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ladyofastolatWe had a week in North Devon the week before last. We broke the journey en route with a night in Tiverton, with visits to a Victorian Gothic pile and a bee farm.
Knightshayes is fun. It was commissioned in the 1860s by the local lace magnate, who went straight to the William Burges, the foremost designer of overblown Victorian Gothic masterpieces/monostrosities (delete as appropriate, depending on your taste). Unfortunately, the plan he came up with was, A, rather TOO overblown for the lace baron's taste, and, B, rather too expensive. So halfway through the project, the lace lord dismissed Burges and went for another designer whose Gothicness was, A, a little more restrained, and, B, cheaper.
When the National Trust bought the house in the 1970s, Victorian Gothic was so out of fashion that the NT's secretary wrote that the house itself was completely irrelevant, and only of use as a sort of glorified garden feature. Happily, attitudes have changed, and they've now restored as much as they can of the original presentation, and turned it into a very pleasant riot of Victorian high drama.
Here is a hallway...
...and a ceiling.
One of my favourite rooms was the billiard room, which was for the most part a normal late Victorian/Edwardian billiard room. (I particularly liked this since I've been enjoying the latest variant on the Great British Sewing Throw-Off type of TV show, which focuses on making the furniture and fittings for a historical-themed dolls house. The week before we went, they'd made an Edwardian billard room, so it was nice to immediately see a real one.) Anyway... for some reason (a deadly warning to dissolute billiards players?) the room is decorated with a series of stone corbels in which animals depict the 7 deadly sins.
What possible sin could be depicted by a fox snuggled up in a blanket?
What about Jemima Puddleduck heading for the beach with her towel under her wing and her pocket money wisely stowed in a cross-body handbag?
And a sheep playing a lyre?
Thankfully, a poem was on hand to explain:
Pride is an eagle, haughty and bold
Envy a fox wrapped up against the cold
Lust is a ram seducing with his lyre
Covetousness a goose with his purse quire
Gluttony's a pig, Anger a snarling
Wolf while sloth (though pretending
To be a poor scholar) hangs torpid from a tree.
Over them all broods wise owl who is not given to sinning.
So now you know.
Outside was a horribly tortured gargoyle.
And a very proud, puffed up eagle. When we were on holiday somewhere in Italy, we saw a statue of Ganymede with Zeus in eagle form. Ganymede's arm was slung over the eagle's back as they walked side by side in a way that SO OBVIOUSLY (to us) meant that they were staggering home drunk from the pub, doubtless slurring "you're my besht friend" to each other. Since then, we've both had a habit of seeing eagle statues as being more than a little drunk. This one did not disabuse us of this notion. Drunk, puffed up, and eager for an unwise brawl.
There was a kitchen garden, complete with corner towers and crenellations. Outside, a very nice sign told people to "Park Your Dog Here." Inside there wasn't yet very much growing, since it was still only early May, but I did like the handwritten signs. My favourite:
It just amused me. I like to think of Oxalis Latifola as a Dark Lord, with the 6 year battle covered by an epic fantasy trilogy, culminating in a triumphant... not medal ceremony, not crowning of the Lord Heir, but a mighty planting of celebratory cornflowers. After this, any epic fantasy that doesn't end with triumphant seed-planting will seem somewhat wrong. (Although, come to think of it, this kind of already IS the end of The Lord of the Rings.)
The gardens were nice. I've really come round to the appeal of stately home gardens, especially those that little the place with scenic benches and seats and summer houses, so you can meander around and sit down every 20 steps to enjoy a different lovely view, surrounded by twirtling birds. Since it was still early in the season, the prevailing theme was bluebells and garlic, but we did puzzle over one plants, which was growing in numerous tall spears in amongst bluebells. We found one of them which was beginning to open up, and later identified it via the internet as Sicilian honey garlic.
It proceeded to haunt our holiday. Every single garden we went to had it, with the flowers opening up more and more with every day. I've never seen it before. Either it is In, or a local Devon nursery specialises in it and has sold it to every Devon public garden in existence.
Anyway. There was some good topiary, too.
Then, after a night in hotel in Tiverton, we headed west and stopped at a honey farm, where we had a late breakfast, followed by a series of tours and talks. The pricing of the place is strange, since there was apparently no way to get in at all without signing up for an entire morning of talks and tours. However, it was very well-priced, compared with most other attractions, and looked interesting, so we signed up. I'd expected to be one of hordes, but there were only 4 other adults in the group. (The place itself was packed, but it has a play area and a good cafe, so obviously most people were coming just for those.)
We learnt lots of fascinating things about bees. It started with a tour of the garden, talking about bee-friendly plants. (Best Flower Ever for bees: brambles.) Then we stood behind glass and watched a bee-keeping demonstration. We saw the queen. "We're looking for a splash of white," the bee-keeper said, and we nodded sagely, thinking, "ah, queen bees have some white on them. That's how you recognise them. I never knew."
The splash of white turned out to be a little round label with "33" printed on it. Oh well.
Anyway... It was all really interesting, but I need to stop now and go to the garden centre so we can get back before lunch, ready to Do Gardening in the afternoon. I might edit this later to add a few more interesting Bee Facts.
Knightshayes is fun. It was commissioned in the 1860s by the local lace magnate, who went straight to the William Burges, the foremost designer of overblown Victorian Gothic masterpieces/monostrosities (delete as appropriate, depending on your taste). Unfortunately, the plan he came up with was, A, rather TOO overblown for the lace baron's taste, and, B, rather too expensive. So halfway through the project, the lace lord dismissed Burges and went for another designer whose Gothicness was, A, a little more restrained, and, B, cheaper.
When the National Trust bought the house in the 1970s, Victorian Gothic was so out of fashion that the NT's secretary wrote that the house itself was completely irrelevant, and only of use as a sort of glorified garden feature. Happily, attitudes have changed, and they've now restored as much as they can of the original presentation, and turned it into a very pleasant riot of Victorian high drama.
Here is a hallway...
...and a ceiling.
One of my favourite rooms was the billiard room, which was for the most part a normal late Victorian/Edwardian billiard room. (I particularly liked this since I've been enjoying the latest variant on the Great British Sewing Throw-Off type of TV show, which focuses on making the furniture and fittings for a historical-themed dolls house. The week before we went, they'd made an Edwardian billard room, so it was nice to immediately see a real one.) Anyway... for some reason (a deadly warning to dissolute billiards players?) the room is decorated with a series of stone corbels in which animals depict the 7 deadly sins.
What possible sin could be depicted by a fox snuggled up in a blanket?
What about Jemima Puddleduck heading for the beach with her towel under her wing and her pocket money wisely stowed in a cross-body handbag?
And a sheep playing a lyre?
Thankfully, a poem was on hand to explain:
Pride is an eagle, haughty and bold
Envy a fox wrapped up against the cold
Lust is a ram seducing with his lyre
Covetousness a goose with his purse quire
Gluttony's a pig, Anger a snarling
Wolf while sloth (though pretending
To be a poor scholar) hangs torpid from a tree.
Over them all broods wise owl who is not given to sinning.
So now you know.
Outside was a horribly tortured gargoyle.
And a very proud, puffed up eagle. When we were on holiday somewhere in Italy, we saw a statue of Ganymede with Zeus in eagle form. Ganymede's arm was slung over the eagle's back as they walked side by side in a way that SO OBVIOUSLY (to us) meant that they were staggering home drunk from the pub, doubtless slurring "you're my besht friend" to each other. Since then, we've both had a habit of seeing eagle statues as being more than a little drunk. This one did not disabuse us of this notion. Drunk, puffed up, and eager for an unwise brawl.
There was a kitchen garden, complete with corner towers and crenellations. Outside, a very nice sign told people to "Park Your Dog Here." Inside there wasn't yet very much growing, since it was still only early May, but I did like the handwritten signs. My favourite:
It just amused me. I like to think of Oxalis Latifola as a Dark Lord, with the 6 year battle covered by an epic fantasy trilogy, culminating in a triumphant... not medal ceremony, not crowning of the Lord Heir, but a mighty planting of celebratory cornflowers. After this, any epic fantasy that doesn't end with triumphant seed-planting will seem somewhat wrong. (Although, come to think of it, this kind of already IS the end of The Lord of the Rings.)
The gardens were nice. I've really come round to the appeal of stately home gardens, especially those that little the place with scenic benches and seats and summer houses, so you can meander around and sit down every 20 steps to enjoy a different lovely view, surrounded by twirtling birds. Since it was still early in the season, the prevailing theme was bluebells and garlic, but we did puzzle over one plants, which was growing in numerous tall spears in amongst bluebells. We found one of them which was beginning to open up, and later identified it via the internet as Sicilian honey garlic.
It proceeded to haunt our holiday. Every single garden we went to had it, with the flowers opening up more and more with every day. I've never seen it before. Either it is In, or a local Devon nursery specialises in it and has sold it to every Devon public garden in existence.
Anyway. There was some good topiary, too.
Then, after a night in hotel in Tiverton, we headed west and stopped at a honey farm, where we had a late breakfast, followed by a series of tours and talks. The pricing of the place is strange, since there was apparently no way to get in at all without signing up for an entire morning of talks and tours. However, it was very well-priced, compared with most other attractions, and looked interesting, so we signed up. I'd expected to be one of hordes, but there were only 4 other adults in the group. (The place itself was packed, but it has a play area and a good cafe, so obviously most people were coming just for those.)
We learnt lots of fascinating things about bees. It started with a tour of the garden, talking about bee-friendly plants. (Best Flower Ever for bees: brambles.) Then we stood behind glass and watched a bee-keeping demonstration. We saw the queen. "We're looking for a splash of white," the bee-keeper said, and we nodded sagely, thinking, "ah, queen bees have some white on them. That's how you recognise them. I never knew."
The splash of white turned out to be a little round label with "33" printed on it. Oh well.
Anyway... It was all really interesting, but I need to stop now and go to the garden centre so we can get back before lunch, ready to Do Gardening in the afternoon. I might edit this later to add a few more interesting Bee Facts.
