I SEND the family WhatsApp group a spectacular photie of the first snows of winter on Ben Wyvis, anticipating a lyrical response.
My wife messages back: ‘I’m not coming home until the heating’s turned on.’ Ah, well. As I will have beaten my personal best for ‘latest central heating switch-on date’ by a distance, I can afford to reply in soothing textual reassurances.
The days are drawing in and rural evening entertainment options are narrowing to prayer groups and cribbage when, stab me vitals, an invitation appears, hand-delivered under the back door, no less—or perhaps handdived through the puddle outside it, as they say of scallops in some classier inns.
Anyway, a bona fide excuse to escape the ice house for a warm community hall is welcome, even if it’s to hear that the Earth is flat. Yup, that old red herring. If you thought Aristotle and Pythagoras put this one to bed, think again.
The audience numbers about 14 souls. A sheepish neighbour emulates the green-exit-sign man as I spot him. One down, 13 to go. Some faces I recognise, but they stare unseeing into the middle distance, coat collars turned up and hands thrust deep into pockets.
Later, as with certain Soho cinemas, no one will admit to having been here tonight, with the exception of the sole occupant of the front row, who shows all the signs of being a committed Flat Earth disciple.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der November 22, 2017-Ausgabe von Country Life UK.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
Bereits Abonnent ? Anmelden
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der November 22, 2017-Ausgabe von Country Life UK.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
Bereits Abonnent? Anmelden
Give it some stick
Galloping through the imagination, competitive hobby-horsing is a gymnastic sport on the rise in Britain, discovers Sybilla Hart
Paper escapes
Steven King selects his best travel books of 2024
For love, not money
This year may have marked the end of brag-art’, bought merely to show off one’s wealth. It’s time for a return to looking for connoisseurship, beauty and taste
Mary I: more bruised than bloody
Cast as a sanguinary tyrant, our first Queen Regnant may not deserve her brutal reputation, believes Geoffrey Munn
A love supreme
Art brought together 19th-century Norwich couple Joseph and Emily Stannard, who shared a passion for painting, but their destiny would be dramatically different
Private views
One of the best ways-often the only way-to visit the finest privately owned gardens in the country is by joining an exclusive tour. Non Morris does exactly that
Shhhhhh...
THERE is great delight to be had poring over the front pages of COUNTRY LIFE each week, dreaming of what life would be like in a Scottish castle (so reasonably priced, but do bear in mind the midges) or a townhouse in London’s Eaton Square (worth a king’s ransom, but, oh dear, the traffic) or perhaps that cottage in the Cotswolds (if you don’t mind standing next to Hollywood A-listers in the queue at Daylesford). The estate agent’s particulars will give you details of acreage, proximity to schools and railway stations, but never—no, never—an indication of noise levels.
Mission impossible
Rubble and ruin were all that remained of the early-19th-century Villa Frere and its gardens, planted by the English diplomat John Hookham Frere, until a group of dedicated volunteers came to its rescue. Josephine Tyndale-Biscoe tells the story
When a perfect storm hits
Weather, wars, elections and financial uncertainty all conspired against high-end house sales this year, but there were still some spectacular deals
Give the dog a bone
Man's best friend still needs to eat like its Lupus forebears, believes Jonathan Self, when it's not guarding food, greeting us or destroying our upholstery, of course
