IN the summer of 2000, a full-page article in a Sunday newspaper advertising the sale of ‘The finest Tudor Manor in Devon’ caught the eye of Nigel Wiggins. He had made a specialism of buying up tired buildings in London— particularly those of strong architectural character—and renovating them for pension-fund clients. He arranged a visit to the house in question, more out of interest to see it than with any intention of being the purchaser, but Holcombe Court captured his imagination and, against all good sense, he made an offer to buy it.
His offer was unsuccessful and the house was set to become a wedding venue until the buyer changed his mind. The estate agent charged with selling it returned to Mr Wiggins shortly before the property was put back on the market. He was determined not to miss out a second time and the sale of the house, with just under 100 acres of land, went through. As Mr Wiggins explains: ‘On August 1, 2001, I awoke in a strange bed in an empty house, having completed the purchase the day before, with almost my only piece of furniture being a comfortable deck chair in the corner of an otherwise empty Great Hall.’ In the 19 years since he has worked slowly and steadily with a small and highly skilled team of specialists to revive the house and gardens as a home.
Early on in the project, he was shown a copy of the article on Holcombe Court published by COUNTRY LIFE on January 9, 1915. It encouraged him to hope that the magazine would return to record his development of the house. In most circumstances, the coverage of such a restoration would form the final section of a single article detailing the entire history of the building. This, however, is a project slightly out of the ordinary.
Denne historien er fra June 03, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra June 03, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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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.
