JANE TUCKWELL’S first job interview was at the age of 18, in the hunting field, when Col Frank Weldon, the fairly imperious director of Badminton Horse Trials, ‘rode round and round me and said “Well, young lady, I hear you didn’t do a bad job helping with the Pony Club championships. You’d better come to work for me”’.
Not many people wait 45 years for another interview, but that is what happened to Mrs Tuckwell when Col Weldon’s successor, Hugh Thomas, surprised the eventing world by announcing his retirement (after 30 years), on the Monday after this year’s event in May, and she was subsequently invited into Badminton House to talk to the Duke and Duchess of Beaufort. ‘I’d never been frightened of walking in there before, but I was then,’ she confesses.
‘I definitely thought, do I really want to do this? But there aren’t many chances to go in at the bottom—I mean, I used to go puce if Col Weldon even spoke to me —and come out at the top. I’ve been bowled over by the support I’ve received.’
Directing Badminton, the world’s oldest, richest and most famous horse trials, a major sporting event in its own right with about 160,000 plus visitors, is considered the plum job in equestrianism—Mr Thomas often said ‘I’m a lucky chap’—and speculation about his successor was rife.
In truth, no one else was in the running. The announcement that Badminton was to have its first female director in 70 years, and that it was to be the modest, discreet woman who, for decades, has calmed and charmed riders, volunteers and tradestand holders behind the scenes, has been extremely popular.
Esta historia es de la edición September 18, 2019 de Country Life UK.
Comience su prueba gratuita de Magzter GOLD de 7 días para acceder a miles de historias premium seleccionadas y a más de 9,000 revistas y periódicos.
Ya eres suscriptor ? Conectar
Esta historia es de la edición September 18, 2019 de Country Life UK.
Comience su prueba gratuita de Magzter GOLD de 7 días para acceder a miles de historias premium seleccionadas y a más de 9,000 revistas y periódicos.
Ya eres suscriptor? Conectar
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