My parents were compulsive members of the National Trust. Most weekends from April to October my father, mother, older brother and sister and I would drive across the English countryside in our red Datsun 120Y with a picnic and visit a National Trust property.
As far as I was concerned, the best bit was the tearoom. The thought of a large scone with jam (I think my parents considered cream a bit too indulgent) or a massive ice cream, or maybe a slice of delicious home-made cake and a big pot of tea was what kept me going through the dreary trudge through room after room full of dusty old junk.
I also loved the gardens, the chance to roll down a grassy slope, tear around a folly in the opposite direction to my brother or sister yelling “bleargh!” whenever we met, or gaze at goldfish in an ornamental pond. Our garden at home was decorative but more of a courtyard with a pocket handkerchief of sparse lawn, so the chance to rush around in a wide open space and race with people who would give me a chance, was much prized.
But somehow, through those dreary trudges, I must have learned something, taken something on board. The histories of the lords and ladies who lived and laughed and danced and died in these halls and dining rooms and ball rooms. The servants who prepared the pheasants and the pies and the jams and the jellies in the great copper pots and decorative moulds. And the volunteers who stood about and told us all about it. Somehow it all sank in.
And so, one year on holiday in Dorset, when my son was small, I sat in the grounds of Kingston Lacey in Dorset enjoying a rare moment to myself and filling copious pages of a large notebook with the story of Guy, Seb and Alice. And that notebook went into a deep drawer and surfaced fifteen years later so of course it was right and proper that Kingston Lacey should be an inspiration for Tillingford Hall.
But not the only one. Although I refer to Tillingford Hall as being ‘Queen Ann’ this is actually a very limited span of time (technically 1702-1714, about fifty years after Kingston Lacey was built) although there are houses built either side of that time which are referred to as ‘Queen Ann’ due to their style. The modest town house in which I grew up was built during this period. Finchcocks near Goudhurst in Kent, which for many years was a music museum run by the pianist Richard Burnett and his wife Katrina, and where I spent a very formative week volunteering when I was sixteen was also in this style, although it wasn’t finished until 1725.
Marble Hill House, a mile from where I grew up and formed the backdrop of many a teenage fantasy of mine, was also built at this time, so although both these houses are technically Georgian, they are still of roughly the right period and definitely the right look.
I recently visited Tredegar House near Newport in Wales for the first time this summer and I loved the details on the windows, and felt I had to include this on the façade of Tillingford Hall. I was thrilled when Sajeela, my talented designer, also picked up the detail in her fabulous vector rendition of the hall – definitely above and beyond the call of duty, but a lovely touch, nonetheless.
The Queen Ann style was revived in the late 19th Century and features in several houses in the area where I now live as well as much of my Cambridge College, Newnham.
So it’s not hard to see why I felt Tillingford Hall would be built around this time. I’m only sorry I can’t take you on a real, live tour, but hopefully my words will transport you there. And, who knows, with the wonders of AI and VR maybe you’ll be able to visit it in the comfort of your own home before too long.
Comentarios