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Hysterical Productions #15

HYSTERICAL PRODUCTIONS:    By the end of 1974 we had done about 40 banquets at Hoar Cross Hall and they were still going strong. Most of the original cast were still with us but we were on our second King now and also doing our own catering and bar, whereas when we first started, we had a catering firm in to do it all. Every weekend over 200 people came to sample our Noble Brose, Roast Lambe and Saracen’s Delight and sing along to ‘I’m Henry VIII’ whilst drinking beer, wine and mead. But it was a very adult environment for 15 year old girls to work in; a few of my school friends also worked at the banquets as wenches and we were constantly being chatte...

Ghostbusters! #8

GHOSTBUSTERS!       People were always coming to Hoar Cross Hall to either hire the place or to have a look around.  In 1973, because of all the media interest in our ghosts, we had a couple of professional ghost hunters asking to stay over one night to try and find the source of the noises.  They brought cases full of recording equipment and set it all up in one of the attic rooms.  Rather them than me I thought!  Then I had a brilliant idea and went off to tell my brother Gavin all about it.  As mentioned in my first blog the attic and basement had a row of bells which the family used to summon the servants.  Before the three men arrived we spent all...

Whodunit in the Library? #26

WHODUNIT IN THE LIBRARY?       When we first moved to Hoar Cross Hall, growing up in a stately home seemed an idyllic way to live – and lots of fun if you’re a child.  This rambling old house full of empty rooms and secret doors, wild gardens and woods to explore, was in some ways a dream come true for our family, certainly for my dad.  But as we turned from children to teenagers the isolation and lack of public transport was frustrating.  Coupled with this was my parents fighting and subsequent split, living at each end of the house and battling for the house and business through their solicitors. The effect this had on me, as the eldest child who p...

Whodunit in the Library? #25

WHODUNIT IN THE LIBRARY?       When we first moved to Hoar Cross Hall, growing up in a stately home seemed an idyllic way to live – and lots of fun if you’re a child.  This rambling old house full of empty rooms and secret doors, wild gardens and woods to explore, was in some ways a dream come true for our family, certainly for my dad.  But as we turned from children to teenagers the isolation and lack of public transport was frustrating.  Coupled with this was my parents fighting and subsequent split, living at each end of the house and battling for the house and business through their solicitors. The effect this had on me, as the eldest child who p...

The Kitchen Maid's Tale #41

If you were young, free and single – oh, and very well-to-do – the 1920s were the decade to be a part of. The upper classes had lots of time on their hands and enjoyed post-First World War delights such as the theatre and jazz clubs.Not so for the lower classes, in particular a young girl who was to become the kitchen maid at Hoar Cross Hall in the 1920s. The ‘depression’ after the First World War brought stark poverty to her home and many like her. Her name was Jean Rennie, and she was extremely intelligent having won a scholarship to Glasgow University to study French and music. However, the £5 bursary she got (equivalent to around £250 in today's mo...

Ventures New! #10

VENTURES NEW We were now in our third year at Hoar Cross Hall and our lives were always busy keeping on top of the weeds and general upkeep of the house. My dad expected us children to help as much as possible, which we hated, and much of our time was spent trying to hide from him to get out of doing the chores. But sometimes we didn’t mind and we happily pulled an old trolley into the woods every now and then to collect wood for the fires and sometimes as a family we would spend a day clearing parts of the woods and grounds. My mum had hired a lady from the village to help with the housework and we had also taken on a retired chap called Mr Hickman to do som...