Many of the UK’s grand stately homes rely on entrance fees to pay for their upkeep. And their owners have long recognised that a few random yuletide decorations, plus the occasional fir tree draped in flashing lights, are a sure-fire way to boost winter visitor numbers and income. After all, we Brits are creatures of habit – we’ve seen all of this a hundred times before but, what the hell, it’s the season of goodwill so we’ll gladly pay to see it again somewhere else. And so it was that this year Mrs P and I ended up at Burton Constable Hall.
Located in a sparsely populated corner of East Yorkshire, Burton Constable Hall dates from the mid-16th century. A couple of hundred years later it had become unfashionable, and so was substantially redesigned and rebuilt in the 1760s by owner William Constable (1721-1791) to give us the building we see today.
The exterior of the Hall is impressive, but not nearly as spectacular as its interior. Some of the stately homes we have visited over the years at Christmas have gone so overboard with their seasonal decorations that the rooms themselves have almost become invisible. You could be anywhere, with the merits of the buildings becoming lost beneath a mound of gaudy yuletide bling.
Fortunately this was not the case at Burton Constable, where the grand rooms remained the stars of the show. The Christmas trees – often tucked away unobtrusively in corners – and other decorations we encountered were well executed without being excessive, discreet seasonal additions that in no way detracted from the Hall’s Georgian elegance.
Having said that, we look forward to returning at another time of year, when Christmas is but a distant memory, to focus exclusively on Burton Constable’s history, architecture and design. This is an exceptional building, regardless of the season of the year, and deserves to be better known than appears to be the case.
And with that, it’s time for me to sign off for 2023 by thanking anyone out there who ever reads or comments on this blog. Your continuing interest has helped keep my spirits up throughout another challenging year. It’s my absolute pleasure to wish you a Merry Christmas, and Happy & Healthy New Year. See you in 2024, guys!
The Bluebell Railway is without doubt a gleaming jewel in the crown of the UK’s heritage railways. Its locomotives puffing serenely through 11 miles (18 km) of rolling countryside in the county of Sussex, the Bluebell is thought by many to be England’s best steam railway experience. So, when we were in the area earlier this year, we decided to check it out for ourselves.
Railway nostalgia is big business in the UK. There are, astonishingly, well over 200 “minor and heritage railways” operating across the country as a whole. According to the government’s Office of Rail and Road (ORR):
“Minor and heritage railways are ‘lines of local interest’, museum railways or tourist railways that preserve, recreate or simulate railways of the past, or demonstrate or operate historical or special types of motive power or rolling stock….Much of the rolling stock and other equipment used on these systems is original and is of historic value in its own right. Many systems deliberately aim to replicate both the look and operating practices of historic former railways companies.
The Bluebell Railway, which is named for the profusion of bluebells that flower in the area each spring, fits the ORR’s definition perfectly. It is Britain’s oldest preserved standard-gauge railway, and is run by the Bluebell Railway Preservation Society. The Society ran its first train in August 1960, less than three years after British Railways closed the line to “regular” rail traffic. A ride from one end of the line to the other takes around 40 minutes, but most passengers break their journeys to explore what each of the stations along the route have to offer.
The star attractions are, of course, the vintage steam locomotives. They seem to have personality, not something I would ever say about 21st century railway technology. And don’t you just love the sooty smell of a locomotive in full steam, a smell from another era that seems out of place in our sanitised modern age. The Bluebell Railway Preservation Society has more than 30 steam locos under its care, making this the second largest collection in the country after the National Railway Museum at York. We were pleased to see – and smell! – several in action during the course of our visit.
In addition to the wonderful locos there are nearly 150 carriages and wagons, most of them dating back to the first half of the twentieth century. As well as riding some of the rolling stock as it trundles along the Bluebell’s tracks, it’s also possible for visitors to get up close and personal with more examples in the huge loco sheds and carriage workshop.
But it’s not just the rolling stock that offers glimpses of a lost world. The stations have been restored to show how they would have looked at different stages in the line’s history: Sheffield Park Station reflects the 1880s, Horsted Keynes Station the mid-1920s and Kingscote Station the 1950s. As a result, the Bluebell Railway and its stations have been used as locations for scenes in movies including Muppets Most Wanted, and period TV dramas like Downton Abbey.
A souvenir of the Downton Abbey period tv drama!
In common with every other heritage railway, the Bluebell is dependent on volunteers. There are some paid staff, but most of the people keeping the show on the road do it for free, and presumably for fun.
The cynic in me says that the anachronistic steam locomotives are little more than “big boys’ toys,” while the guys (and it is, I think, mostly men) who dress up as train drivers, guards, signal operators and buffet car assistants are a bit like Peter Pan, kids who never quite managed to grow up!
But where’s the harm in that? The Bluebell has clear educational value, it boosts the local economy by attracting tourists and keeping them entertained, and enables ordinary people to play an active role in a wider community venture. Everyone’s a winner on the iconic Bluebell Railway.
By late November Christmas is already impossible to avoid. Television channels are boasting endlessly about their holiday schedules. Shops are groaning under the weight of seasonal goodies. A yuletide wreath, laden with holly and ivy, is proudly displayed on a neighbour’s front door. And in stately homes up and down the land the Christmas lights and decorations are going up, sending their electricity bills through the roof. But no worries – we, the paying public, will cover the cost!
Castle Howard is a grand stately home in North Yorkshire. Dating from the 18th century, it’s said to be one of England’s finest historic houses, set in a parkland dotted with lakes, fountains, temples and statues. Twelve months ago we were fascinated by a television programme revealing the extraordinary lengths to which its owners go to attract hordes of additional visitors during the Christmas season, so this year we vowed to check it our for ourselves.
Every year Castle Howard selects a new theme for its Christmas celebrations, and in 2023 it is Peter Pan’s turn to put on a show. Here’s what the visitor guide has to say about it:
This year we fly to Christmas in Neverland, entering the world of J M Barrie’s boy who never grew up. It’s a world of sparkles and shadows, of pirates and mermaids, of shaggy dogs and Darlings, where dreams and reality fade imperceptibly from one to the other. Where better to find the story of daydreams made real than in the fantastical surroundings of Castle Howard?
Source: Printed guide for visitors to “Christmas in Neverland” at Castle Howard
Wow, they don’t lack ambition, do they? And modesty’s clearly not their strong point either! But is all this hype justified by the reality of Castle Howard’s extravaganza? Read on and find out.
Sadly, things don’t start well. We’ve already bought timed tickets over the internet, which should allow us to walk straight in at our allotted hour. But when we arrive queues are snaking out of the entrance into the courtyard, and it’s 30 minutes or more before we can get out of the cold and begin our tour.
My cynical outlook on life quickly leads me to conclude the underlying problem is greed, too many tickets sold in a feverish attempt to make as much money as possible. As it happens, a friendly member of staff suggests the problem is a coach full of visitors that has arrived late and thrown the rest of the day’s schedule into disarray. Hmm, OK, sounds plausible…maybe.
But anyway, all things must pass, and in due course we get into Castle Howard and begin our exploration of Neverland. And now I have a confession to make…Peter Pan’s never appealed to me! Don’t know why, but the concept of a perpetual child, his fairy companion and random pirates, Lost Boys and crocodiles leaves me cold.
On the deck of the Jolly Roger, Captain Hook’s pirate ship
So although a series of more than a dozen extravagantly dressed rooms and other spaces are designed to take the visitor chronologically through the Peter Pan story, it doesn’t really work for me as I’ve never read the book or seen the film. I must therefore judge what we see at Castle Howard simply as a visual spectacle, regardless of the links to J M Barrie’s tall tale.
The mermaid’s bedchamber
As it happens, the spectacle is, well…spectacular. Although I don’t know the story I can appreciate the tableaux depicting it, including a bath-time scene, the deck of a pirate ship, a mermaid’s bedchamber and a dining table set out with a lavish Christmas feast.
Bath time!
With a nod in the direction of the Disney movie, there are also some action scenes created through the projection of moving shadows on to brightly lit walls and ceilings. These include the fairy Tinker Bell flitting hither and thither, and Peter Pan and the evil pirate Captain Hook fighting with cutlasses. It’s all very entertaining, enthralling visitors both young and old. At one point an enormous shadow crocodile appears out of nowhere and snaps his jaws at the horrible Hook. Go on my son, do your worst!
The cutlass fight between Captain Hook and Peter Pan, cleverly depicted in moving shadows
Clearly, no expense has been spared to create a festive atmosphere in Castle Howard’s Neverland. Coloured lights and lavish decorations abound, just what we need to get us in the mood for Christmas. And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it. The world’s in a bad way right now, and an afternoon’s innocent escapism offers a welcome break from the relentless torrent of bad news that threatens to drown us all.
Table laid for the Lost Boys’ feast
Well done, Castle Howard, for this brave attempt to raise the spirits of your visitors. Even the queues didn’t spoil our day there – it’s the season of goodwill, after all, so I’ve forgiven you! But we must make a return trip at another time of year, so we can fully appreciate the house itself without being distracted by all that gaudy Christmas bling.
Murals are springing up all over my home county of Derbyshire. A little while ago I wrote about a magnificent painting of a kingfisher that had suddenly appeared on the side of a house in our local town. And just a couple of weeks later we came across another unexpected mural, this one featuring a railway locomotive in full steam.
To be fair, the steam train mural has been there since 2021, but it’s in a part of the county we rarely visit. Driving through the village, Westhouses appears totally unremarkable, and my initial reaction was to question why anyone would choose to cover one wall of its abandoned social club with a painting of a long extinct mode of transport. All of which proves how little I knew about the history of that corner of Derbyshire!
It turns out that Westhouses owes its very existence to railways. The village is named after West House Farm, but there was little if any other habitation in the area until the middle of the nineteenth century when the Midland Railway company drove a line through it to serve numerous local collieries and ironstone pits. The company needed to put in place a range of support facilities, and so in the 1870s it set about the creation of a new village, including workers’ houses, a school and a church, as well as a big engine shed to stable and maintain its locomotives.
Once upon a time railways were the lifeblood of Westhouses, but not now. Both the engine shed and railway station closed decades ago, and it seems improbable that any local people are now employed in the railway industry. However, residents remain proud of their connection with that industry, and when organisers of a community arts project searched for topics to engage local interest it’s no surprise that a steam locomotive was amongst those chosen.
The mural was painted by two artists from Leicester-based spray art collective Graffwerk. It took them five days of spraying to finish the job, and local train enthusiasts – many of whom had family connections with the Stanier 8F steam locomotive that is pictured – were on hand to make sure they got all the details absolutely right!
Trawling through social media posts dating from immediately after the project was completed in 2021, it’s clear that local residents were blown away to have such a wonderful piece of art in their village. Murals that are well chosen and brilliantly executed clearly have enormous power to bring whole communities closer together.
They are also a reminder to casual visitors such as me that seemingly ordinary places may have hidden histories that are well worth celebrating. Before seeing that mural I would never have given Westhouses a second glance, but having stumbled across it I was curious to know how and why it came to be there. So, thanks to the mural – and then the internet! – I did some research, and discovered the extent of my earlier ignorance. It’s clear there’s much more to Westhouses than I would ever have guessed, thanks to its proud railway heritage.
My last post reflected on just a few of more than 400 memorials dotted around UK’s National Memorial Arboretum, memorials commemorating individual units of the armed forces, specific wartime incidents and sundry other causes and organisations. Today, I want to focus on two further memorials to be found at the Arboretum, particularly powerful pieces designed to make us all think hard about the nature and consequences of warfare.
Commemorating 306 British Army and Commonwealth servicemen executed during the First World War, “Shot at Dawn” is perhaps the most surprising of all the memorials. At first glance a sculpture in memory of men executed for – amongst other things – desertion and cowardice maybe sits uncomfortably alongside memorials to soldiers who died bravely while fighting for their country. But, of course, these days we know much more about the workings of the human mind than they did when senior officers were making life-and-death decisions at court martials over a century ago.
Based on our understanding today, there is good reason to believe that the behaviours leading to many of these executions were a result of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) or Combat Stress Reaction (CSR). If this is so, many of those shot at dawn were not bad men. Rather, they were guys who had been psychologically traumatised by the horrors of war.
The memorial statue portrays a young British soldier blindfolded and tied to a stake, hands bound behind his back, awaiting execution by firing squad. A small disc, hanging from a chain around his neck, marks the point at which his executioners have been ordered to aim. Arranged in a semi-circle behind the condemned man are stakes, each bearing the name of a man executed in this manner during the First World War.
Artist Andy DeComyn based his statue on a likeness of 17 year old Private Herbert Burden, who lied about his age to get into the army and was later executed for desertion. It is a poignant piece of work, a reminder that simple words like “coward” or “deserter” do not necessarily do justice to the realities of life – and death – on the battlefield.
As such, it also brings to mind Michael Morpurgo’s “Private Peaceful”, an insightful novel for young adults – later made into a stage play, concert and film – that featured at its heart a battlefield execution. In my view, Private Peaceful and Shot at Dawn should both be compulsory viewing for those who seek to portray warfare as a glorious or noble activity.
Poignant in a different way is “Every Which Way“, a memorial to the evacuation of children from cities to the relative safety of rural Britain during the Second World War. The memorial remembers the evacuation of millions of children separated from their families during the conflict. It also pays tribute to the adults who made this huge logistical operation a success, including train and coach drivers, teachers, nurses, billeting offices, and the foster parents who gave the evacuees temporary new homes.
The artist responsible for “Every Which Way” was Maurice Blik, who was commissioned by the British Evacuees Association (BEA). It is an outstanding, emotionally charged piece of work.
Here’s what Blik had to say about his sculpture when it was inaugurated in 2017:
The title of the memorial was inspired by one of the members of the BEA who on seeing my initial scale model of the sculpture, exclaimed ‘That’s it exactly – we were going every which way’…With the design I hope to convey some of the confusion and anxiety felt by the child evacuees. This is not a straight forward line of children about to set off on a journey; … items of clothing are back to front and luggage is split open to symbolise families being torn apart.”
Source: Maurice Blik, writing in his booklet about the memorial and quoted in the Volunteer London Blog
I leave you with this thought: Blik’s sculpture is a powerful, brilliantly executed reminder that innocent people, including children, inevitably get hurt in wars. We shouldn’t need reminding, but the daily reports of suffering, destruction and death in Ukraine and the Middle East suggest otherwise. Have we, as a species, learned nothing? In 1969, John Lennon urged us all to Give Peace a Chance, and today his words seem more relevant than ever.
Next Sunday, 12 November, is Remembrance Sunday, when the UK reflects on the sacrifices made by men and women who have died in the service of their country. Services and ceremonies of remembrance will take place at locations up and down the country, including the National Memorial Arboretum in the county of Staffordshire.
The Arboretum opened in 2001, and exists to ensure that –
“the unique contribution of those who have served and sacrificed is never forgotten
the baton of Remembrance is passed on through the generations
there is a year-round space to celebrate lives lived and commemorate lives lost.”
I am, at heart, a child of the sixties, brought up in the era of the peace movement to the sound of Edwin Star reminding us that “War can’t give life, it can only take it away,” and John Lennon pleading with us all to “Give peace a chance“. I accept that warfare might sometimes be necessary as a last resort, the lesser of two terrible evils, but any attempt to promote or glorify it is, and will always be, anathema to me.
I therefore visited the National Memorial Arboretum earlier this year with a degree of trepidation, fearing it would be little more than a shallow, macho glorification of armed conflict, a misguided homage to the notion that “might is right”. As it happens, I had nothing to fear: taken as a whole, the memorials are broader in scope, more sensitive and more thought provoking than I had imagined. Indeed, some have little or no direct link to the military services.
More than 25,000 trees have been planted on the site, which was reclaimed from old gravel workings and measures around 150 acres (60 hectares). It currently hosts around 400 memorials to individual units of the armed forces, to specific incidents and to sundry other causes and organisations. Memorials come in all shapes and sizes, and in various materials including steel and bronze, as well as glass and stone.
The Armed Forces Memorial
The centrepiece is the Armed Forces Memorial, an imposing Portland marble installation upon which are engraved the names of around 16,000 servicemen and women who have died in the line of duty or been killed by terrorists since 1945. Inspired by monuments of prehistoric Britain, a 43 metres diameter stone structure sits atop an earth mound 6 metres high. Depressingly, there is space on the walls for another 15,000 names to be added.
The Polar Bear Memorial
The Polar Bear Memorial was the first memorial erected at the site, and was dedicated in 1998, three years before the official opening of the Arboretum. It’s a tribute to the 49th West Riding Infantry Division, who adopted their distinctive polar bear cap badge after service in Norway and Iceland in World War 2. Around its base are the badges of the regiments in the Division, and the towns liberated or defended by them. Inside the bear is a capsule carrying details of those who died, together with personal mementoes. Versions of the Polar Bear statue have been erected at towns liberated by them in World War 2.
The Submariner’s MemorialThe memorial resembles a submarine’s conning tower
Another thought-provoking memorial is that to the crews of submarines. The Submariner’s Memorial was designed by sculptor Paul Day. Its representation of a conning tower, through which a sailor gazes up longingly towards the sky, eerily conveys the sense of confinement that submarine crews must have felt every day.
The Clapton Orient MemorialSoccer boots are the clue to Clapton Orient’s game!
Some memorials, including the Clapton Orient memorial, hint at a fascinating story. Why, the casual visitor might wonder, do a soccer ball and a pair of soccer boots flank an obelisk commemorating members of the 17th Battalion Middlesex Regiment? The inscription gives the answer, telling us that “Clapton Orient were the first football league club to enlist en masse to serve king and country during the Great War.”
The club’s players enlisted in December 1914, serving in what became known as the Footballers’ Battalion. The inscription goes on to tell us that “Many [of the footballers] sustained wounds, and three of the club’s players made the ultimate sacrifice during the Battle of the Somme.” The memorial is based on an original, paid for and unveiled by Orient fans in 2011 at Flers, in the heart of the Somme battlefield.
Memorial to the Royal Army Medical Corps
It is not just members of fighting units who are honoured at the National Memorial Arboretum. One of the most striking sculptural works on display is a bronze memorial commemorating the Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC). Sculpted by Alan Beattie Herriot, it features a member of the RAMC carrying a wounded soldier over his shoulder. Since the foundation of the Corps in 1898, 29 medics have been awarded the Victoria Cross (VC), the highest and most prestigious decoration for military personnel in the British honours system.
Memorial recalling the Christmas Day truce, 1914
Another soccer-related memorial recalls the Christmas Day Truce in 2014, when British and German soldiers met in no man’s land to exchange gifts, take photographs and play impromptu games of football. For one day only these men decided to give peace a chance, and although hostilities resumed soon after, their action remains one of the most famous and inspiring encounters of the First World War. The memorial is based on a design by 10 year old Spencer Turner for the Football Association’s “Football Remembers” competition, and depicts a British and a German soldier shaking hands. Simple, but symbolic and very moving.
The Aguila Memorial to 21 Wrens lost at sea in 1941
It was not only men who gave their lives in the service of their country. The Aguila Memorial, carved from wood on a stone base, commemorates 21 members of the the Women’s Royal Naval Service (aka the WRNS / the Wrens) who were lost at sea in August 1941 when their ship the Aguila was torpedoed by a U-Boat. The Aguila was en route to Gibraltar where 12 of the Wrens were due to take up duties as cypher officers, and the other nine as wireless operators.
“Free Spirit”, in memory of more than 1,000,000 horses and mules used by the British Army during WW1
“Free Spirit” takes a very different look at the victims of warfare. Animals can be in the firing line too, and this bronze statue of a horse designed by Georgie Welch commemorates more than 1,000,000 horses and mules used by the British Army during the First World War. Most did not survive the ordeal.
Celebration of “the Bevin Boys”Celebration of the Women’s Land Army and Timber Corps
One of the notable features of the National Memorial Arboretum is that it recognises wars are fought and won on the home front, as well as on the battlefield. One memorial, for example, commemorates the Bevin Boys. These were young British men conscripted to work in coal mines between December 1943 and March 1948, to increase the rate of coal production, which had declined through the early years of the Second World War.
Another memorial marks the contribution of the Women’s Land Army and Timber Corps, and rightly so: over the course of the two World Wars over 240,000 “Land Girls” and “Lumber Jills” produced desperately needed food and timber for the war effort.
The National Memorial Arboretum is full of surprises, and gives the visitor lots to think about. Two of the most striking memorials commemorate soldiers who were executed on the battlefield during the First World War, and children evacuated from their city homes into the countryside to protect them from bombing during the Second World War. This post is already far too long, so I will write about these two very different, and very special, memorials next time.
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Musical postscript
Writing this post has inevitably led me to a period of sombre reflection. At such times I tend to find that music – particularly within the broad tradition of English folk music – is better able to capture the emotions engendered by the realities and consequences of armed conflict than mere words written on a page. With that in mind, I offer you links to two songs that mean a lot to me. I hope they speak to you too. Listen, and quietly weep.
“And the band played Waltzing Matilda” was penned by Eric Bogle, a Scottish-born Australian singer-songwriter. It describes the grim realities and consequences of war, and the short-sightedness of those who seek to glorify it. Here is Bogle singing his anti-war masterpiece:
As a noted apologist for the British Empire, Rudyard Kipling, the English poet, short story writer, journalist and novelist, is not the obvious composer of an anti-war song. Perhaps he didn’t regard “Soldier, soldier” as an anti-war song at all? I do, for it is a stark reminder not only of the brutal consequences of war for the combatants, but of the pain and suffering of those watching from afar as events unfold on the battlefield. Here Kipling’s words are sung by English folk singers Anni Fentiman and Brian Peters, to an arrangement by Peter Bellamy
Portuguese artist extraordinaire Joana Vasconcelos has been at it again. I’ve written previously about her wonderful sculptural pieces, so when we read about the 12m high, three-tiered Wedding Cake installation she’s created at Waddesdon Manor in the English county of Buckinghamshire we were determined to check it out. We weren’t disappointed.
Vasconcelos describes Wedding Cake as “a temple of love”. The art, design and architecture website Wallpaper puts it this way:
Part sculpture, and part architectural garden folly, Wedding Cake is an extraordinary, gigantic, fully immersive sculpture that fuses pâtisserie, design and architecture.
Wedding Cake is without doubt the Lisbon-based artist’s most ambitious work to date, baking in the oven of her imagination for more than five years. Clad in over 25,000 gleaming, icing-like ceramic tiles, the installation also boasts a vast array of ornaments in various forms, including mermaids, angels, candles and globes. Water spurts playfully from the mouths of dolphins, alongside ceramic cupids disporting themselves mischievously all around the circumference of this absurdly captivating creation.
The exterior is breathtakingly eye-catching, but there’s more. Stepping through intricate iron scrollwork doors, the visitor enters a colourful pavilion, a wedding chapel in which eight sky-blue columns bedecked in yellow stars support a domed ceiling designed to create the illusion of looking up at the sky. Its walls also feature sculptures of Saint Anthony, the patron saint of marriages and good luck, who was born in Lisbon.
Inside the pavilion, statues of St. James, patron saint of weddings and good luck, carrying a child in his arms
As if one floor were not enough, ornate spiral staircases lead up to the second and third “tiers” of the cake, which offer new perspectives on Wedding Cake and the woodland grove in which it sits.
Inside the pavilion, ground floorSpiral staircase leading from the 2nd to the 3rd tier
Here’s what Vasconcelos has to say about Wedding Cake –
“Many wedding cakes have pillars, columns, and tiers. In a way, my sculpture is about the relationship between these two worlds—pastry and architecture—that are not normally connected.”
Source: Quoted in the Vogue website, retrieved 24 October, 2023
Vasconcelos is clearly a creative eccentric. Fair to say, I’ve never seen anything quite like Wedding Cake before, nor do I expect to again. It’s definitely a one-off, a wacky, pastel-coloured masterpiece that is both preposterous and strangely compelling. Disappointingly, the reactions of fellow visitors were mixed. While some, like Mrs P and I, were blown away by the audacity of her creation, others weren’t convinced. “It’s too pink” said one woman, shaking her head vigorously and defying anyone to disagree with her.
Too pink? Duh! Can anything be too pink? I don’t think so. Just ask Barbie!.
Too pink? I don’t think so!
Meanwhile, another visitor was moaning that Wedding Cake wasn’t at all what she’d expected. “Didn’t you do a bit of research and look at some photos of it before you decided to come along?” I asked sweetly.
“Yes, of course” she replied, regarding me as if I’d just crawled out from under a stone.
“And doesn’t what’s in front of you look just like what you saw in those photos?” I continued, the picture of innocence.
“Yes, but it’s not what I expected.” Oh dear, sometimes I despair, I really do! One of the purposes of art is to stimulate the imagination and encourage conversation, but there are some conversations I’d simply rather not have.
But hey, everyone – however weird! – is entitled to an opinion. And my opinion is that Wedding Cake confirms Joana Vasconcelos to be an artist of rare ambition and talent. I look forward to seeing more of her work in the future.
Our visit to the south of England earlier this year was full of pleasant surprises. Not least amongst these was the discovery of an unexpected outpost of southern Africa at Leonardslee Lakes and Gardens, located on the outskirts of Horsham in deepest, darkest West Sussex. The gardens were a haven of colourful tranquillity, to which the scattered sculptures of South African artist Anton Smit added an extra, intriguing dimension.
“Ghemo Speed” amidst the colourful tranquillity of Leonardslee Lakes and Gardens
Dating back to the early 19th century, Leonardslee’s ornamental plantings have received a Grade I listing on the national Register of Historic Parks and Gardens, and have been described as “the finest woodland gardens in England.” And yet this treasure was nearly lost forever. Having been sold to “an international business man”, Leonardslee closed to the public in 2010, after which the gardens were untended and left to grow wild…until Zimbabwe-born and South Africa-based entrepreneur Penny Streeter came to the rescue.
From the late 1990s Penny Streeter (b. 1967) developed a successful business in the arena of medical staffing, winning the title of CBI (Confederation of British Industry) Entrepreneur of the Year in 2003. She made so much money that she was able to diversify her business empire, buying up a South African wine farm and estate in 2013 and a West Sussex golf club in 2016, before turning her attention to Leonardslee the following year. Her ambitions for the new venture were, and remain, high:
The present owners…dedicated themselves to restoring, maintaining and further improving [Leonardslee’s] gardens and buildings so that the public can once again experience their beauty and unique qualities…[In 2019] the gardens reopen [sic] to the public after nearly being lost after years of neglect. Extensive restoration is ongoing to protect and preserve this heritage site for future generations.
Despite the challenges caused by the pandemic shortly after it reopened, good progress has clearly been made in restoring Leonardslee to its former glory. The gardens are famed for their outstanding displays of Rhododendrons and Azaleas, which grow in a range of woodland and parkland settings. There are also no fewer than seven picturesque lakes. The overall effect, at the time of our visit, was restful and eye-catchingly colourful.
“Agape”, just one of many Anton Smit sculptures scattered across the gardens
Anton Smit’s sculptures add an extra dimension to any visit to Leonardslee, where his Walk of Life solo exhibition is described as “one of the largest sculpture parks in Europe by a single artist”. Born in South Africa in 1954, Smit is (according to his own website!) “widely revered for his overwhelming heads and monumental African sculptures, evoking themes of suffering, reconciliation, glory and sublimation.”
“The Beginning of Wisdom”“In Moment I”“The Age of Grace”
The collaboration between Leonardslee Lakes and Gardens and Anton Smit began in late 2019 and flows from a long-standing professional relationship between Smit and Penny Streeter. My guess is that both parties do very well out of the arrangement: Streeter gets to add a unique attraction to her business that sets Leonardslee apart from rival attractions, while Smit gets to showcase – and maybe even to sell – some of this magnificent sculptures.
“The Walking Man”“Faith” standing beside Leonardslee House
Yes, that’s right, many of Smit’s sculptures on display at Leonardslee are for sale. The relevant websites are, however, noticeably shy about the price of his monumental pieces, and I’m not nearly brave enough to ask! Next time, maybe?
“Madison Cloud”“Stream of Consciousness”
Meanwhile this blog, illustrated by Mrs P’s photos of our visit, will have to suffice as reminder of a delicious sculpture trail, and of the unexpected role two people from Southern Africa have had in the restoration of a significant English horticultural landmark.
You’ve probably never even heard of Fat Bear Week, which starts tomorrow, 5 October 2023! Neither had we until we stumbled across a reference to it on a television nature programme about the wildlife of Alaska. Based in Alaska’s Katmai National Park, Fat Bear Week looks at how well the Park’s brown (a.k.a. grizzly) bears are preparing for the coming winter by putting on loads of weight. It’s a competition in which the fattest bear – as voted for by the general public – is the winner.
To prepare for hibernation Katmai’s grizzlies have to add a huge amount of weight, which they achieve by catching and eating vast quantities of salmon. Adult males can put on up to 500 pounds (230 kg) during the salmon run, which they achieve by wolfing down 30 to 40 fish in a single day, for week after week. Extraordinary!
In no way can Fat Bear Week be called serious science, but beneath the surface lurks a noble purpose – to encourage ordinary people to engage with the natural world, and to understand more about the challenges wildlife faces when the seasons change.
Bear country!Even if you can’t see them, they’re probably just hidden from view, so you are advised to shout “Hey bear” loudly to warn them of your presence.
The competition began in 2014 as Fat Bear Tuesday, organised by a park ranger who got visitors to the park to vote – based on “before” and “after” photos – for the bear that had put on the most weight during the season.
Such was the level of interest that the following year the competition was extended to a whole week. The photos and voting were also made available online, together with video footage of the contenders, thus enabling the whole world – including bloggers in the UK! – to take part.
When I log on to the Fat Bear Week website tomorrow to check out the candidates and cast my vote, it will also be an opportunity to wallow in nostalgia for a while. Mrs P and I spent three fabulous weeks in Alaska in 2009, and one of the most memorable parts of our visit was a trip to Brooks Falls in Katmai National Park.
Brooks Falls is world-famous as the place to watch brown bears attempting to catch salmon that are moving upriver to their spawning grounds. It’s an iconic sight that has featured in countless television nature programmes, and experiencing it for myself has been one the highlights of my life spent watching wildlife.
Brown bears are potentially dangerous to humans, so it’s important to take care around them. Unsurprisingly, therefore, the first thing you’re told when you arrive at Brooks Falls is that you’re now in bear country. Bears rule at Brooks Falls, and tourists have to fit in.
One of the worst things any tourist can do is catch a bear by surprise, and to avoid this visitors are advised to yell out “Hey bear!” at regular intervals when following the trail to and from the falls. We did so, very loudly, and although we had many good sightings of bears – in the woods, in the river, and in and around our camp – uncomfortably close encounters were successfully avoided. Mrs P’s photos, which I’ve used to illustrate this post, give a good indication of the fun we had.
But sometimes things don’t go quite to plan. On the day we were due to fly out to continue our Alaska adventure elsewhere, I clearly remember exiting a small restroom close to where we were due to board our light plane, to be confronted, just a few metres away, by a bear emerging from the woods. We looked at one another in mutual shock and dismay! I made a hasty return to the restroom, and the bear – equally alarmed, I’m sure – retreated into the woods, never to be seen again. Wildlife encounters don’t get much better than that.
Viewed on the internet from several thousand miles away, Fat Bear Week promises to be less of a high adrenaline experience. Which is not to say that it will necessarily be without drama. In 2022, the competition was marred by attempted election fraud, with more than 7,000 fake votes being cast for a bear called Holly!
When the scam was discovered a recount was ordered, and in the end Bear 747 was declared the winner and became the official Fat Bear champion of 2022. Bear 747 was first identified as a sub-adult in 2004, meaning that he’s now in his mid-20s and clearly an outstanding representative of his species.
Hopefully Bear 747, Holly and numerous other magnificent brown bears will put on a show for me, and other followers of Fat Bear Week, in the days to come.
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UPDATE – 11 OCTOBER 2023 – The results are in, and I’m delighted to announce we have a new Fat Bear champion. The final of this year’s Fat Bear competition was between bear #32, a.k.a. “Chunk”, and bear #128, a.k.a. Grazer. Their photos show both of them to be truly enormous, but the winner with 108,321 votes (including mine!) was Grazer, comfortably beating Chunk’s 23,124 votes. Happily there has been no suggestion of electoral fraud this year, and Grazer is without doubt a worthy winner. (photos below have been sourced with grateful thanks from the Explore.org website. )
The Explore.org website also provides biographical details of Grazer, as follows
Grazer was introduced to Brooks River as a young cub in 2005. Since then, she’s become one of the best anglers at Brooks River. She can fish successfully in many locations including the lip, far pool, and plunge pools of Brooks Falls. She can chase down fleeing salmon in many parts of the river or patiently scavenge dead and dying salmon after they spawn. Grazer will also fish overnight at Brooks Falls.
Grazer is a particularly defensive mother bear who has successfully raised two litters of cubs. She often preemptively confronts and attacks much larger bears —even large and dominant adult males—in order to ensure her cubs are safe. Her behavior produced benefits beyond the protection of her cubs. In summer 2023, many other bears remembered her reputation and Grazer maintained a high level of dominance even though she was single. For example, a large adult male, 151 Walker, regularly avoided her approach. Grazer’s combination of skill and toughness makes her one of Brooks River’s most formidable, successful, and adaptable bears.
Our town is recognised by UNESCO as part of the Derwent Valley Mills World Heritage Site. The cotton mills erected along the Derwent Valley in the late 18th century witnessed the birth and establishment of the modern factory system that helped shape the world in which we live today. Belper is therefore rich in history, but in other respects is fairly ordinary, not exactly a cultural desert but boasting little of interest to the casual visitor.
So, imagine our surprise when we discovered that a large, eye-catching mural had suddenly appeared along the main road passing through the town.
Driving along Chapel Street about a month ago we were puzzled to see what appeared to be random splatterings of paint on the gable end wall of one of the houses that front the road. We assumed artistically-challenged vandals had been at work, and thought no more of it.
A few days later, we were amazed to discover the unfathomable daubings had morphed into a magnificent mural of a kingfisher. As well as the brightly-coloured bird, the mural also features magnolia blossom and a waterwheel, the latter being a reference to Belper’s industrial heritage.
The mural is the brainchild of the house owner, Steph Walsh, who thought her local area needed a boost. She told the local radio station “”When you drive into Belper and you see that expanse of grey wall, it’s screaming out for a mural…I think it will be a positive thing for Belper – it will be the first thing you see as you drive in.”
Viewed from the other direction there’s no hint of Belper’s new, exciting mural!
Steph showed great initiative by raising the money for the mural through crowdfunding. When enough had been generated she commissioned artist Sarah Yates to get her spray-paints out and do the business. Sarah has been spray-painting for 15 years, and specialises in producing spectacular murals of birds and animals. The portfolio of street art on her website shows her to be a rare talent.
So, respect and thanks to Steph for an initiative that definitely succeeds in brightening up her part of Belper, and well done to Sarah for turning Steph’s dream – which she says she’s had for 15 years – into reality. Well-executed street art clearly improves the urban environment and raises the spirits of all who see it, so let’s hope their great little project will encourage Belper to go mural-mad.
Now I'm 64 