duchess of Wessex. All sorts of celebrities, gardening and otherwise, came along on press day for a tour. But what really landed with me were the conversations we heard the garden spark between onlookers. Children asking questions of their parents, couples sharing stories of what their own grandparents had done during the war, and visitors interacting with the veterans themselves, showing curiosity about their experiences while the veterans were able to share their stories with a wider audience who really had time to listen.

With any project there are ripples that can’t be measured. You create something from nothing and you can never fully know the value you’ve added. We did manage to move the garden to a beautiful location in Arromanches, Normandy, overlooking Gold Beach. We officially opened it on the 75th anniversary of D-Day itself, 6th of June 2019, in the company of the men and women who had been there.

Seeing it seven years on, still there and very well maintained by the French community to whom it now belongs, was bittersweet. It felt so quiet in comparison to that big opening day and for me the town was full of ghosts. But when we walked up to it at around 8pm on a Saturday evening, there were people there, reading the story of Bill Pendell and admiring the statues that frame the sunset view of the broken Mulberry Harbour in the sea below. How many conversations might the garden have sparked in the seven years that it has sat in this spot? How many might it spark in its lifetime? I like thinking about it like that.

If you made it this far in the story, well done, because that felt like a lot. But I suppose the reason I wanted to tell it is because I want you to know that you can do extraordinary things with the right people in your corner. You can have mad ideas that nobody expects to come to fruition and you can make them happen. You can look at what seems to be an impossible sum of money and you can find it. You can be brave and ask for what you need to make your dream a reality.

If you have an idea or a project that won’t leave you alone, then I hope this has been helpful and given you some encouragement to explore it. Please come and tell me about it, or share any thoughts this monologue has sparked. You’ll find me on Instagram at @mummeansbusinesspodcast or @victoriaphippsmbe. Feel free to slide into my DMs. I would love to hear from you and I will speak to you soon.