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Anyone for tennis? #62

With the summer season well and truly upon us and Wimbledon in full swing, I thought a blog about tennis might be in order!  The game of tennis first started in the Mediaeval days and involved hitting a ball with a bare hand and later with a glove.  By the 16th century the glove had become a racquet and the game had moved to an enclosed playing area and the rules had stabilized.  This was known as ‘real tennis’.  The word tennis came into use in English in the mid-14th century from French, via the Anglo-Norman term Tenez, which can be translated as 'hold', 'receive' or 'take', a call from the server to his opponent indicating that he is about to serve....

Anyone for Tennis? #96

With the summer season well and truly upon us and Wimbledon almost here, I thought a blog about tennis might be in order!  The game of tennis first started in the Mediaeval days and involved hitting a ball with a bare hand and later with a glove.  By the 16th century the glove had become a racquet and the game had moved to an enclosed playing area and the rules had stabilized.  This was known as ‘real tennis’.  The word tennis came into use in English in the mid-14th century from French, via the Anglo-Norman term Tenez, which can be translated as 'hold', 'receive' or 'take', a call from the server to his opponent indicating that he is about to serve....

Suits You Sir! #23

SUITS YOU SIR! When we moved to the 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...

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...

The War Years and Beyond #38

THE WAR YEARS AND BEYOND:         During the Second World War, life in country houses changed dramatically.  It was no different at Hoar Cross.  The flower borders on the main lawns were turfed over to reduce maintenance and vegetables were grown in areas formerly restricted to flowers.  Evacuees from Birmingham came to stay for the duration of the war and they lived in the basement, as it was considered to be the safest place.  I imagine that they must have been in the care of the servants as they were living amongst them but it must also have been quite exciting for them to move from a bombed out city to the relative safety of the countryside, althoug...

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...