Mark Hedges, Editor
My first car was a Mini. Its brown colour made it look like a mobile cowpat, but it hid the rust as best it could. It was a gift from a maiden aunt, who pottered around Oxfordshire in it. She wasn’t one for modish things such as a radio, so my six-hour journeys to Durham University were spent staring at the mile counter waiting for round numbers or parts of the Fibonacci sequence to appear. I used to go everywhere in it with my border terrier and to horse events (and the pub) with my great friend, Rachel. The car had some magic —40 years later, Rachel became my wife.
Levison Wood, explorer, writer and photographer
Ah, my first car—a trusty old silver Audi A4 1.9 TDi, the quintessential ride for young officers in the British Army in about 2005. At 23, I finally felt like a grown-up after years of globetrotting and zipping around Stoke in my mum’s Fiat Punto. The Audi was a charming beast, complete with torn leather seats, questionable radio reception and an unparalleled ability to guzzle diesel. I cherished those two years, navigating the back roads of Camberley and Essex with a mix of pride and mild embarrassment. Alas, she met her fate in the Colchester Parachute Regiment car park, abandoned when I deployed to Afghanistan. A bittersweet farewell to my warrior’s chariot.
Paula Lester, Managing and Features Editor
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة September 03, 2024 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
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هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة September 03, 2024 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
Kitchen garden cook - Apples
'Sweet and crisp, apples are the epitome of autumn flavour'
The original Mr Rochester
Three classic houses in North Yorkshire have come to the market; the owner of one inspired Charlotte Brontë to write Jane Eyre
Get it write
Desks, once akin to instruments of torture for scribes, have become cherished repositories of memories and secrets. Matthew Dennison charts their evolution
'Sloes hath ben my food'
A possible paint for the Picts and a definite culprit in tea fraud, the cheek-suckingly sour sloe's spiritual home is indisputably in gin, says John Wright
Souvenirs of greatness
FOR many years, some large boxes have been stored and forgotten in the dark recesses of the garage. Unpacked last week, the contents turned out to be pots: some, perhaps, nearing a century old—dense terracotta, of interesting provenance.
Plants for plants' sake
The garden at Hergest Croft, Herefordshire The home of Edward Banks The Banks family is synonymous with an extraordinary collection of trees and shrubs, many of which are presents from distinguished friends, garnered over two centuries. Be prepared to be amazed, says Charles Quest-Ritson
Capturing the castle
Seventy years after Christian Dior’s last fashion show in Scotland, the brand returned under creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri for a celebratory event honouring local craftsmanship, the beauty of the land and the Auld Alliance, explains Kim Parker
Nature's own cathedral
Our tallest native tree 'most lovely of all', the stately beech creates a shaded environment that few plants can survive. John Lewis-Stempel ventures into the enchanted woods
All that money could buy
A new book explores the lost riches of London's grand houses. Its author, Steven Brindle, looks at the residences of plutocrats built by the nouveaux riches of the late-Victorian and Edwardian ages
In with the old
Diamonds are meant to sparkle in candlelight, but many now gather dust in jewellery boxes. To wear them today, we may need to reimagine them, as Hetty Lintell discovers with her grandmother's jewellery
