MY husband, Sam, and his siblings grew up at Trewithen, the 18th-century house where we live in Cornwall. Their father, Michael, inherited it from his great-aunt, Elizabeth Johnstone, a formidable woman who had left a legacy of service to both the estate and to the county. From a young age, Sam knew it was his father’s hope that he would one day make Trewithen his home and run the estate. In 2015, the family celebrated 300 years of life at Trewithen and we became the 10th generation to live here. Moving to the house was as exciting as it was daunting; it has long been prominent in Cornwall and its garden is open to the public from March to September. Arriving here in 2016, we began to learn how the stewardship of a historic house works and were extremely fortunate to be guided by Sam’s father and stepmother, whose years of experience provided us with all we needed to know.
In our first year, the long views from the sash windows allowed us to absorb our new surroundings as they evolved through the seasons. We started the process of creating an estate masterplan with the brilliant landscape architect Matthew Tickner and considered what changes we might make to the interior. Our instinct has always been to rely on the past to inform our decisions, as well as preparing the house and estate for the future. With this in mind, we enlisted the help of Timothy Mowl, my favourite lecturer at Bristol University, who has written prolifically about British houses and gardens, including Trewithen. He seemed the obvious person to research and write a Heritage Statement, which we were hopeful would support any argument for proposed changes.
この記事は Country Life UK の April 12, 2023 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です ? サインイン
この記事は Country Life UK の April 12, 2023 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です? サインイン
Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
