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Suits you sir! #24

SUITS YOU SIR!       When we moved to Hoar Cross Hall in 1970 the organ in the private chapel wasn’t working as the house had been empty for 20 years.  It was such a shame as it had been designed by Bodley, the famous organ maker of the 19th century.  The chapel itself had been added about 25 years after the house was built at the staggering cost of just under £1000!  When one of the visitors to the house said he could fix the organ, my dad readily agreed.  This chap really loved organs and volunteered his services free of charge just for the love of mending this musical work of art; my dad was over the moon!  Alas, after removing all the pipes and la...

Hoar Cross Hall - a bit of history #11

HOAR CROSS HALL - A BIT OF HISTORY:      Hoar Cross was part of Needwood Forest, the 11th century lands of Henry de Ferrers.  The land was passed down to Henry’s son and subsequent various people over the course of 500 years ending with the Webb family, around the 1730s, who bought the land and house known as the Manor of the Cross.  This was quite a large house built on a hill near Yoxall (which is the village next to Hoar Cross).  In 1740 the manor house was demolished and later the Hon. Charles Talbot bought the estate for £17,000.  Eventually it was sold to Hugo Meynell, who already owned huge amounts of property all over the county. This branch...

Rags to Riches #12

RAGS TO RICHES:     My family originated from Derby and my parents were married there in July 1952.  Mum was 19 and dad was 36 so quite a bit older.  They both lived in Derby and were very arty; my dad went to the Derby Sketching Club in his free time and my mum attended art college.  I’m not sure where they met but it was either at something art related or at a dance, as was usual in those days.  My dad was a sculptor by trade; I think his interest was sparked by seeing all the beautiful alabaster in Italian churches during the war.  After the war he set up his own business making alabaster lamps, bowls and candlesticks among other things (see header...

The haunting of Hoar Cross Hall #15

THE HAUNTING OF HOAR CROSS HALL:       (Based on a true story)   The typewriter keys clattered away as Viv wrote her story.  It was coming along nicely and she was feeling pleased with herself.  The attic room that she and her brothers had made into their ‘den’ was ideal for getting away from everybody and having some peace and quiet and she quite forgot about the time as she lost herself in the plot.  Suddenly she looked up and realised how dark it was getting; the December nights were pulling in and it was already quite dusky by 3.30pm.  Quickly she packed her books and folders away and prepared to go downstairs.  How she hated being up in the a...

Christmas High Jinks!

CHRISTMAS HIGH JINKS:     The sounds of La Golondrina floated through the air as Viv sat at the grand piano.  How pleased she was that someone had asked them to look after this fine musical instrument for a few months.  Having learned to play when she was younger, this gave Viv the opportunity to brush up on her skills as a pianist and she was thoroughly enjoying it.  The piano was in the Library and suited the room perfectly.  She could hear her father and an antique dealer talking in the Long Gallery as they haggled over the price of a painting that he was selling.  Viv gazed out of the window as she played and thought back to the Midsummer’s Eve Bal...

A New Year Calamity!

A NEW YEAR CALAMITY!      The New Year’s Eve Balls at the Hall were usually the highlight of the year.  After twelve months of hard work, especially running the Mediaeval Banquets twice a week through the winter, we were always ready to see out the year in style with a big new year party.  In those days it was always black tie for the men and long dresses for the ladies – usually around 500 people bought tickets for an evening of entertainment with a dance band, disco and a meal.  At midnight a man dressed in traditional Scottish regalia, including a kilt and sporran, would pipe in the new year with his bagpipes.  Down the Long Gallery he would slowly...