The Holkham owner on learning to love shooting and hopes for the countryside post-Brexit
LORD LEICESTER doesn’t like smiling for photographs—he’s been selfconscious since having a brace as a teenager. Perched on the edge of a sofa in the family kitchen, dining and sitting room at Holkham Hall, he relaxes when his Irish terrier, Jupiter, springer spaniels scampi and shrimp and wirehaired dachshund Frank inveigle their way into the shot.
Converted from the audit room when Tom, wife, Polly, and their four children (Lady Hermione, 18, Lady Juno, 17, Lady Elizabeth, 11, and Viscount [Edward] coke, 13) moved into the 18th-century house in 2007, the light and airy room—white walls, brightly upholstered furniture and gigantic kitchen island—looks more like a spread from a hip interiors magazine than a page in a country-house guidebook.
‘We put a lot of thought into how we would live here,’ says Tom, as he tucks into smoked salmon and poached egg with toasted slices of Polly’s homemade sourdough bread after an early-morning Pilates class in Holkham village.
Like his ancestors, Tom, 52, has always done things a little differently. Before the 5th Earl died in 1976, without a son and heir, Tom’s grandfather, Anthony, agreed to take on the title, but remained in south Africa, instead sending his eldest son, Edward, to learn how to run the great estate before his uncle’s demise.
With 25,000 acres surrounding an imposing Palladian masterpiece—the 1st Earl and architect William Kent’s vision of a roman villa—Holkham has always loomed large on the north Norfolk coast. ‘Everybody says “you must feel this great burden of responsibility”, but my father and I never felt like that. It’s just something we knew we were going to do.’
Denne historien er fra October 25 2017-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra October 25 2017-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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Tales as old as time
By appointing writers-in-residence to landscape locations, the National Trust is hoping to spark in us a new engagement with our ancient surroundings, finds Richard Smyth
Do the active farmer test
Farming is a profession, not a lifestyle choice’ and, therefore, the Budget is unfair
Night Thoughts by Howard Hodgkin
Charlotte Mullins comments on Moght Thoughts
SOS: save our wild salmon
Jane Wheatley examines the dire situation facing the king of fish
Into the deep
Beneath the crystal-clear, alien world of water lie the great piscean survivors of the Ice Age. The Lake District is a fish-spotter's paradise, reports John Lewis-Stempel
It's alive!
Living, burping and bubbling fermented masses of flour, yeast and water that spawn countless loaves—Emma Hughes charts the rise and rise) of sourdough starters
There's orange gold in them thar fields
A kitchen staple that is easily taken for granted, the carrot is actually an incredibly tricky customer to cultivate that could reduce a grown man to tears, says Sarah Todd
True blues
I HAVE been planting English bluebells. They grow in their millions in the beechwoods that surround us—but not in our own garden. They are, however, a protected species. The law is clear and uncompromising: ‘It is illegal to dig up bluebells or their bulbs from the wild, or to trade or sell wild bluebell bulbs and seeds.’ I have, therefore, had to buy them from a respectable bulb-merchant.
Oh so hip
Stay the hand that itches to deadhead spent roses and you can enjoy their glittering fruits instead, writes John Hoyland
A best kept secret
Oft-forgotten Rutland, England's smallest county, is a 'Notswold' haven deserving of more attention, finds Nicola Venning