Gentleman Provider-of-Ruins

My third monthly trip out of London for 2014 took place three long weeks ago, on the very first weekend of March, but I'm just getting around to writing about it now. I spent the weekend with a friend in Cambridge - the first day was spent in Cambridge itself and the immediate surrounds, while the second day entailed a trip out to Wimpole Hall.

This is the same friend who accompanied me to Sutton Hoo and we both took out National Trust membership there so we figured we'd make the most of it with another property. This one, however, entailed a short train trip from Cambridge and then a cycle ride. Fortunately Cambridgeshire is a flat county as we'd also done a lot of cycling the day before and I'm only an occasional weekend cyclist...

We were delighted to find our bikes matched the train

Upon arriving at Wimpole we got our energy back up with a cup of tea and a scone and then went exploring. We started out at the house but were both slightly underwhelmed by that experience. Yes, the grand country pile just wasn't right for us, darling.

But, in all seriousness, the period and style isn't the favourite of either of us and we found the experience a bit stuffy compared with our recent Sutton Hoo adventure. There were some wonderful spaces but it was a classic National Trust house with roped off rooms and a sense of moving rigidly through the set route. In fairness, this is somewhat fitting for a house of its type, as the eighteenth century saw the rise of country house tourism, where one would travel around to different manors, being met at each with a grand house designed with a definite sequence of rooms, through which one would move, admiring the collection of art and objects. And there was undoubtedly some fine architecture, art and objects at Wimpole:

The ceiling and lantern in the Soane room

I have a peculiar fondness for pineapples appearing in historic house settings

A stunning clock in the Soane room

Okay, it all looks wonderfully charming when I select out a few key photographs, and it was undeniably splendid in parts, but it just somewhat lacked atmosphere. (There was even a lady playing piano, like at Sutton Hoo, but it had a completely different vibe.) So, if that style of operating doesn't really do it for you then you want to at least learn something about the people who lived there, where their wealth came from, the trajectory of their fortune, and all that jazz. That's what gives these places a unique quality when they all have a similar look. Unfortunately, there wasn't much written interpretation, and sometimes you don't necessarily feel like having to ask the volunteers (as lovely as they are). So, I learnt a bit about the last inhabitants of the house but not much more about the generations before that, which was a shame.

Who is this lady? I'll never know...

Once out of the house, we went for a wander around the immediate grounds and the walled gardens. I do so love a walled garden, even when it isn't in bloom. It appeals to my longing to have a secret garden of my own one day.

The walled kitchen garden

The parterre

We then broke out from the genteel surrounds of the house and out into the wider estate to march our way up through the mud and the wintery landscape on a particular mission...

... The Gothick folly! For those who don't know, a folly is basically an architectural feature put in the landscape to look fabulous, but with no actual use. The quintessential folly is the ruinous folly - not actually the traces of a medieval building, as the wealthy estate owner would have us believe, but a structure deliberately built as a ready-made ruin. Unfortunately this fake ruin must now be in actual fact a true ruin, as it was fenced off with 'danger: do not enter' signs.

One of the things that I actually did learn when I was in the manor house was that the folly was built by Sanderson Miller, who was a 'gentleman architect' (that is, he wasn't formally trained as an architect, didn't need to work for money but he just kind of fancied giving it a go). It took something ridiculous like 25 years to complete due to stops and starts. By the time it was complete, fashions had moved on - not from follies entirely but from landmark follies such as this. Instead of being set up as a prominent feature in the landscape, the trend had changed to secret follies that one would stumble upon in one's exploration of the extensive estate. Oh well, it's still good, despite being unfashionable.

Upon later looking up Wimpole Hall in the relevant Pevsner guide (otherwise known as the architectural historian's bible), I came across the description of Sanderson Miller as 'the celebrated gentleman provider-of-ruins'. Don't you just love that? I can totally see him as this charming dandy who not only designs follies for the gentry but also ruins the virtue of the young daughters of his clients when he comes to visit... And just let me clarify that is my concept for a bodice-ripper and if I come across anyone using my idea, I will sue.

Wakehurst Winter (Love Letter from West Sussex)

I woke up at an unexpectedly decent hour on Saturday to unusually blue skies. With the whole day ahead of me and the advantage of clement weather, I decided spontaneously to go on an adventure to Wakehurst Gardens in Sussex. However, making this decision meant I had to leap up, get dressed, and leave the house within 15 minutes, due to the irregular running of the bus that would get me between Hayward's Heath train station and Wakehurst. But leap I did! If I was going to get that train, I needed a simple outfit that didn't require assembling and that would keep me warm. So I reached for a recent gift from my Grandma - her awesome maxi dress from the '70s.

Ain't in fabulous? (Unfortunately, in the rush to get out of the house, I forgot to put on the matching belt but, hey ho, what can you do? Better a dress without a belt than a two-hour wait for a bus.) The wool and velvet fabrics are perfectly toasty for winter but the colours are happily bright enough for me, adding a splash of colour to darker days... although, with the sun out and not a cloud in the sky, Saturday can hardly have been said to be drab.

So, why Wakehurst? Well, long-term readers may recall that I took out membership for Kew Gardens back in August, with the plan to get back there every season and in as many individual months as possible. Following my August visit, I returned in October and in December (although I didn't record my early winter outfit here as I made a nighttime visit and the photos weren't so great). I could have gone back to Kew on the weekend but membership also gets you into Wakehurst, which is connected with the Royal Botanic Gardens. So I thought I may as well see something entirely (not just seasonally) new. Wakehurst also ended up as a good alternative to Kew for winter as it has more wooded areas, and rambling through these and past rocky outcrops makes up for lack of flowers. They also have a winter garden, apparently, but I didn't quite manage to get there as the whole place was so extensive.

My visit to Wakehurst also started me out on a good foot for my New Year's resolution, which is to make a trip out of London at least once a month. These can be daytrips, overnighters or longer, they can be in the UK (which most will be) or abroad, and they can be to the country, wee villages, cities or anywhere else. I'm already filling up my plate with ideas and have the feeling it may have to be more than once a month in order to get them all in. I may slow down later in the year but it feels particularly nice to have adventures lined up for winter, to grab hold of the Romantic potential of the season and prevent falling into the trap of counting down to warmer days and more daylight hours.

But that's enough pictures of me swanning around in my magnificent sartorial heirloom and blathering on about my plans for the year. Here are some photos of the gardens instead:

And it's not just gardens. At the heart of it all is a wonderful Elizabethan house, around which I tiptoed, hushed by the dark timber panelling and (somewhat bizarrely) a congregation of Christmas trees in the chapel.

If you're based in London or the South, I can definitely recommend a trip to Wakehurst. It made for an absolutely lovely day trip. 2014 is off to a happy adventuring start.

Halfway Down the Stairs

The Tate Britain re-opened in its full glory today, following a massive refurbishment. Apparently one of the highlights is the new staircase:

Tate Britain, Millbank, London (Image source)

And don't we, as a species, just love a good staircase?

Wells Cathedral, Somerset (Image source)

Tulip Staircase, Queen's House, Greenwich (Image source)

Nelson Stair, Somerset House, Westminster (Image source: David Holt London)

Tassel House, Brussels (Image source)

De la Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, Sussex (Image source) 

What is it about staircases that we find so appealing? Is it simply the graceful sweeping form of a curved stair, and the pleasing angles and geometry of those that are square on plan? Or is the sense of anticipation in not knowing what lies around the next bend or on the next landing? Or is it the underlying feeling of wonder for the mathematics and physics that appeals to us on some subconscious level, even if we aren't engineers? Or it it that slight sense of exhilaration in being able to move across planes and spaces in ways that would not be possible, were it not for these structures?

Whatever the case, I certainly think there is something more profound than pure aesthetics that gives us a sense of awe and great pleasure on encountering a particularly noteworthy, or even a relatively average staircase.

M.C. Escher's Relativity (Image source)

And that, my dear readers, is what I call a tangent - from a gallery re-opening to waxing philosophical about staircases. Though I did manage to draw it back to art with Escher there.

But do pitch in, what is your favourite staircase? Is it a simple stone medieval spiral staircase? A sweeping marble Baroque palace staircase, with ornate gilded balusters? A clean white, sleekly formed Modernist staircase? Or is it something more humble, like your carpeted, timber staircase at home?

With that last thought, let me leave you with an old favourite poem, which might indeed say a little more about the simple appeal of staircases:

Halfway Down

(A.A. Milne)

Halfway down the stairs

is a stair

where I sit.

There isn't any 

other stair

quite like 

it.

I'm not at the bottom,

I'm not at the top;

so this is the stair

where 

I always stop.

Halfway up the stairs

isn't up

and it isn't down.

It isn't in the nursery,

it isn't in town.

And all sorts of funny thoughts

run round my head.

It isn't really

anywhere!

It's somewhere else

instead!

Foraging for Mushrooms in the Summertime

Mama amongst the mushrooms

As predicted, Autumn has suddenly arrived here in London. Before it gets too ridiculous to post them, I thought I should drop by with photos of my visit to Kew Gardens with my mama and papa back in the sunshiny days of August. We stumbled across some giant mushrooms while we were there, so this post actually serves as a nice way to segue from Summer to Autumn, from summery outfits to autumnal fungi in one post.

The mushrooms were willow sculptures created by an artist called Tom Hare. They were pretty special, as you can hopefully see from these shots, and we enjoyed frolicking amongst them, especially my mother, who is a wee fairy at heart. We found them at a great time of day too, in the late afternoon when the light was golden and shadows lengthening.

Earlier in the day we also made it to Queen Charlotte's Cottage. This was built in the latter half of the eighteenth century and was a rustic retreat for King George III's wife. Royalty's idea of a humble country life... It was pretty sweet, really, and I certainly wouldn't mind having use of it for myself.

The front of Queen Charlotte's Cottage, with some appropriately costumed guides

The 'Picnic Room' in the Cottage

We took a cue (as opposed to Kew... heh heh) from this stylish couple and had a peek around the back of the Cottage, where there was a lovely, secluded little area for snapping a few shots on rickety fences.

Mama examining the timber framing, passed by a lovely, vintage-styled couple

Enjoying the Royal woodlands
Top: Hand-me-down from a friend
Skirt: Beyond Retro, London
Hat: Fabhatrix, Edinburgh
Shoes: Somewhere in Leipzig, Germany

So that was August at Kew. Long-time readers will recall a post I wrote when I visited the Gardens for the first time ever back in November 2011. At the time, I thought it would be wonderful to go back every season... but, like so many plans, it didn't come immediately to fruition. However, when I visited this time, I bought a year's membership, as I thought this might prompt me to make some return visits. So be prepared for more photographic records of Kew over the months and seasons in the course of the year to come...

Snapped secretly by my mother, as I re-pinned my hair...