A weekend in Dorset
I'm getting better at this. This time I'm only a month late in posting about a holiday. We're holidaying in the pointy bit of Cornwall next week, so at this rate, I might even write it up before the end of July!
Anyway, last July, when it became apparent that we'd have a few spare hours on the way home from a dancing weekend in Dorset, we found Athelhampton House online, but decided that it was too expensive for such a short visit, and chose a free National Trust property (Kingston Lacey) instead. But it looked nice, so we said we'd get to it one day. In fact, this was one of the reasons I joined the Historic Houses Association using an English Heritage offer last summer, since Athelhampton House plus Hever - both places we definitely planned to visit - accounted for the membership fee by themselves.
I'd hoped for a weekend in Dorset the weekend after my Big Walk, as a reward and incentive, but had to dance instead. I also preferred to leave booking until there was at least some indication of likely weather, so had dismissed the late May Bank Holiday as being probably Too Busy. However, Pellinor found a last-minute in a the village inn in Piddletrenthide - a nice, unpretentious village pub. So off we went.
On the Saturday, we revisited Kingston Lacey, since it had been Too Hot last year to do much more than wilt in shady stables with a cold drink, and "accidentally" wander too close to the sprinklers in the fernery. I entirely failed to photograph the exterior - perhaps because I done so last year (see the end of this post) or even the comical lions. I did, however, get a comical sea monster who has bitten off a lot more than it can chew.
The house itself is an Italianate mansion, absolutely heaving with Art. I liked this ceiling.
I also really liked the nursery rooms in the attic, decorated to look like tents. I entirely failed to photograph them, either, but I think this window came from one the rooms up there. I liked the effect created by the dark gauzy window covering.
There was a Japanese garden, where Something Moved as I walked past. I am absolutely sure that Something Moved - something in a water feature, I think, where I'm sure a component suddenly pivoted then snapped back up again. But would it move again? Of course not! I wonder if passersby thought we were staring so intently at an incredibly rare animal, rather than just trying to prove that I wasn't imagining things.
There was also an Acer Glade, which guaranteed that we both went round with earworms. "The only thing you see, you know it's gonna be The Acer Glade! The Acer Glade! The Acer Glade!"
Out in the woods, there was a nice carved wood play area, although I disturbed by the fact that the insect was bigger than the owl.
At various points in the woods, notices invited children to touch tree bark, look up at the clouds - helpful wooden leaning posts were provided - and various other things from their "50 things to do before you're 11 3/4"
Here was where you were invited to "pose with a nature frame." Pellinor wanted to join in, but was either too tall, or not really trying. Or both.
But then he found a pet! There was a little scrap of something or other from a tree, thin and about an inch long, looking like a caterpillar. It was dangling in mid-air, caught on an invisible strand of spider silk, so he moved his hand above it, and caught it. It stayed attached for a surprisingly long time, while he took it on a walk, happily skipping along the woodland path with his "pet." But then it went. :-(
Here he is in happier times.
On the Sunday, it was rather gloomy with some rain forecast, but undaunted, we headed off the Sherborne (New) Castle, originally built by Walter Ralegh who nicked the site from a bishop. It was busy preparing for its Bank Holiday Monday Country Show, which meant that all over the grounds, people were scurrying around putting up helter-skelters, setting up ferret racing courses, dragon boat competitions, cheese stalls, bouncy dog courses, and so on. We concluded that it was probably far more fun to watch it all being set up than to actually go to it.
Pausing for a mid-morning tea, we headed to the outside seating area. "Oh! Fresh meat!" said the couple already out there, which was somewhat disconcerting.
Then it came. It. The Robin. The Robin who wanted Pellinor's cake, and would not rest until it got it.
So he threw it a bit, and it took it, and flew away. Much to the amazement of the other couple who had been menaced by it for 10 minutes and had never thought to placate it.
There was a mosaic under the tea room. Not a comical lion this time, but a comical god: Apollo.
I can't remember much about the house, but the grounds were pretty, all based around a landscaped lake, and with the ruins of the old castle just outside the wall. This was English Heritage, and the house was private (Historic Houses Association - another one for our score) so visitors from either side kept meeting sadly at the barred gate, like star-crossed lovers, asking each other how to get to the other side.
There was a rather lovely little "fossil house" in the grounds, made only a year or two ago, and entirely paved and tiled with fossils. And, yes, I failed to photograph that, either.
After the new house, we headed for the ruined old castle, where I took a rather bad picture of the new house from across the None Shall Pass wall. I liked the way the marquee was trying to flee its fate. Or fete.
And then, on the Monday, Athelhampton House (which is for sale, by the way, if anyone has a spare £7.5 million.) This is a lovely manor house in even lovelier gardens, set out c. 1900 or so in a vaguely Renaissance style by so by an antiquarian owner. I really liked the gardens, which had lots of distinct "rooms", each with its own statuary, ponds or random pinnacles. Several reminded me of places where you might do a ritual in a roleplaying game, especially the terrifying topiary, where you clearly have to rotate each tree in the right order to reveal the hidden altar/monster/treasure.
Oh no! It's The Robin! It's followed us for more cake!
I don't know who this is, except that he's clearly smoking.
A bridge over the River Piddle, into which we stared for a long while spotting teeny fish and big fish and fish building hidey-holes under leaves and defending them against all comers. It reminded me of a Monet painting.
A nice doocot. I liked doocots. It had doos in it.
And the house itself.
And then home.
Anyway, last July, when it became apparent that we'd have a few spare hours on the way home from a dancing weekend in Dorset, we found Athelhampton House online, but decided that it was too expensive for such a short visit, and chose a free National Trust property (Kingston Lacey) instead. But it looked nice, so we said we'd get to it one day. In fact, this was one of the reasons I joined the Historic Houses Association using an English Heritage offer last summer, since Athelhampton House plus Hever - both places we definitely planned to visit - accounted for the membership fee by themselves.
I'd hoped for a weekend in Dorset the weekend after my Big Walk, as a reward and incentive, but had to dance instead. I also preferred to leave booking until there was at least some indication of likely weather, so had dismissed the late May Bank Holiday as being probably Too Busy. However, Pellinor found a last-minute in a the village inn in Piddletrenthide - a nice, unpretentious village pub. So off we went.
On the Saturday, we revisited Kingston Lacey, since it had been Too Hot last year to do much more than wilt in shady stables with a cold drink, and "accidentally" wander too close to the sprinklers in the fernery. I entirely failed to photograph the exterior - perhaps because I done so last year (see the end of this post) or even the comical lions. I did, however, get a comical sea monster who has bitten off a lot more than it can chew.
The house itself is an Italianate mansion, absolutely heaving with Art. I liked this ceiling.
I also really liked the nursery rooms in the attic, decorated to look like tents. I entirely failed to photograph them, either, but I think this window came from one the rooms up there. I liked the effect created by the dark gauzy window covering.
There was a Japanese garden, where Something Moved as I walked past. I am absolutely sure that Something Moved - something in a water feature, I think, where I'm sure a component suddenly pivoted then snapped back up again. But would it move again? Of course not! I wonder if passersby thought we were staring so intently at an incredibly rare animal, rather than just trying to prove that I wasn't imagining things.
There was also an Acer Glade, which guaranteed that we both went round with earworms. "The only thing you see, you know it's gonna be The Acer Glade! The Acer Glade! The Acer Glade!"
Out in the woods, there was a nice carved wood play area, although I disturbed by the fact that the insect was bigger than the owl.
At various points in the woods, notices invited children to touch tree bark, look up at the clouds - helpful wooden leaning posts were provided - and various other things from their "50 things to do before you're 11 3/4"
Here was where you were invited to "pose with a nature frame." Pellinor wanted to join in, but was either too tall, or not really trying. Or both.
But then he found a pet! There was a little scrap of something or other from a tree, thin and about an inch long, looking like a caterpillar. It was dangling in mid-air, caught on an invisible strand of spider silk, so he moved his hand above it, and caught it. It stayed attached for a surprisingly long time, while he took it on a walk, happily skipping along the woodland path with his "pet." But then it went. :-(
Here he is in happier times.
On the Sunday, it was rather gloomy with some rain forecast, but undaunted, we headed off the Sherborne (New) Castle, originally built by Walter Ralegh who nicked the site from a bishop. It was busy preparing for its Bank Holiday Monday Country Show, which meant that all over the grounds, people were scurrying around putting up helter-skelters, setting up ferret racing courses, dragon boat competitions, cheese stalls, bouncy dog courses, and so on. We concluded that it was probably far more fun to watch it all being set up than to actually go to it.
Pausing for a mid-morning tea, we headed to the outside seating area. "Oh! Fresh meat!" said the couple already out there, which was somewhat disconcerting.
Then it came. It. The Robin. The Robin who wanted Pellinor's cake, and would not rest until it got it.
So he threw it a bit, and it took it, and flew away. Much to the amazement of the other couple who had been menaced by it for 10 minutes and had never thought to placate it.
There was a mosaic under the tea room. Not a comical lion this time, but a comical god: Apollo.
I can't remember much about the house, but the grounds were pretty, all based around a landscaped lake, and with the ruins of the old castle just outside the wall. This was English Heritage, and the house was private (Historic Houses Association - another one for our score) so visitors from either side kept meeting sadly at the barred gate, like star-crossed lovers, asking each other how to get to the other side.
There was a rather lovely little "fossil house" in the grounds, made only a year or two ago, and entirely paved and tiled with fossils. And, yes, I failed to photograph that, either.
After the new house, we headed for the ruined old castle, where I took a rather bad picture of the new house from across the None Shall Pass wall. I liked the way the marquee was trying to flee its fate. Or fete.
And then, on the Monday, Athelhampton House (which is for sale, by the way, if anyone has a spare £7.5 million.) This is a lovely manor house in even lovelier gardens, set out c. 1900 or so in a vaguely Renaissance style by so by an antiquarian owner. I really liked the gardens, which had lots of distinct "rooms", each with its own statuary, ponds or random pinnacles. Several reminded me of places where you might do a ritual in a roleplaying game, especially the terrifying topiary, where you clearly have to rotate each tree in the right order to reveal the hidden altar/monster/treasure.
Oh no! It's The Robin! It's followed us for more cake!
I don't know who this is, except that he's clearly smoking.
A bridge over the River Piddle, into which we stared for a long while spotting teeny fish and big fish and fish building hidey-holes under leaves and defending them against all comers. It reminded me of a Monet painting.
A nice doocot. I liked doocots. It had doos in it.
And the house itself.
And then home.