3⁄4" Cuban Mahogany II

Well Gregor sanded the slab of reclaimed wood that I bought recently at Steptoe's Yard in Montrose. What we both thought was weathered Cuban Mahogany turned out to be Teak. Well done to Gregor for his professional identification. Teak is even harder than Mahogany. There are Janka Hardness charts for various species of wood on the Internet.

Gregor cut this up to construct two new "meal shelves" which were once a feature of the bedroom corridors at Balintore Castle for the servants to use for holding trays.

As the reclaimed material is not the same wood type as the original mahogany, we thought it best to recreate a pair of missing shelves from scratch rather than repair existing shelves.

sanded and cut-up teak

And in fact, to get a pair of shelves out of the one slab, we had to make them 18" wide instead of the original 20". I don't think anyone is going to notice.  :-)  I sumggested cutting the shelves out across the grain instead of with the grain to get the the right size, but Gregor said they could split and we should honour the grain orientation of the original shelves.

Gregor could not locate a router bit in his case to match the original moulding of the shelve edges, and was starting to fret a little. However, he had one bit that was the right shape but just a tadge smaller in scale. I convinced him this was good enough - it certainly was to my eye. Sometimes when perfection is not achieveable, it just needs someone with a more objective outlook to say "good enough" to the person trying to solve the problem.

Gregor's router bits

The routered shelving looks great. :-) Aside from the shelf proper, there is also a section of wood that is attached to the wall, and a small section of shelf 2" deep to which the large main shelf is hinged. The depth of the main shelf was unknown as there are none left, but I remarked to Gregor that my eye and sense of proportion said they should be 12". Gregor was hovering at 10", and I suggested we could try looking at the original plans.

routered teak

Anyhow, I looked at the original plans this evening, and found this.

meal shelves described in the original plans

By a miracle, my guess at the shelf depth was spot on: 2" on one side of the hinge and 12" deep on the other making the 14" mentioned in the plans. Channel that building hurrahs! :-)

In my researches on hardwood, I learned a new word chatoyance. This is the way hardwoods change in colour with the incident angle of light, so you get a ripple effect that moves on the surface as you move your relative position. This gives a 3D effect with two vantage points i.e. one from each eye. Need I mention that chatoyance is desirable? The derivation makes one feel dumb for not spotting it. Chatoyance = chat + oeil + ance = cat + eye + ance as in the mineral cat's eye which exhibits the same phenomenon from the world of physics.  :-)

3⁄4" Cuban Mahogany

Having friends banned from visiting me at the castle, has made me realise that I need to take little trips into the world for mental health.

So on Friday, I went on a few errands. Whilst in Montrose, I made a short detour to Steptoe's Yard, which is less a reclaim yard, than a descent into Dante's Inferno. :-)

Much of the stock is unsellable or broken or decomposed, but then there is a curious masochistic pleasure and sense of adventure in trying to find something one could use - saving the planet and perhaps saving some pennies in the process.

It is an object lesson in really looking. After 30 minutes, I was in despair: the stock had aged; there had been little replenishent; and obviously the best stuff had been cherry-picked some time ago. 

Suddenly, bingo - I spotted a large cardboard box full of vintage gentlemen's hairbrushes. I had misplaced my existing vintage ones and my hair was in consequence badly in need of taming. A little rummage, and I found a pair, and indeed a pair almost identical in design to the misplaced ones. :-)

I was walking outside, in the rain, and saw an old silvered bit of wood. Much of the wood left outside at Taylors is clearly the worse for the exposure to the weather, but this looked remarkably untarnished and instinctively I tapped it. What came back was the sharp echo of hardwood! Could this possibly be Cuban Mahogany?

slab of wood from Steptoe's

I was looking for Cuban mahogany to repair the "meal shelves" at the castle i.e. flaps of wood on hinges on corridor walls outside bedrooms. You could raise these flaps to the horizonal, support them with a built-in bracket, and then use them for breakfast plates etc. The meal shelves are still largely intact at the castle, except that the flaps themselves have been taken as souvenirs. The original 1858 plans show that these were manufactured from 3/4" Cuban Mahogany.

meal shelf at castle

I had bought two small antique Cuban Mahogany tables for a tenner. However, I hadn't yet brought myself to cut these up, and was hoping against hope to find a slab of Cuban Mahogany.

Anyhow, the assistant at Steptoe's let me have the brushes and the wood for a tenner. She had been expecting me to haggle her down but I knew I had a tenner in my wallet (they only take cash) and it wasn't worth aguing the toss. She said she would give me a discount on the next visit. 

She revealed that Mr. Steptoe had had a brain stem stoke but was recovering well, apparently such a stoke is only 15% survivable. I was unaware that he was unwell and it would explain the lack of new stock.

Anyhow, before I left the yard I was delighted to see Mr. Steptoe bustling about,  perhaps not quite as busy as usual, and we exchanged a few words. I thanked him for the wood saying that it was the answer to my prayers, and he replied "That's why we do it.". :-)

The slab of wood was probably the top of a chest of drawers. Normally, these are mahogany veneer only, so this would have been a top-end piece. I measured the slab and it was 3⁄4" + 2/32" thick.

I measured the wood at the back of the meal shelves and it is 3⁄4" + 1/32" thick. The match in thickness is almost perfect. I suspect they are both nominally 3⁄4" but would have been over-spec-ed for quality and sanding purposes.

In fact, the moulding on the edges is almost identical too.

I cleaned up the back of the meal-shelf and the top half of the reclaimed slab. It's perhaps wishful thinking, but I think I can see the sample purple cast of mahogany on both. I will ask my carpenter Gregor when he comes in on Monday.

Amazingly, it looks like the back of the shelf will clean up perfectly - the grey areas are splattered plastering primer that will just need elbow grease to remove. The slab, however, will need a little re-polish with a fine grit as it feels slightly rough.

half cleaned slab of wood from Steptoe's

cleaned meal-shelf at castle

Anyhow, there is a moral buried deep in this story. You may despair with what is in front of you but look again and look more carefully and you may find the exact solutions to the problems you have.

Pallet It

I have been sourcing tiles for the large female servants' sitting room in the basement of the castle. The tiles are for a small kitchen area and a small bathroom area as would have been found there originally. Most modern tiles would look totally out of place in a Victorian setting, and indeed most modern tiles are vile, so one's choice is surprisingly limited.

When I expressed my deep frustrations to Gavin and Gregor i.e. that the only nice tiles are on eBay and "collection only" in the deep South of England, they said "Why don't you just pick-up tiles from Topps Tiles in Dundee?". 

I do listen to advice, and sat down and worked my way systematically through the Topps Tiles website. Oh dear!  Things appear to have got worse rather than better. Topps Tiles used to feature natural stone (which I favour): now there are instead a lot of porcelain fake stone tiles which enforce clinical precision on a look that used to be supplied via a natural product. Nothing in the Topps Tiles catalogue inspired, despite the fact they are a local pick-up. Obviously, not everything was horrible but the price of what could have been acceptable was extortionate.

The tile market has a very strange pricing structure. Basic white tiles, etc, are OK in price, but move away to anything remotely desirable in the design department and the price sky-rockets. I am pretty certain this does not represent the underlying manufacturing costs. I suspect pricing in tile-rich cultures like Spain and Turkey is much more democratic, but we are in rip-off Britain.

Occasionally, I am tempted to indulge in Islamic tiles (think of the Arab Hall in Leighton House in Kensington) but import costs would overwhelm, and my rational mind has decided that tiles at Balintore are functional and not a design feature in themselves. And of course even with basic tiles, tiling patterns if desired, add no additional cost.

Anyhow, it suddenly dawned on me: "Why don't I just buy those eBay tiles in the South of England, and use a pallet company?". I had used pallet companies before. It is not cheap - perhaps £100 to move a pallet around the country, but it is much less expensive than a courier or driving down in person. Of course, you have to buy enough tiles to make it worthwhile - so that £100 becomes just a fraction of the overall cost.

I had been considering at one stage plain coloured mini-metro tiles which are good value for the basic colours: white, cobalt, emerald and cobalt. These come in at £15/m². I decided that a sexy peacock mini-metro would give an Islamic feel, but these come in at £60/m². When my mini metro tile samples arrived, I did like the peacock but not enough to justify the much higher cost.

For the basement area, Gavin would not accept a white tile and wanted a warmer "ivory" colour, and indeed a warmer colour altogether for the kitchen area. He has expensive tastes. :-) 

Anyhow, I located and ordered a couple of "remaindered lots" from the South of England: one a bone-coloured crackle-glazed mini metro (for the bathroom) and the other a glaced terracotta tile with natural colour variations (for the kitchen).

Thankfully both sellers could supply their own pallet and the pick-ups and drop-offs went like a dream.  The terracotta arrived today, and the bone arrived yesterday. Thankfully, my builders approve - though they tutted at the brighter orange teracotta tiles. :-) 

The choice of colours was really constrained by the mini kitchen. We have used second hand oak doors and oak drawer fronts and broken third-hand granite worktops. With two natural textures already, the tiles simply could not be patterened, and could only be plain coloured or another very subtle natural texture. The warmth of the colour of these variagated terracotta tiles jumped out at me from the eBay listing, and I decided to just go for it. And of course, a natural terracotta product is very much what could have been used in a Victorian servant area.

I manage to find out the manufacturer of the teracotta tile (Equipe in Finueroles, Spain) and the bone tile (Adex in Onda, Spain not far away). I got some more samples of the Equipe tiles in different colours as I thought the darker teracotta, might need a lighter colour on top. Gregor and Gavin loved the Artisan Gold which is even darker, and this is after complaining they they did want too dark a tile! :-) Indeed, the Artisan Gold toned surprisingly well with the oak, but is probably too dark overall. The Atisan and Country labels turned out to be a textural variation not a colour variation - the Artisan tile is much more roughly shaped and textured.

However, while holding the teracotta tiles in place today, we all concluded they didn't need a border, or to be topped off by other tiles as they were sufficiently "stand alone". Sometimes, simplicity is the result of complex thinking. :-)

The bone tiles were left over from a client with high end tastes - these retail at over £100/m² ! It's always good to know that a bargain is even better than one thought.

I am struck by how apparently random the design decisions at Balintore are, and yet on the other hand, with the materials available things could only really have gone one way. Everything has been second hand and budget. It's particularly nice to work with Gavin and Gregor as they are putting in the hard work, so they have a vested interest in not doing anything unspeakably horrible. :-)

The terracotta tiles will go on the wall behind the bespoke kitchen units built by Gregor. So you can see the design constraints are the oak doors (eBay) and the granite countertop (Facebook Marketplace).

Docking with Alice

Alice in the dock

The support by Angus Council for the restoration of Balintore Castle is demonstrated by their invitation to me, yesterday, to attend a free tour of the wonderful high-Victorian 1871 Justice of the Peace Court in Forfar. It is, I have often considered, the finest building in Forfar, and how I have wished to view the interior.

Forfar Court

There may be positive signs that the legislature is a more enlightened body, as the Council's case against me has been postponed for a month until the court receives a copy of the medical consultant's letter detailing a diagnosis of severe trauma caused by my attempts to deal with Angus Council. The Council had been ignoring letters from my GP.

My solicitor invited me to take a seat in the courtroom. "Where would you like me to sit?" I inquired. I was directed to a wooden box, containing three leatherette seats. I located myself on the central one purely from aesthetic considerations.

I had never been in a dock before, and the final scene in "Alice in Wonderland" came to mind, where Alice finds herself in the dock. I resisted the famous line "You're nothing but a pack of cards!", at which stage Alice's dream/nightmare disperses and the story concludes. I knew quoting Alice would have been an ineffectual line of defence in the real world. However, the insanity of the Council's actions are perfectly comparable to those of the Red Queen, so I would have been speaking the truth.

So in summary, there is no indication of when or if the Council nightmare will be over, and they have been threatening me with jail.

You're nothing but a pack of cards.

There was considerable joy observing the totality of the human condition in the general waiting room of the court, and I guess this is the other side of having to study dry legal tomes. Here is one delicious encounter, involving some other case, that I overheard:

A legal counsel approached his client:

Counsel: "I have spoken to the prosecutor, and she says she will let it go."

Client: "Do you mean it's all over?"

Counsel: "Yes."

The client's body visibly jolted as the realisation occured. It was a visceral "in the body" release. The longterm stress had presumably lifted. 

Client: "You're the man!"

The client approached the counsel to give him one of those "matey" one arm hugs that are permissible within a certain male demographic (not mine). The client twisted his torso powefully and his arm swung.

The counsel stepped back rapidly to get out of the way: on his face a look of abject horror. The client's arm failed to make contact, in the void were the residual swirling tails of the counsel's black robes.

The counsel turned smartly on his heels, and left the room at great speed with his robes billowing behind him.

The lack of recognition of his client's joy was so powerful, that I felt obliged to shout across the room "That's really good news - many congratulations. I am not there yet.".

The client exited the front door of the court five seconds later obviously desperate to get away. In contrast, I need a sit down and a cup of tea after trauma or a good chat to the lovely woman police officer in the court building. :-)

Doing the Subcontinental

Two charming gentlemen from the subcontinent have recently moved into the Great Hall.

Aware of the ban imposed by Angus Council on any friends visiting me, they have obligingly developed a proficieny in the "statue dance" game where you have to freeze like a statue when the music stops. Those subcontinentals certainly know when to stop when "The Continental" stops or the Council arrives.

The gentlemen were until recently employed by a film and TV props company called the "The Eccentric Trading Company" where their superhuman ability to imitate guildwood candelabra was nurtured. Unfortunately, the HS2 ploughed though their gaff of 30 years in the north-west of London and they found themselves unemployed. I picked them up somewhat ignominiously in the resulting clearance sale.

The gentlemen are 8'6" tall and the back of my van is only 7' so I was unsure if I could transport them even with my passenger seat folded forward. It was going to be a tight squeeze. The saleroom told me they did not come apart.

Anyhow, when I did collect them, I found that there is both a "build-in" plinth but a 2' high detachable faux-marble pedestal. The lady in the saleroom had obviously got confused between her plinth and her pedestal, and to be honest I don't know the difference myself. :-)

The pedestals looks to have been hand-made by the props company to raise the gentleman to even greater height for their screen appearances. This is ideal for the tall ceiling of the Great Hall.

I was under no illusion that these were antique black-a-moor torchières, as I know enough about the antique market that these would be unaffordable. I have seen somewhat costly carved Chinese copies, so assumed this is what they would be. However, the stamp on them says Italy and they are clearly hand carved wood which pleased me no end, as they are based on a Venetian design where presumably such objects originated.

The gentleman are rather reticent about revealing their filmography, so if anyone recognises them from the cinema or TV, please let me know.

When I was fact checking this blog entry I found that subcontinental is correct even though Africa is a continent, because this is a way of referring to Sub-Saharan Africa, though not a standard geographic term.

What I did not manage to fact-check is the name of that childhood game where you turn around as people try to creep towards you and catch them moving, when they should be standing still in best weeping-angel tradition. However, a reader of this blog has reliably informed me that it is "Grandmother's Footsteps".

Haddon Hall - Panoramas and Photospheres

A brief period of R&R away from Balintore Castle, led me to visit Haddon Hall in Derbyshire. In fact the main target of my expedition was Chatsworth House, but I discovered Haddon was so close that I decided to kill two birds with one stone, or should that be the one tank of petrol. :-)

So the visit to Haddon was totally unexpected, nay serendipitous. At the back of my mind, I had some facts about Haddon tucked away (e.g. the famous long gallery), but apart from that I knew nothing.

What drew me to Haddon is reputedly that it is the most complete medieval manor house in the UK, with untouched Tudor and Elizabethan additions. So does the building serve the historical authenticity as promised? I reckon it does, though as I have probably commented here before, authenticity is a very nuanced topic, and almost nothing is "genuinely" authentic.

Skipton Castle which I visited in 2022 is reckoned to be the most intact mediaeval castle in the UK, and again I would concur. However, it is nowhere near as "authentic" as Haddon, but Haddon has never been a castle, but instead was a fortified manor house. 

A 12' curtain wall was built in 1194. The licence for this wall was granted by the infamous King John, provided it was not over 12' in height and not crenellated. King John was having trouble with his bishops and was anxious that defences outside of London were kept to a minimum. Crenelations are sometimes used as a definition of a castle.

However, ironically the current Haddon does have crenellations, which were added much later for decoration. So to the lay eye, Haddon does look like a castle.

You can see from the schematic of building phases at Haddon shown at the end of this blog entry, that the earliest known fabric (1070-1250) is not much in evidence, and the majority of the building as you see it today is 14th and 15th Century. It would be unreasonable to say the building is authentically 11th and 12th Century, but the ground plan is little changed from then. It would be also unreasonable to expect wood to survive from those early days, so when do the oldest wooden beams, wooden floors and wooden furniture date from? 

To my eye, a lot of the wooden floors probably date from the 1925 restoration, but much of the panelling looks authentically "crude" which is a sign of age. The Victorians introduced hardwood panelling (e.g. mahogany and other exotic woods) of a high level of craftsmanship. Before this, panelling was mainly crudely figured in pine, with oak only being used in high class establishments.

And of course, you can just bring furniture in, and it is a reasonable assumption that the amount of authentic furniture at Haddon is extremely limited. The tapestry and dining table in the Great Hall were reputedly donated by Henry VIII. His eldest brother Arthur was raised at Haddon Hall away from London - presumably for safety. However, Arthur died of an unknown illness at the age of 15.

The real key to the "authenticity" of Haddon is based on two lucky breaks:

(1) In 1703, the 9th Earl of Rutland was further enobled to be the 1st Duke of Rutland and moved to the grander and recently renovated Belvoir Castle, as befitting his new status. Haddon was essentially mothballed and not used for the next 200 years. As one guide laughing described it: "There was no baroque makeover as nobles are wont to do after their Grand Tour and there was no garden makeover by Capability Brown".

(2) In 1925, John Manners the 9th Duke of Rutland, started his lifelong dream of restoring Haddon. Fortuitously, the 9th Duke was an historian and an archaeologist (assisting Howard Carter with Tutankhamun), and was determined that the restoration would be authentically mediaeval

A building can only be left so long before dereliction turns to ruination and fortunately the building was caught by someone with sympathetic hands. The possible parallels with Balintore did not pass me by.

So a degree of the "mediaeval authenticity" was clearly created or recreated by John Manners. The pragmatic key to authenticity, is I feel embodied in the word "recreated". There will be surviving fabric, but where that fabric is missing or damaged and has to be replaced then if the clues surviving in the building or in the historic record inform that restoration, then I would claim authenticity can be rightly claimed.

My online research to find out the extent of the 1925 restoration, reveal that it is not quite as radical as I had once expected. However, it was still inordinately expensive and took 20 years. More parallels with Balintore! :-) The Duke sold 40,000 acres of land and other estate holdings to finance it. 

A photo of the long gallery in the 19th Century, shows it is intact and looks very much as it does today. However, the Duke did re-roof the Great Hall. I suspect the Duke make the building fit for modern living, repaired the structural elements needing attention, but stuck to a period aesthetic throughout. Even with much surviving fabric, the labour was clearly immense.

To bring things up-to-date, the brother of the 11th Duke of Rutland moved into Haddon in 2016, and it is clear a new generation of responsible custodianship has begun.

I took a number of photos during my visit today, not as a comprehensive record, but as an aide memoire for myself. The day started as overcast, with sunshine appearing later through clouds. The result is that lighting conditions changed rapidly which is thrilling for photography. This is why I have three panoramas of the lower courtyard. :-)

The upper courtyard is not open to the public but could be glanced indistinctly through some rather obscuring diamond pane windows. In fact, the upper and lower courtyards once formed a larger courtyard, until the Great Hall was built in the 14th Century and divided the space.

The approach to the hall, shows the stables on the left and the hall proper on the right. The best view was from this vantage point on a bridge over the Wye. In fact, the blue sky indicates I did this on the retreat not on the approach.

Haddon Hall: the approach

What can I say about the 110 foot long gallery? It is often called "the most beautiful room in England". I beg to differ. :-) The stand out, I think, is the way light falls across the room through the large glass windows which would have been extremely expensive when they were built. And of course the setting in the beautiful Derbyshire countryside, means that one is floating above an idyllic landscape. The panelling and plasterwork are not the most ostentatious but they are refined and complete, giving the room a restrained but highly coherent elegant aspect.

Haddon Hall: the long gallery

The courtyard is a joyous mix of vernacular English architectural styles. When the UK imports foreign architectural styles wholesale, such charm often disappears.

Haddon Hall: the courtyard

Haddon Hall: the courtyard

The authentic Great Hall is the other star room in the building. It has the minstrel's gallery; a high table end with an authentic high table; and a low table end adjacent to the kitchen with the traditional wooden screen. On the other side of the wooden screen are three doors to the buttery, pantry and kitchen. All architectural text book stuff. Perhaps Haddon wrote the textbook? :-)

Haddon Hall: the great hall

Here is the first panorama (actually a photosphere) I took of the courtyard in rather dull conditions. In fact the previous partial panorama is perhaps the best shot as the sun had just come out and I took something off-the-cuff before the light went, and the angle was fortuitously the best.  The photosphere in sunshine is the middling shot! :-)

Haddon Hall: the courtyard

Given the choice of seeing just one building, then the grandeur and scale of Chatsworth wins. However, Haddon is my favourite. What I look for in architecture is charm, deep history and authenticity. Haddon has all three in spades. And most importantly of all, is that indefinable quality of homeliness: could one happily spend the rest of one's life there. Perhaps, I should make the 11th Duke a cheeky offer? :-)

1966

A friend of Balintore sent me this photo of the castle today. I had never seen it before.

It was taken in 1966 which is one of the wilderness years with nothing else in the photographic record.

Extenally, the building does not look a lot different from today, athough the turrets are in better condition here and you can see the blinds half pulled down in the drawing room. The ivy (now removed) had started to climb the walls.

Internally, however, the building was in an almost intact condition. Lady Langman, the last resident of castle before dereliction had died in 1963. In 1968 three photographs of the interior were taken, showing a small degree of internal dereliction, but chiefly that floors and staircases were starting to be removed.

Balintore Castle in 1966

So how do I feel looking at this photograph? It was not taken that far into the past, more vintage days than antique days, so it's a lesser stretch of the imagination to step inside and see the original interiors. How I would love to walk into the photo and do this.

My thanks go to René for the image.

State Banquet at Fred's

My wonderful neighbour David took pity on me and invited me round for dinner this evening at his house, charmingly called Fred's Cottage for a reason lost to time. Angus Council has recently banned all my friends from visiting me, and David picked up that the lack of human companionship was causing me to go downhill.

Our small group was literally treated to a state banquet: the first course was a watercress panna cotta with parmesan shortbread, the very dish that I knew had been served at the state banquet last Wednesday at Windsor Castle. I had been speculating what it might actually taste like, with no inkling that I would find out a few days later.

State Banquet at Fred's Cottage

I can report that it was delicious. I didn't expect a savory panna cotta let alone one with the very delicate flavour of watercress to work, but it did. David had made the panna cotta and the parmesan shortbread (à la Nigella) from scratch. Respect!

This starter and indeed the whole meal was genius: a salmon main with dauphinoise potatoes and ending with a sumptuous chocolate mousse pudding supplied by another guest.

Anyhow, I couldn't resist looking up the full menu at the actual state banquet. Wot - only 3 courses!  I would have expected a minimum of 12. State banquets since Queen Victoria have obviously gone downhill, but political correctness dictates value signalling through healthy eating and moderation. However, the after dinner digestifs are stellar.

It is nice to see the C R monogram, and the fact that some traditions  (e.g. the menu being in French) cannot be got rid of so easily.

A fellow guest suggested that actually attending a state banquet would be a dull affair. I beg to differ and wish to put it out there that I am receptive to invitations. :-)

It has not been reported whether King Charles III and President Trump made for good dining companions, but there is always someone on one's other side should conversation falter, and a back-stop of another digestif if, heaven forfend, both sides let you down.

Osbert's Scottish Baronial

In my previous blog entry, I presented Kieran's marvellous pen and ink sketch of the recently restored Great Hall at Balintore Castle. A friend called Mark said how much it reminded him of a mid 20th Century cartoonist called Osbert Lancaster. I was familiar with the name Osbert Lancaster, but had never studied his works, and Mark very kindly sent me a vintage copy of Osbert's book on the history of building interiors entitled "Homes Sweet Homes".

Osbert's Scottish Baronial Great Hall

You can can see at once how close Osbert's cartoon of the Scottish Baronial style is to Kieran's version of Balintore's Great Hall. Balintore Castle was designed in the Scottish Baronial Style, by the architect William Burn who essentially invented the style. Amusingly, all the stuffed creatures with horns look very happy to be there, but the bears are thoroughly resentful. 

Accompanying every cartoon of the different historic interior styles is some witty text by Osbert who was also a writer. I have to say that both the drawings and the text give me enormous pleasure. The drawings are charming and lightly amusing, whereas the text is savage: very much in the modern spirit of "throwing shade". Here's what Osbert has to say about Scottish Baronial:

His joshing tenet is that Scottish Baronial is pagan in its conception and I daresay he is right, although of course Scottish Baronial is also Scotland's take on Gothic, which is a style premised upon Christian cathedrals. Perhaps Osbert is saying there remains something of the heathen in the Scot? I will append the text of the Scottish Baronial article in a Rosetta Stone moment. :-)

What is fascinating are the categories and names of the interior styles. Some of these are no-longer recognised today, and some are now known by different terms. Here are the terms Osbert uses in chronological order with my modern translation in brackets where this exists.

• NORMAN
• GOTHIC
• TUDOR
• ELIZABETHAN
• JACOBEAN
• RESTORATION
• LOUIS XIV
• BAROQUE
• ROCOCO
• EARLY GEORGIAN
• CLASSIC REVIVAL
• REGENCY
• EARLY VICTORIAN
• LE STYLE ROTHSCHILD
• SCOTTISH BARONIAL
• VICTORIAN DINING-ROOM
• GREENERY YALLERY (Aesthetic)
• THE EARNEST 'EIGHTIES
• ANGLICAN
• DIAMOND JUBILEE
• TROISIÈME RÉPUBLIQUE
• ART NOUVEAU
• EDWARDIAN
• FIRST RUSSIAN BALLET PERIOD
• ORDINARY COTTAGE 
• CULTURED COTTAGE (Cottagecore)
• CURZON ST. BAROQUE
• LUXURY FLAT.
• ALDWYCH FARCICAL (Townhouse)
• STOCKBROKERS TUDOR (Mock Tudor)
• MODERNISTIC (Art Deco)
• VOGUE REGENCY (Hollywood Regency)
• FUNCTIONAL (Modern)
• EVEN MORE FUNCTIONAL (Brutalism)

I recognise the style "Curzon St. Baroque" from the illustration. This is a modern style of the 40's and 50's but looking back to the Italian past for ornamentation. I never knew this had a name before. :-) Most of the 20th Century styles Osbert describes have died. The one style that is still going very strong is CULTURED COTTAGE, this is very much alive in magazines like "Homes and Gardens" where the interior reflects a rural idyll. There is colour-washing, distressed-textures, but enough books and works of art scattered around to shout that educated, rich and arty people are in residence not yer actual country yokels.

Osbert's light touch is at one remove savage satire, but also betrays a deep love of his subject and is, in a paradoxical way, educational. One critic indicates that by stereotyping styles, in the fashion of a cartoonist, in a printed form Osbert almost defines these styles for future generations and I think this has some truth to it.

The book was first published in 1939, and when Osbert references the 'fifties he means the 1850's, and he still has the cultural memory that can distinguish the style of the 1870's from the style of the 1880's. We have lost this, so the book's time perspective is of an even greater historic value today. He casually refers to air raid precautions, and we tend to forget that life still went on throughout WWII. The book was republished in 1939, 1940, 1941, 1944, 1946 and 1948, which I presume is the date of my copy since it is the last date provided.

Osbert Lancaster is now out of fashion: he once held a much higher currency. However, I am delighted to report he is still in value.

SCOTTISH BARONIAL

THE official religion of Victorian England is usually considered to have been an evangelical form of Christianity suitably modified to bring it into harmony with a public school education and the principles of free trade, but one is sometimes tempted to wonder whether in large tracts of the country, particularly in Scotland, an older faith that blended ancestor worship with totemism did not reassert its hold on the upper classes from about the 'fifties onwards. How else can we explain the sudden appearance of those vast, castellated barracks faithfully mimicking all the least attractive features of the English home at the most uncomfortable period of its development, and filled with rank upon rank of grim-visaged, elaborately kilted forebears? What other explanation can be found for the presence of these enormous necropolitan menageries stuffed full of stags and caribou, bears and tigers-creatures which, however attractive in life, in death perform no function but the constant employment of legions of housemaids with dusters? What other reason can be advanced for the phenomenal popularity of Mr. Landseer whose only merit as a painter was the tireless accuracy with which he recorded the more revoltingly sentimental aspects of the woolier mammals?

Whether or not Scottish Baronial has its origins in primitive religion its popularity was soon assured in all classes of society. Tartan, stags' heads and faithful representations of Highland cattle in various media soon enlivened the Coburg simplicity of the Court as successfully as they added to the discomfort of cosy little villas in Tulse Hill or Twickenham where the rafters were unlikely ever to ring with the sound of the pipes. And to-day many a dusty hotel lounge, many a dentist's waiting-room with their ritual display of these old symbols, recall, like the mosques of Spain, the former domination of a vanished faith.

Kieran's Pen and Inks!

Kieran is one of the horologists who commissioned the longcase clock in the Great Hall at Balintore Castle. Getting the clock running for the Great Hall opening ceremony, was very much the icing on the cake. A ticking clock is one way in which a room can be said to come alive. If the Great Hall is the heart of the castle, then the clock is assuredly its pacemaker.

To quote Robert Burns "The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley", and Angus Council banned the opening ceremony just a week before the planned event. However, Kieran was motivated by his visit to the castle to create some art and to write a novel inspired by the building, so there is always some form of a positive outcome, even in dire circumstances.

What Kieran perhaps did not know is that I am a great fan of illustration, particularly in the representation of architecture, and his pen and ink drawings of Balintore Castle are precisely my thing. He used an ink pen of the same vintage as Balintore Castle, and believes the resulting uneven and scratchy lines produced are an integral part of the work.

The Great Hall Banquet

Castle Bedroom

The Castle

Who am I to disagree?:-)  I mentioned his charming work reminds me of that produced by superstar illustrator twins Janet and Anne Graham Johnstone whose work I feature in an earlier blog post.

Another architecture illustrator I rate is Ruth Steed who did the drawings for the first edition of the novel "I Capture the Castle" by Dodie Smith.

How architecture and atmosphere can be captured simultaneously in her "simple" line drawing below is a mystery to be celebrated.

the fictional Scoatney Hall

Dating Outlander Clock

After the first 30 seconds of the first episode of the first TV series of "Outlander: Blood of my Blood" (the "Outlander" prequel) a longcase clock is shown.

Outlander clock

I started in my armchair as there is an astonishingly similar one in the Great Hall at Balintore Castle.

Balintore Castle clock

I was told, by a horologist friend, that my clock dates from before 1770, due to the square date aperture. After 1770 round apertures become more common. I was delighted by the early date. I knew brass dials were earlier than the painted dials that we associate with the Victorian era, but did not know when they came in.  Google now tells me the transition between brass and painted dials is 1770 to 1800 - who knew?  :-)

Anyhow, the Outlander prequel begins in 1714 so could my clock be this early, or is the Outlander clock an anachronism?

Using google images, this is the closest to the Outlander clock I could find:

William and Mary clock 1795

It is pretty close even down to the silvered chapter ring and it is dated to 1695 i.e. William and Mary. So Outlander have got their props correct, their longcase clock is from the right era.

My clock has a maker "Jos Vervroegen à Anvers" a Flemish chap from Antwerp, so a simple textual look-up found this clock from 1770 in the Vleeshuis Museum in Antwerp, whose face appears an exact match. My wooden case is very much a later and inferior replacement. The revelation that my clock, £120 from a Glasgow auction house, is not of similar museum quality has not come as a major shock! :-) 

Antwerp clock 1770

I was slightly perplexed that the style of these brass clocks has not changed much from 1695 and 1770, perhaps one of these attribution dates is incorrect? 

However, the twin cherubs and crown style spandrels of the Outlander clock date between 1690-1720, so 1695 fits right in.

Branch style spandrels of my clock date between 1760-1780 which fits in with 1770. Arched dials appear after 1715, and as my clock has an arched dial, this again confirms it is later than the Outlander clock.

One friend told me that my clock dated between 1720 and 1740. I was enormously impressed by their erudition, and while my clock certainly matches the overall style of this period, the small stylistic differences in the detailing and the scanned page of the book above tell a different story.

This is precisely the same misapprehension I had when first visually comparing the Outlander clock to my own. The devil is in the detail.

I had not made the mental connection before between the "William and Mary" era, and the fact my clock is Flemish - both were imports from the Flemish region of Continental Europe. There was a time when things from the Flemish region were deeply fashionable in UK.

The opening sequence of "Outlander: Blood of My Blood" concerns the death of the chief of the MacKenzie clan and drama develops from the power vacuum created. The chief's longcase clock is stopped and covered with a cloth, a tradition which comes down to the 20th century in the form of W.H.Auden's poem "Funeral Blues" which famously starts with the line "Stop all the clocks,".

I have now watched the first 2 episodes of "Outlander: Blood of My Blood", and it is definitely growing on me, and I suspect, unlike most prequels/sequels, it has the same watchability as the original.

Here are the links I used to date the clocks. You are very welcome to continue the research.

https://ivaluations.net/antique-english-clocks-an-expert-guide/
https://www.pendulumpublications.com/latest-post/tips-for-dating-early-antique-longcase-clocks

Maeshowe Here's How

On my first trip to Orkney, a conversation with a local in a pub in Stromness, established that the most impressive neolithic site on the island was Maeshowe - a chambered cairn dating to 2800 BC. With limited time on the island, my friend Katherine and I then planned a lightning excursion to the neolithic sites ending up with Maeshowe. 

This would have been a straightforward day trip, except we had scheduled it for the middle of Storm Arwyn. It was a blizzard!

I lost my sense of direction walking round the Ring of Brodgar, and in the white-out conditions I could not see the road we had arrived on, Katherine's car or indeed Katherine.  I felt I was destined to walk round the neolithic stone circle for ever until exposure got me.

I was already fairly well advanced on the exposure front.  My desperate survival strategy was to leave the circle at various points that felt strategic and just walk outwards radially. After a certain stage I would retreat back to the circle. Anyhow, on the fifth such outwards walk, I caught a sighting of the car - phew!  Ötzi - it was not my time!

Afterwards, as we came up to the turn-off for Maeshowe, Katherine said "I'm cold, I'm wet and I'm hungry. Let's head in the other direction to Kirkwall for food".  I replied "This could be the one time in our lives, we get an opportunity to see Maeshowe. It could be now or never, do you still want to go to Kirkwall?". "Yes" came the resounding reply.

Anyhow, we thawed out spectacularly in a hostelry in Kirkwall. I had my first satisfactory experience with cheesy chips.

On my second trip to Orkney, I made certain that Katherine and I had a clear run to Maeshowe on our last day. But it was locked up! By an amazing coincidence a tour party came by with the key. "Can we join you?" we asked. "No, we are limited by numbers due to H&S and anyway, you have to buy a ticket first".

On my third visit to Orkney, my friend Scott and I looked up tickets online, but only one ticket was left!  What were we to do? Scott suggested I buy the one remaining ticket, and then to introduce him as my carer at the visitor centre.

As soon as I emerged from Scott's car at the visitor centre car park, my stage limp was already in place. Scot stayed in the car, and I had a little chat with the combined shop attendant and tour guide making sure my limp was exhibited to best advantage.

Thankfully, they were geared up for carers. Of course they could rustle up an extra carer's ticket, and the worst part is that the carer's ticket was free. I felt awful, a strong desire to see a neolithic tomb had now transmogrified into financial deception. :-( I would like to send out my eternal apologies to the Maeshowe staff in this forum.

A mini-bus took us from the visitors' centre to the mound. Unfortunately, there was still a long cross-country walk from the destination bus stop to Maeshowe proper, and I found that prolongedly maintaining the limp, created using muscular tension, was no making my leg hurt badly. Towards the end of the Maeshowe excursion, I worked out I only had to "mime" the limp which I could do simply by timing, but by that stage the damage had been done and it still hurt.

No photography is allowed in Maeshowe and indeed this is as it should be. When you have travelled a long way to experience an architectural space, why then should you dilute/taint that experience with a vulgar photograph? Taking a photograph in public is almost as bad as using a mobile phone in public. It creates a social tension. Few people want to be in a photograph and taking a photo is intrinsically contrary to a group dynamic.

I occasionally sneak in a photo as an aide-memoir or souvenir, but I make sure it is not intruding on anyone else, and often have no photographic record just for this reason. When I get a private view of a building, then it is due to the courtesy of the host, and particularly in this instance I would simply not get my camera out.

Anyhow, what I did record was a short video on the approach to Maeshowe as it had been a long time coming, and I had believed with the two previous fails that I had missed out for a lifetime. With the just one ticket remaining, I had though the third occasion was going to be yet another fail.

I would agree with the local in the pub, that Maeshowe is probably the one unmissable attraction than Orkney, even ahead of Skara Brae and the amazing St, Magnus cathedral. However, limit your expectations: the central chamber is only 5m by 5m - just the size of a standard living room. What is special is the sense of atmosphere and history.

When a group of vikings took shelter in the chamber in a snowstorm in the

12th Century, the structure was already ancient, and the newcomers left some carved runes behind. A historian's dream!

After the tour guide has done the main spiel in the interior of the cairn, the lights are switched off and a hand torch is shone askance on the walls. The runes, previously invisible, jump into existence. It is a magical coup de théâtre. I try not to do my homework before any visit and the runes were totally unexpected. I could kick myself, as I thought I had examined the interior thorough as I was determined to take full advantage of this once in a lifetime opportunity.

Maeshowe is a exercise in the philosophy of the "intactness of space". Despite a 1910 replacement roof at the very top of the central chamber, this was the same space that was also special to our neolithic ancestors. I could tell, before the tour guide explained, that the white painted arches at the top of the chamber were more recent, as arches only really came in during the Roman era.

The age-old debate is what this large central chamber and its three side chambers were used for. I was very strongly drawn to climb into the raised side-chambers (not permitted!) as it is human nature to climb into cosy safe spaces. Were these burial chambers or bed chambers? Absolutely no bones were found at Maeshowe and indeed this is the case for many neolithic long barrows. Wouldn't an historic clearing-out of tombs have left some bones?

In any case, the point is that construction is in our nature, and these ancient structures form one of the most enduring and most profound channels of human communication across time. After three attempts to answer the call, I was most definitely listening.

One of the most iconic carvings in the chamber is the charming "Maeshowe Dragon". Scott bought a badge bearing the image in the giftshop. I was quite envious, and would have bought one too had I spotted it. :-) Some sources refer to it as a lion, and that's my feeling about the creature too.


 

The Maeshowe Dragon/Lion

Maeshowe Visitors' Centre