“I want to see some secular architecture” Robert Leiper said, “some stately homes of England”. I explained that very few places were likely to be open in the winter, but that we could look at some exteriors. He went into his room to change, and reappeared dressed as a chav, including a Burberry baseball cap (he must have brought this item of ASBO-chic with him as there was nowhere locally he could have bought it). He thought this chav outfit was a huge joke. I told him that if he got into any fights he was on his own. We left the house just after one.
It was a cold day, slightly misty, occasionally raining. We drove across the county and through a small market town (elegant 18th century Town Hall) and stopped in the next village to look at the monuments in the church (I insisted on this, despite Robert Leiper complaining he was “all churched out”). I showed him the ducal pew, some elaborate marble compositions, and a set of shelves supporting marble heads. We then drove around the estate trying to find a gap in the trees where we could see the house. The closest we got was the main gates, from which point we could see the main façade about half a mile away. The “Castle” is one of the grandest houses in England, with a reputation for hauteur, and so it seemed appropriate that we were kept at arm’s length.
Above: I showed him... a set of shelves supporting marble heads.
Above: we could see the main façade about half a mile away.
Next to see a “Manor” Robert had read about in a book on 19th century architecture. As we approached the house through the surrounding parkland we passed lots of notices saying “Strictly No Entry” (Robert Leiper was unperturbed by these prohibitions, encouraging me to drive through them). Parking by the service wing, we walked around the exterior of the house, a monstrous edifice in the Jacobean style, designed by Salvin and currently occupied by the European branch of an American educational institute. It was a little unnerving to walk in the courtyard under all the many windows, but the place seemed to be deserted and no-one challenged us. It began to rain heavily so I stepped under a protruding piece of masonry to shelter while Robert Leiper continued to walk around. I stood there for about twenty minutes until I heard footsteps approaching on the wet gravel. I was screened from view by one of the pillars, and so the two people approaching could not see me. They stopped only inches away from me, also sheltering from the rain. It was obvious from their voices that they were a American couple, and from what they were saying I judged that the girl was a student at the institute being visited by her boyfriend over the Christmas holiday. Their conversation became very intimate, and referred to things a third party should not hear (this was not done in an extrovert way – they were very seriously discussing their carnal relationship). I considered walking away, but to do so I would have to pass them, and the issue of trespassing might be raised. I hoped they would walk away, but they showed no sign of doing so. I hoped Robert Leiper would distract them, but he had entirely disappeared. Eventually, after about ten minutes, the girl took a small step forward and we came face to face. It was an embarrassing moment for both of us.
“Hello” I said to her politely.
“Hello” she said back politely, her boyfriend appearing at her shoulder.
I stepped forward and walked swiftly past them. I could hear them walking swiftly in the opposite direction. I went back to my car and when Robert Leiper finally appeared we drove off.
From the “Manor” we drove across to the edge of the county where we got a fairly good view of a ducal castle from a distance (on top of a hill with woods all around). We were very close to the gastro-pub Marie-Astrid planned to take us to on Wednesday (that disastrous night!), and went in to have a look. It was warm and comfortable inside, but too late for lunch and too early for dinner.
The rain continued to fall, and the light faded. We drove into the next town, a grimy, sprawling centre of manufacturing. At the station we asked about trains for Robert to go back to London (smiling teenage chavs hanging around the station chatted to him, intrigued by his American accent).
We then had “afternoon tea” at the main hotel in the town. This was not my idea, as I knew we would be over-charged for what we could get at a café for a fraction of the price, but Robert Leiper saw it advertised on a board outside the hotel and wanted to try it. The meal (mostly cakes) was excessively sweet and sugary so that I felt nauseated. Cold, wet and very tired, I was glad to get home.
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