Happy Christmas 2025

The "family update" Chistmas letter is, according to reknown and soi-disant etiquette expert William Hanson, not read and by inference, not to be sent.

So how can I persuade you to continue reading this Christmas blog entry? Well, I can promise no reference to family members whatsoever, whether over-achieving or not. Instead, I can promise you egriegous and engaging tales, exposing a villainy that would not be out of place in a seasonal pantomime. Such is the drama, that I am now determined to write the book version. Pre-order for Christmas 2026! :-)

And yes, I do make a point of reading family update letters, and not just out of considerations of etiquette. :-)

2025 has been the year of the most contrasting highs and lows for the restoration.

Early in the year, I reached out to Historic Environment Scotland (HES) for assistance in dealing with Angus Coucil, who were behaving really badly and had stopped all restoration works. The Council had not answered any of the complaints I had sent them - which they are obliged to do.

Anyhow, the reply came back from HES that there was nothing they could do, saying that people assume that as a national body they can trump a regional body, but in fact they are both "public service organisations" at the "same" level. HES said the best way forward was to create some positive publicity for the restoration project, so dutifully this is what I set out to do. We discussed an "open day" for the opening of the Great Hall, which was nearing completion.

Five weeks before the date of the planned event, I invited the CEO of Angus Council along as part of a bridge-building exercise and to verify that the event was acceptible. I also went for broke and invited all 29 of the councillors. I was emailed by one of the councillors to say that an IT system administrator for the Council, had contacted her to say that she had an email from me held in their quarantine system, so she got in touch to find out what was happening. So whether Angus Council regard me as "mad" or "bad" is uncertain, but they have definitely classified me as "dangerous to know". I have still to find out whether my emails to all the concillors were quarantined, but the evidence does suggest blanket censoring.

Lovely articles appeared in the Glasgow Herald and in the Dundee Courier, about the restoration and the open day event. A journalist friend said I could not have got any better publicity.

A week before the event, and notably a day after the Courier article, a certain Council officer banned the open day, and then banned the evening banquet to which I has invited 40 guests. The guests were lovely friends and neighbours who had supported the restoration over the years. I was devastated.

I had dreamed about a celebration event on opening up the Great Hall for decades, though as a realist, I realised it might not happen in my lifetime. You can imagine how I felt dismissing all the volunteers, sending out cancellations of the 550 free tickets, and sending out cancellations of the banquet invites. Architectural experts from all round the country has taken time off work, to speak at the opening event.

On the day of the cancelled event, the Council sent in a police raid to ensure that nothing was taking place. The police entered the building without my permission, and I collapsed with the shock. Sometime afterwards, I got a letter from Angus Council's legal department saying the open day event had taken place with members of the public attending, despite the fact I had promised that it would be cancelled. You're damned if you do; you're damned if you don't. I don't know how you are meant to respond to this madness?

A few days after the date of the open day, the Council imposed a ban on anyone entering the building, not even my friends are allowed to come in. So at present, I am the only person rattling about in this huge building, and I am missing my friends like crazy. It is a veritable travesty of how the castle is intended to function. Now the Great Hall is restored I woud have organised some festive seasonal events. Angus Council really is the Council than cancelled Christmas.

Some lovely friends in Norfolk have invited me for Christmas so I won't be spending it on my own at the castle, but I did initially have to turn them down as the Council shenanigans would not allow me to get away in time. In the end, I cut the Norfolk trip right down to a few days, to make it possible.

Christmas cards at the castle

It was lovely in any case to put up my Christmas cards in the Great Hall: the first time I've really had a place at the castle to put up my cards. I notice that some of my friends, with their own restoration projects, have produced their own cards. I am missing a trick. I have pictured Reveseby Abbey (the Hollis family) and Brough House (friend of Balintore, Mark!).

Revesby Abbey Christmas card

Brough House Christmas card

Given the massive onslaught of Angus Council at the moment, we have largely just been doing finishing-off stuff. I have been particularly pleased with the recent work on the linen cupboard in the basement. This has been restored for a long time, but we just chucked things on the floor as a storage space - hardly satisfactory. Gregor and Gavin have now waxed the floor with a tinted wax-oil and built bespoke items of furniture to fit the space - critical for small rooms. The plan is to use these units to store bulk quantities of vintage and antique crockery and cutlery etc. that I have obtained second-hand in order to feed the multitude on high days and holy days. I hope that one day the Council will see sense, and that these can be used.

the linen cupboard with bespoke furniture

The unit on the left is made from the pulpit of Lochee Parish Church in Dundee (eBay £100) and a antique bookcase (£10). I have installed an initial 80 or so plates just for the sake of morale. I have not checked the exact numbers yet, but I suspect I have a matching service for 200+. That would be some banquet!

plates in the left hand unit in the linen cupboard

The unit on the right is made from the same pulpit, a pew from the same church and the worktop of a school science bench. You can see the filled bunsen burner holes. The worktop was the last remaining one of a set of Iroko ones I purchased. We didn't want to cut it up, and when I measured the wall-space in the linen cupboard, I realised the worktop could be installed whole so it was time to use up that asset! Believe it or not, the doors are 4 inches thick!

Anyhow, I hope you all have a great Christmas and I wish you all best wishes for 2026!

Tiling on up!

Gavin has done an amazing job tiling a mini kitchen in a servants' room in the basement of the castle. He finished today, using a remaindered job lot of terracotta tiles that I located on eBay.

tiling completed

Hopefully the brick-like quality of the tiles engenders a period servant-vibe. Historic interiors can be decimated, in my opinion, by inserting modernist kitchen units. What is certain is that in 15 years time the modernist kitchen units will no longer look modernist, and will need ripping out. The ethos at Balintore is "restore once, restore properly".

I had a hard job persuading Gavin that the tiles should go above the bottom of the kitchen units, then above the top of the kitchen units, then to the top of the window frame. :-) I reckoned that taking the tiles to the ceiling would be too over-powering and interfere with any coving, but framing a cuboidal volume in which the kitchen sits, acts to zone and then characterise the space. Fortunately, when Gavin called me in at each decision point, it was pretty clear which way to go.

Gavin initially wanted to stop here

before the tiling began

Gaving suggested using some teracotta tiles when tiling a shower in the adjacent room to tie together the look, and I very much agreed with this. However, the bone-coloued crackle-glaze tiles which are also going to be used are a completely different size, and we worried about the clash. Gavin left a trial layout sitting on the worktop this afternoon, with teracotta bands dividing areas of bone tiles. What do you reckon? 

potential mixed-tile layout for shower

Surprisingly enough, because the zones are very different colours, I don't think the different tile sizes matter!

Preaching from the Converted

Is hard to believe that this classy item of furniture below is a composite of a £10 bookcase (top-half) from Curr and Dewer auction rooms in Dundee and a converted pulpit (bottom-half) from Lochee Parish Church in Dundee. Even my builder Gregor was pretty chuffed today at how his little carpentry project has worked out.

In antique circles, such an item is known as a "composite" and is generally frowned upon as being an inauthentic mongrel or indeed a Frankenstein's Monster of the furniture world. :-) Prices are correspondingly low.

However, in my view, you cannot put a value on re-using the beautiful work of ages past and building something unique that is a perfect fit for a rather low-ceilinged room in the basement of the castle. If you want to see the unit being assembled from its parts, see my previous blog entry here.

Make It Until You Fake It

While Angus Council has banned banquets of any form at Balintore Castle, one must I feel, be ready for the call when neither budgetary contraints nor bureacracy inhibit lavish largesse at scale.

To that end, over the years, I have amassed a few hundred place settings from auctions up and down the land. I look for large matching sets at bargain prices. What prompted the hunt was an emergency need for place settings, so reluctantly I popped into Birmingham IKEA en route to the castle and bought 100 plates, 100 bowls and 100 side-plates. So while the shopping trip was successful, I felt that I had failed in not biding my time and neither buying antique nor vintage, and ever since then, I have kept my eyes peeled. 

I now need somewhere to store this tableware. Large kitchen cupboards tend to go for a fortune at auction, whereas bookcases go for a pittance. The solution therefore is to buy a bookcase to use as a kitchen cupboard. A couple of weeks ago, this deceptively large bookcase came up for auction at Curr & Dewer in Dundee.

bookcase in auction catalogue

The catalogue picture was too fuzzy to know if it was genuinely Victorian or reproduction, but I could always just put a low bid on, and indeed I was delighted to bag it for just a tenner.

bookcase in Balintore drawing room

Back at the castle, a brief examination showed it is 19th Century and solid oak - hurrah!

The unit is 4'6" height and I wanted it raised off the ground so one is not scrabbling about at floor level to access the bottom shelf. The problem is that the basement room where the unit is being put is only 6'6" high so it could only be raised by 2'. Normal kitchen base units are 3' high, so something bespoke would have to be built underneath.

I suggested some beautiful Victorian billiard table legs on eBay which could be cut-down. Gregor suggested cupboards underneath instead which made more sense. We then went on the hunt for reclaimed cupboard doors in the castle. I have quite a collection. Sadly, the doors all are around 3' high.

Then it hit me. In 2020, I had bought the old pulpit from Lochee Parish Church in Dundee along with other bits-and-bobs. We had used a lot of the bits-and-bobs, but nothing from the pulpit. Perhaps some of the wonderful carved panels from the pulput could be used as doors?

carved panels from Lochee Parish Church pulpit

Sadly the panels in the photo above are too large being 3' x 3'. However, rummaging around we found two matching panels 2' (W) x 3' (H). If we turned these sideways and used some other carved details we could make the front of a base unit for the bookcase.

pulpit panels reformed into new cabinet

Above is the result at the end of day 1 (i.e. today) of building this base unit. To my eye the pulpit makes an incredibly convincing cabinet, almost like it never had a past as anything else. Gregor used cock-beaded tongue-and-groove panelling from the pulpit to make the sides of the cabinet.

rear of Gregor-faked antique cabinet

You can see from the rear of the cabinet that the framework is entirely modern, but Gregor is making it until he fakes it as an antique piece.

I now reckon the 3'x3' carved panels could make excellent (kitchen) cupboard doors on the same theme. However, Gregor loves the antique carvings so much he wants them on the wall as pictures! :-)

The moral of the story is that sometimes you have to wait a long time before using reclaimed materials. However, when that rare and right opportunity arises, the joy of recycling quality workmanship and creating something of beauty that will serve a useful purpose into the future, is deeply rewarding.

Coving Schmoving

As my eyes run over the interiors of the newly restored rooms in the basement of the castle, I am most discomforted by the lack of coving. To my eyes, a sharp 90 degree angle between the wall and the ceiling is the biggest "tell" that this is a modern interior rather than an antique one. 

The basement suffered the most water damage, so many of the rooms were back to bare stone walls and bare earth floors, so there was no coving to preserve or copy, and we have restored so far without coving. However, coving on each floor of the castle is generally the same, and there were some surviving sections in the basement, particularly in the butler's pantry, so there is little issue as to the style of what we should be puting back.

We are moving towards completion with the female servant's sitting room and as there is zero surviving coving in here, I realised that what we put back didn't have to be a exact match for anything, but just had to capture the right feel.

There is a little coving in the adjointing circular turret room so this was a good start. I do not know if there is any systematic way of descriping coving, but I would describe this as "cut, in, cut, out, in, cut". So going from the bottom to the top, you say if there is a sharp edge ("cut"), a curve that goes in ("in") or a curve that goes out ("out").

surviving coving in basement turret room - "cut, in, cut, out, in, cut"

Gregor alerted me to the fact that Screwfix does coving. I was somewhat surprised, but perhaps sourcing coving was going to be easier than I expected? It turns out Toolstation and B&Q do coving as well. Doing some internet research revealed most of this coving is manufactured in Slovakia by a Belgian company called Orac, and that this coving is actually plastic. Plastic is not an issue for me, geting close to the original coving shape is.

In the whole Orac range, only two covings were "cut, in, cut, out, in, cut" : C325 Manoir (£25.42/m)  and CB503N (£7.42/m) . Gregor reckoned the female sevants' sitting room would need a staggering 40m of coving. Identifying these 2 products took a whole evening of looking at literally hundreds of different coving shapes. It was a whole new world. It seemed like either would do, so the one that was under a third of the price of the other was the obvious candidate. However, Gregor advised getting samples before going ahead. I am so pleased I did!

C325 | Manoir

CB503N

The cheaper coving was made from something just a little better than polystyrene - I could make a mark with my thumbnail and the mouldings looked weak and did not have the same light and shade effect as the more expensive moulding where the "cut" in the centre was quite distinct. It would appear the term for this is "fragmented" coving.

Oh noes, the more expensive coving was the only one I was happy with, not only was the cut correctly in the centre but the cut showed up clearly and also I could not stick my thumbnail into this coving. I had to re-evaulate the situation.

It is the cut that makes coving look classy, and the more expensive coving showed clearer light and dark areas, and at the end of the day, that is what coving is i.e. it is to create classy patterns of light and shade. Perhaps, I should look for a plaster product and even though fewer patterns would be available off the shelf, I could locate a mould that maybe was not exact but had all the key elements of a quality Balintore cornice.

I located a plaster coving company online called The Plasterware Store, and indentified two products of theirs that channeled Balintore:  c32 | Hampshire and c15 | Gothic . The first is an almost literal channel but with a reversed ogee curve (i.e. in and out swapped in one location) ie, "cut, in, cut, in, out, cut".  The second channels the gothic quality of Balintore but is not an original design in any way. The samples that arrived through he post were a totally different animal to plastic coving. While they are a little too large, I would be happy to install either, but will go with Hampshire in the female servants sitting room.

top-to-bottom, left-to-right: Gothic, Hampshire, Manoir, CB503N

left-to-right: Gothic, Hampshire, CB503N, Manoir

So, the lesson here is to go for plaster coving not plastic. It appears to be superior on all fronts and not as expensive as the rigid plastic mouldings. It also supports the local plasterworks throughout the UK. Going for polystyrene mouldings is the cheapest option of course, but the appearance is poor in my opinion.

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.