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The Grand Opening #5

THE GRAND OPENING:     And so we move into 1971 and the preparation of Hoar Cross Hall so we could open it to the public by Easter. During the run up to buying the house my dad had been buying furniture, carpets and paintings like crazy and I remember our previous home being jam packed with chaise longues, sideboards and carved chests as well as all the suits of armour that he already had. This furniture was now set out in all the rooms. My mum’s collection of Victorian costumes were on display in the Ballroom as well as my dad’s collection of silver plated ‘display’ armour, which hung around the panelled walls; the suits of armour and the many painti...

Suits you Sir! #22

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 laying them o...

Whodunit in the Library? #24

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 perhaps s...

The Grand Opening #5

  A few months after moving in preparations at Hoar Cross Hall were going well, so that we could open it to the public by Easter.  During the run up to buying the house my dad had been buying furniture, carpets and paintings like crazy and I remember our previous home being jam packed with chaise longues, sideboards and carved chests as well as all the suits of armour that he already had. This furniture was now set out in all the rooms. My mum’s collection of Victorian costumes were on display in the Ballroom as well as my dad’s collection of silver plated ‘display’ armour, which hung around the panelled walls; the suits of armour and the many paintin...

Suits you Sir! #22

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 laying them out in the basement, he...

Whodunit in the Library #24

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 perhaps saw more of it than my brothers, w...