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Townhouse on the Green Hotel Dublin + Albert Noonan

Bird on the Wire

A note from the Front Office Team is in our nursery floor bedroom, “We would like to welcome you into our humble residence situated in the centre of Dublin. We hope you are going to enjoy your stay with us!” We quibble with the first sentence: it isn’t that humble. We comply with the second sentence: enjoying our stay to the max. Everybody knows St Stephen’s Green is Dublin’s joint best address (sharing that honour with Merrion Square). The south facing side is home to the prestigious Shelbourne Hotel, Kildare Street Club and Stephen’s Green Club. And now Townhouse on the Green, an intimate nine bedroom hotel with two restaurants. It’s an offshoot of The Fitzwilliam Hotel on the east facing side of St Stephen’s Green. There’s also The Fitzwilliam Hotel in Belfast next to the Grand Opera House. That’s not the only northern connection.

Number 22 St Stephen’s Green was built in 1790 by the son of a farmer from Strabane, County Tyrone. Thomas Lighton made his fortune in the East India Company and invested it in (garnet red) bricks and (moonstone grey) granite. He was High Sheriff of County Dublin in 1790 and for the following seven years sat in the Irish House of Commons as MP for Tuam. Thomas represented Carlingford in the Commons from 1798 to 1800. The three bay four storey over basement under attic home he built reflects his wealth and status. It is one of a pair likely designed by the architect David Weir. In 1885, a first floor trellis ironwork balcony was added to the design of McCurdy Mitchell. Rationalised windowpanes with external blind boxes are other rare survivals from this period. The postcard worthy doorcase is full bloom Georgian Dublin: an umbrella spoked fanlight radiates over a crinoline-wide door flanked by leaded margin lights. Number 23, now offices, fully retains its 18th century fenestration.

Elizabeth Bowen wrote the ultimate hotel guide, The Shelbourne, in 1951: “Gulls, in from the river, drift and plane on the air.” They still do in this coastal capital. “Given that Number 22 was constructed as the home for the very wealthy Thomas Lighton, it incorporates many decorative features including an ornately decorated barrel vaulted ceiling over a Portland stone cantilevered staircase,” highlights Albert Noonan, Partner at NoMo Architecture. This prestigious Baggot Street based practice was responsible for the interiors of the upper floors. “Many of the rooms have upscale elegant proportions with high ceilings and neoclassical plasterwork. Luckily a lot of these features have survived.”

He explains, “Quiet luxury is how we describe our approach. We’ve used the best of materials and fabrics layered in subtle tones to create rooms that are havens of tranquillity. Nothing in any bedroom shouts at you craving its 15 seconds of Instagram fame. These rooms are easy on the eye. They are serene and calm: transitional modern furniture seamlessly harmonises with the period building interiors. Each room has a deep pile green wool carpet, oyster coloured linen textured wallpaper and long curtains with golden ochre lining and moss coloured trimmings. The Monarch Chartreuse linen mix curtain fabric with its embroidered bees and butterflies draws inspiration from St Stephen’s Green and adds a touch of femininity to the building.” O’Gorman Joinery made bespoke dark stained bedheads with green granite bedside tabletops.

Each of the nine bedrooms has an ensuite bathroom wrapped in Calcutta Miele marble. A two man shower has curved corners decorated with emerald and bronze glass Sicis mosaics. A large classic white ceramic basin stands on nickel legs. “Given the building’s origins as a residence,” relates Albert, “we wanted to provide a distinctive homely feel of a well off friend’s house rather than a corporate hotel. To reinforce this impression, paintings, prints and objets d’art are curated for every room.” Bedside books on Morocco as well as Ireland in our bedroom are a reminder that no country is just an island.

Thursday night dinner is served in Floritz, the restaurant on the piano nobile. An Asian fusion menu takes its inspiration from Thomas Lighton’s adventures in India and the Far East. Suffolk based architecture and design practice Project Orange came up with the flamboyant interior. “I am going to make a Great Golden Grog for each of you,” announces our sommelier. “It is the most complicated cocktail in Dublin! Add full bodied daiquiri to carrot infused Bacardi, fresh lime juice, cardamom and pimento muscovado syrup, and then some magic!” No cars are required after dinner: Cellar 22 is below Floritz. This cosy wine and food bar was also designed by Project Orange and uses lots of natural earthy materials to reflect its original use as a kitchen. Tonight will be fine.

“Gay days at once ephemeral and immortal. They have a pulse of their own, and a golden mist round them which it is hard to capture in cold words – they should be lived, not written about,” scribes Elizabeth. Her words resonate so strongly with us on this sun saturated Friday after Sexagesima Sunday. We asked for signs, the signs were sent. A robin and her companions follow us on our morning walk passing through Merrion Square. Bird singing at the break of day. Hallelujah. A thousand kisses deep.

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Radio Bar + ME Hotel Aldwych London

Norman Architecture

Chilli squid tempura, king prawn tempura and white miso pavlova on the sun kissed roof terrace are the only way to mark the 12th anniversary of Radio Bar. It’s the last Monday before Passiontide but the working week has to start somewhere. In reverse Philip Larkin, the roof terrace is shaped to the comfort of the first to arrive. A joyous shot at how things really are, wide fallen long. At the eastern end of the terrace, the ornate gable of neighbouring Marconi House rises like a curling swirling treble clef carved of stone. Norman Shaw at his most expressive. The western end reaches a crescendo with Suite ME, a legibly lined bass clef in glass. ME Hotel is an architectural duet of contextuality and originality. Giving the musical metaphors a rest, it’s over to Norman Foster to discuss his composition:

“The triangular site of ME Hotel was once the home of the Gaiety Theatre which was damaged in World War II and then demolished to make way for a 1950s office development. Our scheme completes the grand sweep of early 20th century buildings, repairing the urban grain of this crescent. Everything from the shell of the building to bathroom fittings was designed by Foster and Partners. The restoration of Marconi House to accommodate 87 apartments seamlessly integrates with the construction of this 157 bedroom hotel. The hotel building corresponds in height, scale and material to its neighbour. Triangular oriel windows projecting from a Portland stone exterior capture a vista of The Strand while maintaining similar proportions to Marconi House’s fenestration. An elliptical corner tower defines the end point of Aldwych.”

Outdoors and indoors, everything is as monochromatic as a keyboard. The triangle is a complex instrument in the hands of Foster and Partners. Lesser talent would find a wedge shaped plan restrictive. Instead, one of London’s most exhilarating angular interiors forms the heart of the hotel. A tetrahedron ascends in ever decreasing triangles soaring 30 metres from the first floor reception lobby to a glazed apex. Architecture as captured light is taken to a new level. White marble lines the inside of the pyramid; corridors lean against the black marbled outer skin.

The glazed apex pops up as a petite pyramid in the middle of Radio Bar: a transparent splayed metronome. Distant views are of trophy towers, all with sobriquets in honour of their outlines, reaching for the sky in contrapuntal consonance. The Gherkin, Cheesegrater, Shard, Walkie Talkie … A joyous shot at how things really are, wide fallen high. Intermediate views are of the quad of Somerset House. Close views are of the glasshouses and skylights and chimneypots in the valleys between double pitched roofs, hidden from street level by parapets. There’s nothing new under the sun, but there’s plenty to wax lyrical about Radio Bar.

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Belvedere Restaurant + Holland House Holland Park London

Sequentia

It’s where Lord Byron lusted after Lady Caroline Lamb, Richard Sheridan wined, Charles Dickens dined, Noël Coward danced, Rosalind Cubitt (Queen Camilla’s mother) came out … before being blown to bits in the Blitz (the place not the people). Holland House and Park really are together an extraordinary survival of the fragments of a country house and estate in London. The remaining three storey wing of the house is now a youth hostel for debs on their uppers and beaus with backpacks. Various public uses fill remnants of the estate buildings. Holland Park Café is perfect for an alfresco breakfast in unseasonal sunshine of egg avocado roll then red velvet lamington.

The centuries old tradition of wining and dining continues at Belvedere. A restaurant since the 1950s, George Bukhov-Weinstein and Ilya Demichev (who own Wild Tavern in Chelsea) have relaunched it with great aplomb. Archer Humphryes’ design concept for the 2020s restoration and rejuvenation of Belvedere was inspired by an unearthed Inigo Jones sketch of the loggia. Architect David Archer explains, “The design creates an authentic interior which celebrates the original brickwork and elegant proportions of the arched arcade while creating atmospheric settings for diners. Fireplaces have been introduced on both levels and there is a two sided bar that wraps around the building’s colonnade. The restaurant becomes a summerhouse from spring onwards while in the winter months it is cosy and romantic.” The architects are no strangers to high end restaurant design. They drew up the dark and mysterious interior of Hakkasan, our favourite Chinese in London.

Tapestries have replaced the Damien Hirst and Andy Warhol artwork previously hung in the interior. Terracotta coloured walls complement the exposed brick while architectural details – especially those arches – are picked out in cream. Later accretions have been removed to let the bare bones of the building shine. Jigsaw windowpanes of intersecting hexagons and rectangles echo the timber herringbone speak. On the ground floor 60 covers are placed around an open kitchen. Upstairs is a private dining room of 20 covers. It’s always been a destination establishment, but under the new ownership, the restaurant is fresher and – to use the architects’ term – more romantic. Belvedere is perfect for a wintry indoors lunch of Apulian burrata, charcoal sweet pepper and Sicilian anchovy; vegan red lentil and coconut gnocchi; and tiramisu coated with hazelnut nibs.

It all began with the well endowed Sir Henry Rich who lived up to his name. Later known as the 1st Earl of Holland, he inherited 200 hectares from his father-in-law and decided to erect stables befitting his status and estate. The existing mansion, named Cope’s Castle after its builder Sir Walter Cope, had been started in 1605 and by 1614 had wings added by architect John Thorpe. Its strong Jacobean presence – bay windows, balustrades, Dutch gables, loggias and towers in red brick and white stone – remained intact (including being Italianised by the 4th Baron Holland) until World War II. The architecture was a stylistic forerunner, albeit a more refined version, of the Norfolk Royal residence of Sandringham House. Sir Henry splashed out £4,000 on new stables which would become a ballroom with a viewing gallery (then eventually Belvedere) and orangery in the Victorian era, joined to the house by a covered walkway. The surviving pieces of built form stretching 180 metres from Belvedere to the youth hostel resemble a stage set, an appropriate backdrop to Opera Holland Park held every summer.

The last private owners of the house and estate, the Ilchester family, sold up to London County Council in 1952. Their name lives on in Ilchester Place, London’s finest neo Georgian address where everyone lives up to Inigo Jones. This part of the estate was developed in 1928 for two and three storey townhouses and villas. An entry level house will set you back £20 million. Such is the price of possession and early enjoyment. Sir Henry Rich would approve. He would also be impressed by our lunch expenditure. Belvedere doesn’t do cheap: the rich eat cake and the not so rich drink the cheapest bottle of white (2022 Sensale Grillo from Sicily: £52). Alas Sir Henry didn’t get a happy ending – as a Royalist he lost his head in 1649.

In 1986, the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea took over the remaining undeveloped 22.5 hectares of Holland Park, maintaining and enhancing the culture and horticulture. We enjoy preprandial and postprandial tours through its varied gardens. The remains of the 17th century Wilderness. The Pleasure Grounds designed by William Kent 100 years later. Green Walk planted by designer Charles Hamilton, also 18th century. Lady Holland’s 1805 Dahlia Garden. The 1876 Lime Walk replanted after the Great Storm of 1987. A 20th century arboretum. But it’s the latest addition which blows us away. The Kyoto Garden was a gift from Japan in 1991 to honour the friendship between Japan and Great Britain. In 2012, it was extended by the Fukushima Garden. Strutting among the stone lanterns, peacocks admire their reflection in the water feature. The richness of nature.

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Clarance Hôtel Lille + Aurélie Vermesse

Fire in the Sunshine

It’s been a while since our last visit to France’s fourth largest city – Paris is ever so distracting – so we’ve dusted down our previous article and spruced it up. Of course we’re back to Aurélie Vermesse’s urban oasis and a return visit to Méert Chocolaterie. Nothing tastes as good as skinny truffles. We’re pleased to see Lille is still a little frayed round the edges. A touch crumbly. Shabby chic. What’s not to love again?

Sitting on the Nominations Committee of the 2018 World Boutique Hotel Awards was our excuse to stay in five star intimate luxury in Lille first time round. No excuse needed this time. Three blind arches on either side of a gated pedimented Corinthian pilastered archway line the pavement of Rue de la Barre in Quartier du Vieux. Beyond this most enigmatic of screen walls is a courtyard aproning the façade of a gorgeous nine bay three storey stuccoed mansion. It’s Relais and Châteaux; it’s really a château.

Clarance Hôtel started life in 1736 as the home of the Count and Countess of Hespel. Hotelier Aurélie relates, “It took me more than two years to set up La Clarance as a hotel, opening in April 2015. Today, I have 30 employees, a Michelin starred restaurant and a thriving bar! The Clarance is the result of a dream that was born during a weekend at Domaine Les Crayères in Reims, a Relais and Châteaux hotel. I quit my job to go back to school and then create the Clarance from scratch!”

Beauty and simplicity form the cornerstones of her hospitality. “Baudelaire’s poetry is at the heart of our contemporary artwork and room decoration,” Aurélie explains. “Art, gastronomy and kindness are essential to my life and, I hope, to yours too. I want to share the warmth and diversity of our cuisine and the products of our region. And the light of the north that bathes our house.”

Our coterie in this corner of the ancient capital of Flanders, we’re an outré beau monde, is at home among the soignée haute monde, overlapping social carousels in slow motion, floating through the airily graceful reception rooms. A row of French windows lighting the rear enfilade opens onto a gloriously private walled garden with the tower of St Catherine’s Church as a backdrop. Fruit trees and beehives surround a waterlilies pond that would give Claude Monet a run for his money. Clarance Hôtel is so chic.

By nightfall, turndown of our light and spacious bedroom includes a handwritten card: “There, all is order and beauty, luxury, peace and pleasure. I wish you a pleasant stay at Clarance. Aurélie.” And the all important skinny chocolate truffles on our pillow. Our room is called Le Voyage, complete with map of the world headboard. It’s one of just nine top floor rooms. The other second floor rooms are Allegorié; L’Albatros, Crépuscule du Soir, Hymne, Le Flacon, Le Jeu, La Musique and Clarance. They’re all numbered. What should be room 13 is luckily unnumbered: it’s the broom cupboard. First floor rooms include Le Cygne, La Géante, L’Horloge, L’Idéal and Le Rebelle. But no À Celle Qui Est Trop Gaie or Les Métamorphoses du Vampire. There are 27 guest bedrooms in total. An illustrated book of Charles Baudelaire’s poems placed in all the rooms is a clue to their nomenclature.

A segmental arched window set in the wide dormer of Le Voyage looks over the courtyard to a pleasing jumble of rooftops and chimneys. Directly below are seats perfect for enjoying a nightcap of Muscadet Côtes de Grandlieu 2015 from Loire Valley under the moon rapt in idle reverie. Seven years will dissolve into the thin evening air before we get to repeat the experience once again.

There were a lucky 13 categories in the 2018 World Boutique Hotel Awards: Beach or Coastal; City Explorer; Classic Elegance; Culinary Excellence; Family; Honeymoon Hideaway; Inspired Design; Newcomer; Relaxation Retreat; Romantic Retreat; Wellness Spa; Sustainability; Stunning Views. We considered nominating Clarance Hôtel for all of them. Ok, Beach or Coastal was pushing it. The pride of Lille deserves its own category: Unique Boutique.

Lille in those days was for us still a city of newness, a fount of unexpected treasures. But it’s alright to renew an acquaintance, to once more exhale the soft air of youth. We now know that Lille stands for all the things that are important in life – love, beauty, food and shopping. We have not come to tan or trade. Living is our art form. We’re captivated by it all. Encore une fois.

We’re back under the eaves and this time sleeping in Le Flacon. A similar window to Le Voyage frames a view of St Catherine’s Church. Intoxicating memories in kisses of fine linen await. But first there are visits to Méert and its neighbours Comtesse du Barry (for essential terrines) and El Market (for concept clothing). That’s shopping sorted. Love and beauty are all around and will increase in abundance as the day fades. Just food to go then.

“Fast or slow service?” asks our waitress. We’re lunching in the boiserie bedecked Michelin starred dining room. “Fast!” The Countess Hospice Museum is still to be done. There are three midday menus – L’Horloge, L’Idéal and L’Invitation au Voyage – each with varying numbers of course. L’Idéal lives up to its name. Canapés are followed by a foamy pumpkin amuse bouche. The starter is three fat and juicy St Jacques of Boulogne-sur-Mer pan fried scallops. Roasted small boat sole main course precedes steamed orange and saffron pudding. No French lunch is complete without petit fours. Isabel Ferrando’s Stella Ducit 2023 delivers a floral nose of acacia, a hearty citrus palate and a pleasant fennel finish. As our sommelier confirms. La vin des avants.

Aurélie has penned uplifting messages on the back of the menu: “Préserver les cuisines du monde”; “Partager la passion du beau et du bon”; and “Être acteurs d’un monde plus human”. This is final level food. Plus haut n’existe pas. Breakfast will be an ecstacy of eggs to see. Oeufs à la coque, au plat, brouillés, omelette nature or omelette garnie. We head back to nature. Toujours la haute monde. Polo necked fellow guests look so sophisticated. Le paradis, c’est les autres.

The Countess Hospice Museum was built as a hospital founded in 1237 in the grounds of Countess Jeanne de Flandre’s palace. Galleries and the chapel encircle a cobbled courtyard. It’s all rather wonderful. Hits of its hallowed halls include a tiled image of a man in need of a chamber pot as well as Old Master paintings of butch nuns, dying gentlemen, raucous markets and flying balloons by the likes of François Watteau and Wallerant Vaillant. It’s the chauffeur’s night off but that doesn’t matter. La Barre is Hôtel Clarance’s new bar on Rue de la Barre and is Lille’s coolest nightspot bar none. La fin de la journée.

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Kitty Fisher’s Restaurant + Shepherd Market Mayfair London

Generations Come and Generations Go

Last autumn we somehow found ourselves invited to lunches in the private dining rooms of London restaurants on a weekly basis. Nice work, and all that. Six Park Place, Green Park, was all about white truffle and parmesan risotto in an Art Deco setting. Skipping the steak at Smith and Wollensky off The Strand we went for the seared hand dived scallops in the Martin Brudzinski designed basement dining room. Upping the grandeur, we’d gnocchi, ajo blanco, kale, feta crumble and sunflower seeds in the top storey dining room of The Ned under the plasterwork ceiling with its central MB for Midland Bank. The first floor private dining room of 34 was the setting of our The Not The What invitation to enjoy wild mushroom risotto, pecorino and summer truffle surrounded by Tracey Emin paintings. Not a beige buffet in sight.

The What House Awards are the biggest gongs in the housebuilding industry. So far, so mainstream. Much more fun are The Not The What parties contemporaneously thrown across Mayfair. After Champagne fuelled lunches everyone crashes The Red Room bar of The Grosvenor House Hotel. That’s before rounding off the night in Mount Street’s pub The Audley. Mayfair and its environs are not short of high end restaurants: Coya, Hide and Sexy Fish for starters, main course and pudding. In contrast to those three temples to Bacchus, the eateries of Shepherd Market are positively low key – and petite.

Oliver Bradbury records in The Lost Mansions of Mayfair, 2008, “Shepherd Market, named after Edward Shepherd, was laid out on the Curzon family owned waste ground north of Piccadilly and near Hyde Park Corner.” It’s a stretch to call somewhere a few dozen metres away from Green Park off the beaten track but Shepherd Market lends that impression. The short walk down White Horse Street along the side of Cambridge House (shrouded in scaffolding for years – when will the Reuben Brothers’ conversion of the In and Out Club to a hotel be finished?) opens into another world.

Narrow streets radiating off a square are lined with an array of international brasseries. In between are a few high end shops like Simon Carter menswear. Fancy Lebanese? Head to Al Hambra. Channelling Francophilia? There’s L’Artiste Muscle or Ferdi. Le Boudin Blanc closed in 2022. You can enjoy French cheese at Shepherd Market Wine House or pasta at Misto. Go Turkish at Fez Mangal. Iran Restaurant is what it says. Feeling adventurous? Try L’Autre, the capital’s only Polish Mexican. Or Middle Eastern food at our school night regular Sofra.

On the square itself is Kitty Fisher’s offering the best of British fare. Architect Chris Dyson provides some background, “Our practice’s first restaurant project was at 10 Shepherd Market for Penelope and Michael Milburn. The building is located in the northeastern corner of the market square, tucked away between Piccadilly and Curzon Street in Mayfair. In the early part of last century, Shepherd Market was a fashionable address. The writer Michael Arlen rented rooms opposite The Grapes pub, possibly this building, and used Shepherd Market as the setting for his bestselling 1924 novel The Green Hat, later made into a film starring Greta Garbo.”

“The building is essentially 18th century with a rebuilt mid 19th century brick façade.” Chris continues, “The fenestration dates from this partial rebuilding and is surrounded by alternating bands of yellow and red brick. The ground floor shopfront retains two carved stone corbels to either side. There are six floors in total. The basement extends under the pavement with two sizeable brick vaults.”

Typical of Shepherd Market restaurants, the ground floor is narrow fronted and deep in plan creating an intimate atmosphere. Precipitous stairs lead from the restaurant and bar down past the kitchen, fully on display through internal windows, to the rest of the restaurant. Cast iron ovens are retained in the basement thick walls. Cooking these days comes from a wood grill. Kitty Fisher’s was the toast of town when it opened in 2014 – one of its owners is the brother-in-law of then Prime Minister David Cameron who frequented it with his wife Samantha. The Nigella Lawson era of celebs has waned allowing this restaurant to settle into being a thriving slightly in-the-know establishment. On a Friday, especially today, the weekend before Christmas, the 75 covers are turned twice for lunch and twice for dinner. We’re perched on stools at the window in Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks fashion.

This isn’t our first rodeo. Eight years ago, December 2016 to be precise, we dined on the same stools. We were surprised to get dinner without a reservation at the height of Kitty Fisher’s fame. Time to dig into the archives! Viognier Le Paradou 2015 (£30.00), dry with a hint of honeycomb. Whipped cod’s roe, bread and fennel butter (£7.50), Head Chef Tom Parry’s four fingered salute against mediocrity. A textural contrast of creaminess and crustiness. Taleggio, London honey, mustard and black truffle (£9.00), a bittersweet symphony of wood grill smokiness. There’s more. Burrata, beetroot and radicchio (£12.50), a colourful collage of purple and white. Cambridge burnt cream (£7.00) isn’t an undergrad’s baking error but a Cointreau and cinnamon crème brûlée smoothly nestling under a crackly golden lid. These plates are too good for sharing. We observed that currency signs had vanished from fashionable menus as swiftly as pounds disappeared from the wallets of the original Kitty Fisher’s gentlemen callers.

The sharing plates menu has been replaced with a more traditionally laid out version of three courses plus sides. Still currency free. Tom Fairbank is now Head Chef. We stick to Viognier, crisp with floral notes Pays d’Oc Moulin de Gassac 2023 (£34.00). Mountain Bay sardines, Oyster Leaf mayonnaise and pickled green tomatoes (£17), latitudinal extremities. Scottish girolles, lentils and walnut (£30), vegetarian wholesomeness. Chocolate ganache, salted caramel ice cream and honeycomb (£12), sweet and smoky. The boudoir like theme has stayed the same: brown and purple walls, red lampshades, jazz music.

So who was Kitty Fisher? England’s original It Girl, no less. “Without a doubt, Kitty received a good education. She was witty and always known as a good conversationalist,” suggests Joanne Major in Kitty Fisher The First Female Celebrity, 2022. This background – and her natural prettiness – helped her climb up the social ladder with surprising ease. Fame collied with infamy in Kitty’s case due to her high profile affairs and liaisons. “Gossip about her antics reached the drawing rooms, coffeehouses and taverns of every town in the land,” writes Joanne.

In the 18th century painters were the paparazzi. After Sir Joshua Reynolds finished his first likeness, Joanne concludes, “In no time at all, at least four engravers had copied the portrait and Kitty’s likeness was to be had at every print shop in the country.” She lived for a while in Carrington Street to the immediate south of Shepherd Market. Towards the end of her short yet brilliance existence, Kitty found true love and married John Norris MP, Captain of Deal Castle. She died of smallpox aged 26 while visiting Bath. Shepherd Market would continue to have a racy reputation for ladies of the night right up to the mid 20th century.

We’re still up for private dining room lunches but, like Paris, we’ll always have Kitty Fisher’s. And we’ll aim to be back before another eight years have gone.

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Henry Stone + Stephanie Barrillier + Sha-Roe Bistro Clonegal Carlow

Swiss Cottage

Clonegal, County Carlow, population 280 in 2014, isn’t at first glance the most obvious place to come across one of Ireland’s finest restaurants. “You might say we’re in the middle of nowhere!” laughs co proprietor and host Swiss born Stephanie Barillier. “But we’re close to the borders of Counties Wicklow and Wexford. Bigger towns like Enniscorthy and Gorey aren’t too far away and Dublin is handy enough to get to.” That in part explains why it’s impossible to get a table on Friday or Saturday nights at Sha-Roe Bistro without booking. Great food, atmosphere and craic are the other factors.

Much of the food, as you’d expect in this rural terrain, is locally sourced. Fish is from Seatrade in Dunmore East, County Waterford. Carlow Cheese is another, even more local, source: “Owner Elizabeth Bradley is just up the road from Fenagh.” Stephanie’s husband Henry, originally from Arklow, is Head Chef and self explanatory as this may sound, actually does cook what’s on your plate, a rarity in this golden age of named chefs with multiple outlets. He was Head Chef at Marlfield House near Gorey for seven years. That’s where the couple met. “I love Marlfield!” enthuses Stephanie. “It’s like entering a different world and all your worries flying off your shoulder. We were there last weekend for a family celebration.”

Named after the village where Stephanie was brought up, Sha-Roe occupies the ground floor of an elegant Georgian end of terrace. It’s next to the avenue sweeping through the historic 60 hectare Huntington Castle estate and opposite the River Derry. What’s not to like? Orders are taken in the quiet sitting room on one side of the fanlit entrance hall. The frenetic restaurant occupies the room on the opposite side of the hall. “We’ve 32 covers and are serving 54 customers this evening,” she confirms. The place is buzzing. A fire roars in the massive inglenook fireplace and conversations sparkle like the wine. Candles and artwork are set in rugged stone niches. Tables are simply laid with stone mustard jars of fresh flowers.

Henry is renowned for taking seasonal country cooking to a whole new level. Sharper, more refined, make that much more refined. Those seven years at Marlfield clearly show. It’s hard not to overdose on sourdough balls before starter arrives. Mushroom and parmesan tart, roast parsnip, butternut squash and beetroot (€7.50). Main is bouillabaisse of monkfish, scallops and plaice served in a shellfish sauce (€23.50) with chips (€3.00). Finally, an Irish cheese board of Wicklow Blue, Bradley’s Sheep Milk and Carlow Tomme with apple chutney and homemade crackers (€7.70). There’s plenty more of course(s) on the menu but choices must be made. Sure enough, Sha-Roe lives up to, and surpasses, all expectations.

“We’ve been here nine and a half years now,” relates Stephanie. “It’s very funny by pure chance we came across the house for sale in an estate agents in Gorey. I love living here!” Henry and Stephanie’s home is above the restaurant with their three year old child and another is en route, so to speak. In 2015, the population of Clonegal will rise to 281.

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House of Tides Restaurant Newcastle-upon-Tyne +

Riding the Wave

“And the place where new life must start – this may be a surprise, because nobody seems to care two hoots for it at the moment – is the quayside. Whichever way you come to Newcastle, get down to the quayside first,” orders Ian Nairn in his 1967 guide Nairn’s Towns. We obey and not just because the city’s leading restaurant is on the quayside in a Grade I Listed former house opposite the Grade II* Listed Wetherspoon’s pub which was once a house and attached warehouse. Both date from the 16th century. Almost six decades after Nairn’s Towns was first published, the quayside is now a much loved tourist and cultural asset.

The House of Tides was launched a decade ago by husband and wife team Kenny and Abbie Atkinson. He’s now one of the north of England’s most acclaimed chefs. Past roles include a stint as Head Chef of Seaham Hall, Durham, then owned by Von Essen Hotels. “We didn’t want our restaurant to be in a glass box or near bars and clubs which is quite difficult in Newcastle,” relates Kenny. An historic merchant’s dwelling jammed against the gargantuan Tyne Bridge is definitely not a glass box and Wetherspoon’s is the only nearby bar. Clubland has never quite ventured this direction.

The pedestrian route from Newcastle Railway Station to the restaurant is full of intrigue and surprise. Tyne Bridge arches its way across the grounds of Newcastle Castle splitting the keep from the gatehouse. There were no Conservation Areas in Victorian times. Moot Hall is one of the visual treats en route: a Greek Revival courthouse soon to be converted into a hotel by the Gainford Group which owns the jolly decent County Hotel opposite the station. Completed in 1812, architect John Stokoe gave the entrance front a tetrastyle fluted Doric portico and the river facing front a hexastyle portico. Ian Nairn states, “John Stokoe makes the official masters of the style – Smirke, Wilkins and so on – look like pallid pedants.” Next to Tyne Bridge, steps called Long Stairs, bordered by overgrown vegetation and the backs of houses, descend to the quayside. Long Stairs feel a little isolated, a bit ghostly, a tad eery, even by daytime. Later, as dusk falls, orbs will appear.

First impressions of House of Tides – and lasting memories – are of rustic robustness. The three and four storey block has a stone faced ground floor, reddish brown brick upper floors and a pantiled roof. Some of the vertically proportioned sash windows have been reduced in size to casements leaving the original lintels charmingly floating like architectural eyebrows. Inside, the ground floor is one long open bar with informal seating. The restaurant occupies a similar space upstairs.

Rather than being hidden away, the kitchen faces onto the street. Its location adds to the drama of servers parading upstairs to the first floor restaurant, then standing to attention before waiters relieve them of their plates. That’s about as formal as it gets. “Are you enjoying the chilled vibe?” asks our waiter before methodically listing the ingredients as each course of the tasting menu arrives. “How do you remember all that?” we enquire. “I’ve no idea!” he laughs and summarises how the penultimate course, Buttermilk (pear, celery, lemon verbena), is a “journey from savoury to sweet”. A segue on the tongue. The mild vinegary tang jogs our memories of traditional pudding in the Aachen Town Hall cellar brasserie.

The first three courses – Gougère (butternut squash, miso), Goat’s Cheese Parfait (curried granola, rye crackers), Crab (spiced shrimps, crumpet) – set the scene. Refined unfussy food; accessible fine dining. A clarity of culinary vision matched by the white, off white and cream décor complementing the rusticity of the slanted windows and slanted timber floors and slanted plasterwork laden beams. Sourdough (malt butter, toasted yeast) is straight from the baker’s oven. Seatrout (kombu, trout roe, dill, dashi), Cod (mussels, Grelot onions sea herbs) and Monkfish (celeriac, onion, persillade) are three subtly sexy fish dishes. Kenny’s twists of tradition include gooseberry ketchup and wasabi ketchup. Blackberry Crémeux (apple, crème fraîche, meringue) has form and more. No wonder the restaurant snapped up its Michelin star just six months after opening.

“At House of Tides we believe our wine list is an extension of the ethos of the restaurant,” Kenny admits. “It is a collection of our favourite wines and reflects the tastes and passion of the people that have worked to put it together. Our ambition is to take you on a journey through the vineyards from around the world.” As Francophiles we are happy to go no further than across the Channel. A Peu Près Sauvignon Blanc, Loire Valley, 2020, for the savouries. Vigneron Ardechois, Coteau St Giraud, Late Harvest Viognier, 2020, for the sweets. Below at street level, during the course of lunch the bollarded space in front of House of Tides has been carpeted yellow with the fall of autumn leaves.

After lunch we will climb back up Long Stairs to inspect the Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin designed needle spired St Mary’s Catholic Cathedral on the far side of the railway station. The organist is practising for a wedding. He plays two minutes of Franz Schubert’s Ave Maria, two of Johann Pachelbel’s Canon in D, Johann Sebastian Bach’s Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring, César Franck’s Panis Angelicus, Richard Wagner’s Bridal Chorus and Ennio Morricone’s Gabriel’s Oboe. A musical tasting menu.

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Corsham Court + Corsham Wiltshire

The Remains of the Afternoon

It’s one of the key English houses to see, totally individual and unlike anywhere else. Set between Elizabethan to Victorian built form is a display of interiors from the third quarter of the 18th century, that fascinating period containing the stylistic segue from high rococo to neoclassicism. Even a taste for the macabre in art – Guido Reni’s touching St Sebastián in the Picture Gallery and his bloodied snowy Massacre of the Innocents in the Corridor and Alessandro Turchi’s equally gory Massacre of the Innocents in the Cabinet Room – cannot dispel the current glory of the place.

Corsham Court is positioned close to its namesake town, separated only to the west by a sea of wavy yews. A magical first glimpse of the south facing entrance front is captured through a gated archway linking two 16th century ancillary ranges. There’s never an excuse for missing Vespers: St Bartholomew’s Church is to one side of the short driveway. To the east and north are nine hectares of gardens and across the haha is a five hectare lake. The estate extends to 188 hectares.

First impressions are of a golden hued stone Elizabethan house. This is both true and false: a concurrency of reality. Thomas Smythe’s house of 1582 is clearly visible, not least on his central datestone, but Lancelot “Capability” Brown, acting as architect and landscape designer from 1760 to 1780, replicated the existing bays on either side of the central forecourt. Further works would follow. In the East Wing, the family accommodation, the additional bay lights the Breakfast Room. The original bay lights the Library. In the West Wing, open to visitors for centuries, the additional bay is part of the Cabinet Room but is walled off – too many paintings to hang. The original bay is curtained off by the fourposter of the State Bedchamber.

The Cabinet Room and State Bedchamber form part of Corsham Court’s celebrated suite of State Rooms and are joined by the Picture Gallery and the Octagon Room. Original blood red damask wall hangings and chair coverings complement furniture by the Adam brothers, Chippendale, John Cobb and Thomas Johnson, as well as two family collections of Old Masters. Move over Wilton House near Salisbury with its double cube room – Lancelot’s triple cube (in multiples of 7.3 metres) Picture Gallery is breathtaking from its symmetrical hang of masterpieces to its deep coved and coffered plasterwork ceiling. Unlike the lead paned mullioned windows in most of the principal rooms, the Picture Gallery has five 12 pane sash windows framing views of the lake. The adjoining Cabinet Room has two sash windows, also on the east elevation. The Library and Picture Gallery appear in the 1993 film adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro’s novel The Remains of the Day starring Emma Thompson and Anthony Hopkins. Living up to his moniker, Lancelot also designed the lake, completed by Sir Humphry Repton four decades later, and the Gothic Bath House.

The second generation of the Methuen family to own Corsham Court still required more space for their original art collection so commissioned John Nash to remodel the north part of the house. That didn’t end well. Despite charging quadruple his original fee proposal, the ambitious Gothic extension was poorly constructed and damp – not so good for paintings. Completed in 1805, it was demolished 41 years later. The polygonal dairy wing with its row of pointy gabled windows is all that remains of his extension. John Nash’s Library and the Dining Room chimneypiece, both in the south part of the house, survive. He also further Gothicised the Bath House.

Discovering John Nash’s fame sometimes slipped to infamy – there’s a reason these days why both planning design and detailed delivery architectural practices are employed for major developments – in 1849 the Methuen family chose Thomas Bellemy, not a household name this time, to design the rebuilding of the north part of the house. His monumental neo Elizabethan north elevation with its staircase tower rising above the roofs is collegiate in tone, best viewed from the far end of the long lawn bordered by deciduous trees. This is its third incarnation: John Nash’s Gothic front had replaced a 1749 Palladian design by Nathaniel Ireson. Thomas Bellemy also inserted windows between the pair of bays of the central setback on the entrance front. Revelling in a typically Victorian eclecticism, his Staircase Hall and Corridors are Italian Renaissance.

The west front is similar in style to the south front. The little published east front is the most playful elevation. Lancelot Brown’s restrained Palladian design – like Alan Hollinghurst’s description of a house in Our Evenings, 2024, “Sash windows up and down were gleams and depths across the great plain face of the building” – was jollied up by John Nash’s Gothic first floor oriel window and turreted trimmings. Its papery architecture is straight off the drawing board. Under John Nash’s remodelling, the Octagon Room lost two of its four chamfered walls so is now six sided. Its centrepiece is a 1790s octagonal rent table. The Dining Room and Music Room unlike the State Suite are in Thomas Bellemy’s neo Elizabethan mode. There is nothing staged about the interiors; no curator has been at work. It is an aesthetic education to be within these walls – first those of the estate, then those of the house.

Splinter Corsham Court into its constituent parts, extant and demolished, disperse and redistribute them, lower the grandeur while raising the vernacular, and Corsham High Street will appear. Parallel lines of Elizabethan to Victorian built form terminate at The Methuen Arms, a three bay three storey Georgian hotel. Most of the buildings share the same golden hued stone of Corsham Court. Others are harled and painted mustard or skin colour. And everywhere, estate and town, the peacocks, symbols of beauty, rebirth, wealth and pride.

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The Goldens + The Lisantis + The Circus Restaurant Bath Somerset

Golden Ratio

“They arrived at Bath. Catherine was all eager delight,” Jane Austen enthuses in Northanger Abbey (1818). Between the architectural ring of perfection that is The Circus and the arc of joy that is Royal Crescent lies the uncurved stretch of beauty that is Brock Street. This artery linking major works is mostly residential except for The Circus Restaurant which fills the ground floor and basement of a house between one of the two Beau Nash antiques shops and Cobb Farr estate agents. Brock Street is exceptionally pretty but this being Bath prettiness is actually the norm. The architecture is still grand Georgian but taken down a notch in formality compared to its heavily parapeted and haughtily pilastered geometrically daring abutting addresses. Charles Robertson notes in An Architectural Guide to Bath (1975), “John Wood the Younger deliberately kept the Brock Street elevations relatively plain.”

The owners of Beau Nash know all about chips as well as Chippendales and sherry as well as Sheratons. The Food Guide (2024) prepared by dealers Ron Pringle and Cynthia Wihardja states: “We haven’t eaten everywhere but we have tried many places. When we recommend a place it’s not only about the food. We also rate the sincerity of the service. We believe the two are essential for a memorable dining experience.” The Circus Restaurant gets their approval, “You can’t go wrong. Good food, honest prices, seasonal menus. Lovely service and very good value for money.” And The Dark Horse sounds too tempting to miss: “Our top place for pre dinner cocktails! A vast array of concoctions to suit any palette. Cosy quality atmosphere.”

The West Country’s first culinary power couple Head Chef Allison Golden and her husband Geoffrey opened the restaurant in 2007. She recalls the warm glow of that golden era, “Our busy independent restaurant served modern European food accompanied by Old World wines in a relaxed atmosphere. We cooked sincerely and straightforwardly to ensure everyone experienced the authentic taste in our ingredients. You’d never find any of the big names that turn wine into an industrial product. Each wine on our list was the individual expression of expertise.” It was the golden age of dining but time moves on and Ally and Geoff have driven off into the sunset in their gold coloured Lamborghini.

It was a gilt edged opportunity for Chef Matt Lisanti and his brother Mike to take over the restaurant – one they couldn’t resist. The staff were retained and the new golden boys are serving up the same type of modern European food and independent Old World wines. Autumn Menu highlights include Sharpham Brie Croquettes (mustard mayo, black garlic ketchup) starter for £9.30 and Cashew Massaman Coconut Curry (sweet potato, pineapple, lemongrass ginger sushi cake, puffed rice noodle) for £21.30. House White is Claude Val Pays d’Oc (fresh, green apples, tropical, creamy) priced £26.50. The food and wine are easy on the tastebuds and wallet; the service is easy on the eye. After a busy day buying first editions from George Baytun bookshop and handmade Italian jumpers from Gabucci (moda per uomo) it’s straight up from the bottom of Gay Street for dinner at the top. Squeezing in a cocktail in The Dark Horse en route of course. Friday evening in The Circus Restaurant is buzzy with a D4 (Dublin 4) feel to it. “What a delightful place Bath is,” cries Jane Austen’s Mrs Allen.

In his essay A Sense of Proportion John Julius Norwich writes, “Bath is a city of superlatives. First of all, it is the most beautiful in Britain. Next, it is the most appropriately named [unlike Bognor Regis which despite name boasts an elegant Victorian seafront] … Finally, and most gloriously of all, it is the one city in this country where fine building and inspired town planning go hand in hand, together creating an atmosphere of Palladian elegance and civilised refinement without equal anywhere.” That was 49 years ago. But as Jane Austen’s character Mr Tilney asked 206 years ago, “Oh, who can ever be tired of Bath?”

The 2nd Viscount Norwich, son of the socialite Lady Diana Cooper, continues, “The Circus, with its three splendid superimposed arcades loosely based on the Roman Colosseum, is a triumph. Still unfinished when John Wood died in 1754, it was completed by his son, who went on to create an even grander concept, the Royal Crescent, the first crescent in English architecture. In the work of both Woods we can see the principles of Palladian landscaping being followed just as much as those of Palladian proportions. In The Circus, the streets leading in are carefully arranged not to bisect it; in the same way the Royal Crescent, though less than 300 yards away from The Circus down a dead straight street, is actually invisible from it – which makes the sudden discovery one of the great dramatic moments of European architecture.”

He ends, “Yet the beauty of Bath and its uniqueness lie less in these individual triumphs than in the ensemble – in the squares and crescents and parades, ranging from The Circus to many a secluded, unpretentious street behind. The life they were built to sustain was vacuous, vapid and, one suspects, quite shatteringly dull; but they themselves embody very different values – strength, reason, humanity, permanence. This is the paradox of Bath. When the guidebooks call it ‘a monument to bygone elegance’ they are wrong. Only the perishable has perished. The elegance remains.” People come and go; the golden hued architecture is still on show. “The bright genius of Bath is hardly more than a beautiful display, the whim or flourish of an era,” argues Jan Morris in the introduction to Charles Robertson’s An Architectural Guide to Bath. “Edited to the smallest detail of perfection,” to use a phrase of Min Hogg, Founding Editor of The World of Interiors.

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The Royal Crescent Hotel + Montagu’s Mews Bath Somerset

The Silent Banshee

In the late 20th century Cotswolds based neoclassical architect William Bertram converted one of England’s greatest country houses into a hotel and a pair of England’s greatest townhouses into a hotel. At one time, both were owned by Von Essen Hotels. Cliveden House Hotel, Berkshire, and The Royal Crescent Hotel, Bath. Two of the three centremost houses of Royal Crescent were combined and a Dower House built in the mews in the early 1980s. In his book Bath (1944), Tony Smith sums up the country’s most majestic concave semi elliptical piece of architecture: “The whole conception and plan of this dazzling achievement is eloquent of the halcyon days of Bath.” Professor David Watkin describes it in The Practice of Classical Architecture: Quinlan and Francis Terry (2015) as “a half crescent facing down a grassy slope”. In 2010, the Terrys even designed their own crescent of retirement homes in Danbury, Essex.

“As the black of a dinner jacket sets off the bright colours of a dress, so the squares, crescents, quadrangles and circles of bath provide a geometric stage for the flow of life,” reckons Jan Morris in the introduction to An Architectural Guide to Bath by Charles Robertson (1975). William Lowndes notes in The Royal Crescent in Bath, (1981), “The central house of the Crescent is Number 16. It is one of the largest houses, and the adjacent houses also come into this category. There are two distinguishing features about the façade of Number 16 which emphasise its commanding position at the apex of the great curve of the Crescent. Four columns are grouped in pairs, and there is an arched first floor window from which both arms of the Crescent can be viewed in all their elegant symmetry.” There is a third distinguishing feature: it is the only house with single pane wide hall windows flanking the entrance door.

The treatment of the centre of the Crescent has been the subject of much scholarly debate. Charles Robertson notes, “The colonnade is not perfectly continuous; in the middle there is the most unobtrusive of breaks, four of the columns being grouped in pairs with a round headed window in between. This method of marking the centre has been variously criticised as being either unnecessary or insufficient. The former view was voiced as early as 1773, as quoted by Walter Ison, ‘The wretched attempt to make a centre to the Crescent where none was necessary is absurd and preposterous, in a high degree. The pairing of the pillars is too small a difference to be noted in so large a building …’” This 18th century critic radically suggests a chapel should have been placed in the middle of the terrace.

“The houses have had some notable occupants,” opines William Lowndes, “particularly during the first 50 years of their history. Elizabeth Montagu, who rejoiced in the spaciousness of their rooms, entertained many of the outstanding literary figures of the late 18th century there … The first dramatic change for over 100 years came in 1950, when Number 16 became a guesthouse. In 1971, together with Number 15, the guesthouse designation was abandoned, and The Royal Crescent Hotel was launched.” He records the presence of a ghost in Number 15: a lady in a long blue silk dress at the top of the stairs. She graciously descends, bestowing a warm smile on guests and staff, before disappearing. He guesses it is the social reformer and patron of the arts Elizabeth Montagu still enjoying her home from beyond the grave. “I believe unique places and people are what give the fabric of our lives richness,” says Edward Gabbai, Founder and Director of the Boutique Hotel Awards.

A hotel is the perfect alternative use and does not require subdivision: these houses were built for entertaining. John Haddon frets in Portrait of Bath (1982), “Conversion is not easy and some of these flats are not particularly convenient, although others are rather splendid. After all, these houses were built without electricity or gas, upstairs piped water, bathrooms, or, in many cases WCs, and they were heated by coal fires, so that to provide separate entrances, kitchens, lavatories and bathrooms on each floor calls for a good deal of ingenuity, although more recent conversions to what the selling agents like to call ‘prestigious apartments’ is made easier by gutting the building and rebuilding behind the original façade. Moreover, subdivision of Georgian rooms destroys their proportions and creates units which tend to be too high for their width. On the other hand, if a room is left as originally built it is expensive to heat.”

John Wood the Younger employed several builders on the 30 houses. They were all constrained by defined dimensions and designs on the cut limestone ashlar façade while allowed to run amok inside and to the rear. Over the course of eight years starting in 1767, the 152 metre long 15 metre high 114 engaged six metre tall Roman Ionic columned terrace took shape in all its geometric sophistication. The columns support a continuous returned balustraded parapet, modillion cornice and frieze. The occasional plate glass window, blind box and metal balconette are almost the only later derivations from the architect’s original concept. One other variation counteracting the powerful elongated temple front is found in the fanlight glazing bars including single pane; three vertical panes; diamond, oval and fish eye patterns. The number of entrance door panels also varies. Clever maths is at play to allow a central door in a terrace of an even number of 30 houses: 95 windows are shared unevenly. Number 1 is three bays wide on the curve; Number 2 to 13 are each three bays wide; Numbers 14 to 16 are each four bays wide; Numbers 17 to 29 are each three bays wide; and Number 30 is four bays wide on the curve.

The architect stipulated that the exterior woodwork must be painted white in perpetuity. Two centuries later, Annabel Wellesley-Colley broke the covenant much to the horror of her neighbours. In 1972 she painted the front door of her house yellow, and to make matters even worse, hung yellow blinds either side of it. She then took to sunbathing on her balcony wearing a yellow bikini. Naturally, Annabel chose the same hue for the suit she wore to the consequent public inquiry at Bath’s Guildhall. She won. “I am a descendent of the Duke of Wellington whose favourite colour was yellow and I regard it as my duty to uphold the tradition!” declared Annabel Wellesley-Colley. The door of Number 22 is still yellow. Charles Robertson wasn’t impressed: “The yellow door and blinds demonstrate how idiosyncrasy can spill over into bad manners.”

Lunch in Montagu’s Mews overlooking the gardens is an incredibly stylish affair. The delicately decorated ground floor reception rooms of William Bertram’s building flow into each other with grace and charm. Elizabeth Montagu would approve if she ever ventures beyond the staircase hall of Number 15. After the geometric perfection of the famous façade, the rear elevations of the Crescent are a glorious asymmetric jumble best viewed over Cornish day boat fish. “A fascinating disharmony,” observes Richard Morriss (on the architecture not the food) in The Buildings of Bath (1993). “A hodge podge, job lot look, an enthralling muddle,” adds Jan Morris (still on the architecture).

Julia Kent provided a review for House and Garden in May 1987, “The restaurant at The Royal Crescent Hotel is an elegant setting for elegant food, the style of which is contemporary yet classic. First courses have recently included gâteaux of wild mushrooms (a crisp potato galette with creamed spinach and girolles) with timbale of trout with a ragout of shellfish and a rich langoustine butter sauce. For the main course, you might opt for fillet of salmon steamed with cucumber and chive cream sauce. A three course meal from the à la carte menu costs about £27.00.” Lunch is a trifle (or two) more expensive these days.

A lifetime ago, Min Hogg, Founding Editor of The World of Interiors, shared her thoughts that interiors can be classified as either cluttered, hot climate, designer decorated, minimal, ancestral, simple, shabby chic or eccentric. Her London home was definitely “shabby chic” (a term she’d invented) while her Canary Islands retreat was of course “hot climate”. Min did admit, “To subdivide all the glories of interior design into a mere eight categories is shockingly presumptuous but they are fundamental.” The original drawing room of Number 16 currently falls into “modern” unlike the “ancestral” interior of the great fun museum in Number 1 Royal Crescent, one of the two five bay fronted end houses. The middle bay of each of the two end houses is defined by a wider gap between the engaged Roman Ionic columns either side of the central first and second floor windows above a pedimented Doric doorcase. This could have been an alternative solution to the central treatment of the Crescent. The corners of the end houses are emphasised by paired engaged columns on the principal elevations.

Who could forget the cartoon amidst the ancestral decoration of Number 1 Royal Crescent sitting room of a gentleman performing the Dicky Dangle Dance? Back at The Royal Crescent Hotel, the modern art of the drawing room recalls The Snob Spotter’s Guide by Philippe Jullian (1958), “Molly was telling me that at the beginning of his career Picasso used a lot of blue in his pictures. She calls it his Blue Period.” Truer to form, Montagu’s Mews is subtly “designer decorated”. Min often commented, “Beautiful interior decoration will always be one of life’s greatest pleasures.”

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The Landmark Trust + Marshal Wade’s House Bath Somerset

Unvernacular

“I can well remember the first time I entered Bath. It was a very hot day in the summer of 1937 … towards the evening I came to the hills which engirdle the Queen City of the West. Tired and footsore as I was, I lost nothing of that breathtaking moment when the eye first catches sight of that lovely terraced city. Lying, so to speak, in a vast amphitheatre, surrounded by hills of enchanting beauty, it seemed like a city out of an Eastern romance, a new Jerusalem built by some magic hand in England’s green and pleasant land.” That is how Tony Smith reminisced on the Pride of Wessex in his 1944 book simply titled Bath. Hyperbole becomes reality in this city.

Four decades later Kenneth Hudson notes in The Fashionable Stone, “The development of the Combe Down quarries at Bath in the 18th century was due almost entirely to the enterprise of Ralph Allen, who went into the stone business immediately after the Avon navigation was completed in 1727. The improvement in communication by water from Bath made it possible to ship stone by barge to Bristol and from there by ship to anywhere in Britain. It was the Avon navigation that broke the virtual export monopoly that Portland had held for so long.”

The Landmark Trust’s central Bath property predates John Wood the Elder and John Wood the Younger’s developments. This remarkable 1720s townhouse built for Ralph Allen’s friend Field Marshal George Wade – swapping his military life in the Scottish highlands for political life as MP for Bath – was rescued by the Trust in 1975. The ground and first floors are retail use. The top two floors of this now single aspect (save for one landing roof window) south facing building are holiday accommodation. Two reception rooms evenly occupy the four bays of the second floor. A freestanding octagonal kitchen (sink, cooker, fridge and cupboards all in one waist height compact unit) in one of the reception rooms is parallel with five of the walls including the chamfered chimneypiece wall. This allows the panelling and bolection mouldings to remain intact. Two bedrooms on the storey above have floors so slanted that walking across them is like being tipsy on a rocky boat.

All seven main windows (one of the windows in the outer bathroom wall is a dummy) of the palazzo façade overlook Abbey Churchyard. Thankfully it’s a car free space unlike The Circus and Royal Crescent. The angels climbing up and down Jacob’s Ladder on the west elevation of Bath Abbey are almost in touching distance. Directly opposite are the roofs of The Pump Room. The best view is from the loo on the top floor. Unusually for this hallowed and documented city, the provenance of Marshal Wade’s House is lost in the mists of time. The architect was certainly familiar with Andrea Palladio’s Libri dell’Architettura of 1570. “The Ionic pilasters are the first in Bath of the giant order,” Richard Morriss confirms in The Buildings of Bath (1993), “rising through two storeys.” Charles Robertson records in An Architectural Guide to Bath (1974), “The attic storey is somewhat different and may have been added or altered at a later date. “The building next door to the east clearly has a later top floor.

Heading downhill and arriving four decades later, Robert Adam’s Pulteney Bridge is a lighter version of neoclassicism in contrast to the virility of Marshal Wade’s House. Richard Morriss ponders, “It is said to reflect Palladio’s proposal for the Rialto Bridge in Venice.” Charles Robertson isn’t so sure: “Walter Ison suggests that the design may be adapted from a drawing in Palladio’s Terzo Libri dell’Architettura but the resemblance is not at all close, and Adam would presumably have regarded imitation of Palladio as old fashioned. There is really no reason to consider this simple but masterly design as anything other than original.”

So who was the first occupant of this house? George Wade’s family had settled in County Westmeath in the 17th century. Clearly at some stage he crossed the Irish Sea to settle in the West Country. Denise Chantrey records in George Wade 1673 to 1748 (2009), “Wade was a man who made and kept many friends who might easily have been his enemies. He was straightforward and honest, and made a point of seeing the other man’s point of view. He was a flamboyant character and he loved cards, wine, women, comfort, good furniture and art. He had friends in high places but gambled in low dives. He was vain and often commissioned portraits of himself which he gave to family and friends.” It would be rude not to continue the established partying tradition then in his not so humble Palladian abode.

Director of The Landmark Trust Dr Anna Keay explains, “Over 50,000 people now stay every year in The Landmark Trust’s buildings and experience the pleasure of carrying the key of the door in their pocket, ‘a stimulus more powerful than a mere ticket of admission’, and the possibility, for which Landmark was founded, that they ‘might go back home with an interest awakened that would grow, and perhaps last them all of their lives’.” An awakened interest it is then but not before afternoon sherry is decanted at a stop off in Corkage. Life is a stage behind the velvet curtains of this intimate restaurant and bottle shop on Chapel Row. “There is a poignancy,” writes Jan Morris in the introduction to Charles Robertson’s Guide, “to this diminutive side of Bath, or if not a poignancy, a wistfulness.”

In The Landmark Handbook (1988) the then Prince of Wales wrote in the forward: “While I am fortunate to be the Patron or President of a great many charities, I have always been a particular enthusiast for the work of The Landmark Trust. Its philosophy accords closely with my own convictions that historic buildings need – indeed deserve – sympathetic and skilled repair and a viable contemporary purpose both to survive and thrive. It is wonderful that the Trust’s restored buildings give much enjoyment, as well as earn the income to support themselves and the charity that cares for them.” Much enjoyment – taking his now Majesty’s advice the toons are turned up! Min Hogg, Founding Editor of The World of Interiors, liked to have the last word, “The most successful houses reflect their surroundings.”

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St Augustine’s Grange + St Edward’s Presbytery Ramsgate Kent

All Saints

It’s the 172nd anniversary of the death of Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin, an important day to arrive at St Augustine’s Grange, Ramsgate, where he died on 14 September 1852. Despite his considerable contribution to architecture, he was only 40. But there is nothing morbid about our sun soaked visit to the Gothic Revivalist’s home and adjoining property, St Edward’s Presbytery, high above the shoreline of east Kent. This Grade I Listed enclave has been pristinely preserved and rationally revived as holiday accommodation by The Landmark Trust, that keeper of follies and other quirks of built heritage.

The interrelationship of the two houses set in the wider context of St Augustine’s Church next door (by Augustus) and St Augustine’s Monastery opposite (by Augustus’ eldest son Edward) is best experienced from the viewing platform of the tower (which houses water tanks and WCs) of The Grange. It’s a complex and clever Gothic jigsaw. Glorious built form, glorious urban scenery. Excitement of architecture is matched by thrill of geography: a sweep of coastline takes in Sandwich Bay and a distant Deal.

In his Introduction (2003) to The True Principles of Pointed or Christian Architecture and An Apology for The Revival of Christian Architecture (1841 and 1843) Dr Roderick O’Donnell writes, “Pugin was to be at his most influential in reforming the practice of the Gothic Revival and domestic architecture of what, in another context, he called the ‘middle class’ home, and his revolutionary influence on its construction, planning and decoration was first demonstrated in his own house, St Augustine’s Grange, Ramsgate (1843). Pugin thus stands at the wellspring of 19th century architectural and design reform, which was to be reflected in the institution that would become the Victoria and Albert Museum, the publications of Ruskin, and the architecture and decorative programme of William Morris … the paternity of the 20th century Modern Movement can be tracked back to Pugin and to True Principles.”

To the early 21st century eye The Grange and The Presbytery may appear to be simply high quality Victorian architecture, but to the mid 19th century eye the elevational subservience to the plan would have appeared as a radical reversal of the neoclassical norm. A striking honesty is at work: no blind windows or screen walls; instead a proliferation of asymmetric window arrangements and visible buttresses. Augustus’ work is the antithesis of the contemporaneous symmetrical Italianate pair of villas closer to Ramsgate Royal Harbour called Vale and likely built by the developer William Saxby.

The Grange, a family house, looks across to the English Channel over the West Cliffs. The Presbytery, a secular priest’s house which came seven years later, is tucked between The Grange and St Augustine’s Road. Both were designed by Augustus; both have light filled additions by Edward. The porch of The Grange and the first floor studio of The Presbytery, each glazed above dado height, are second generation Pugin.

There is weight to the choice of materials: the unknapped flint of The Presbytery symbolically straddles the secular and religious: St Augustine’s Church is built of knapped flint and Whitby stone; The Grange, of London stock brick with Caen stone dressings. Dr Anna Keay, Director of The Landmark Trust, sums up the two properties as “Gothic heaven and available to all of us to book for a stay”. Upon entering through Edward’s gates to be greeted by a pair of heraldic stone lions on top of the gateposts, we’re enjoying Augustus’ oft quoted “delight of the sea with Catholic architecture and a library”.

The internal layout of The Grange was just as quietly groundbreaking as the exterior. A practical arrangement of main rooms clustered around a central staircase hall without any servants’ corridors would prove to be the forerunner of later Victorian suburban housing. Subsequent architects like Sir Edwin Lutyens would be inspired by Augustus’ thoughtful design such as the positioning of windows based on capturing the optimal light and framing the best views.

The family chapel, reception rooms and bedrooms are richly decorated with a wealth of pattern and colour provided by stained glass windows, wallpaper and encaustic tiles. In contrast, the uncontrived simplicity and solidity of the kitchen dresser would herald the honesty of workmanship of the Arts and Crafts movement led by among others Philip Webb and Charles Voysey. Augustus believed features should be decorated but must be functional. According to Stephen Coote in William Morris His Life and Work (1995), “Pugin declared, ‘Ornament should be no more than enrichment of the essential composition.’” This dedication to functionality as a starting point would sew the seeds of Modernism in the following century.

Dr Roderick O’Donnell wrote the entry for Edward Welby Pugin in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004): “Edward Welby Pugin (1834 to 1875), architect, was born on 11 March 1834 at Ramsgate, the eldest son of Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin (1812 to 1852) and his second wife, Louisa Burton (circa 1813 to 1844). He was trained by his father and at the age of 18 found himself in charge of his father’s practice, which he developed with many pupils and various partnerships, most importantly with his brother-in-law George Coppiner Ashlin in Ireland (1859 to 1869) and his brother Peter Paul Pugin (1851 to 1904) … Edward Pugin’s practice was overwhelmingly Roman Catholic. He worked initially in his father’s preferred Decorated Gothic style … From 1856 his style became more elaborate but his church plans simpler by widening the span of the arcades, diminishing chancel arches, and abolishing rood screens, so as to achieve simple sightlines set in shallow apses.”

Edward died unmarried in the arms of his brother Cuthbert Welby Pugin at his home on Victoria Street, Westminster. He was more outgoing than his father, frequenting Turkish baths and attending charitable functions. Roderick argues he was less important an architect than his father yet notes his style and plans became normative for Roman Catholic churches in the British Isles in the latter half of the 19th century. We reckon Edward’s surviving additions provide another layer of interest to The Grange and The Presbytery. The family firm continued as Pugin and Pugin.

Surrendering to the familial draw of Ramsgate, Cuthbert retired to The Grange where he died unmarried on 25 March 1928, outliving the combined age of his father and older brother by five years. The Landmark Trust decisively removed most of Edward’s additions to The Grange including a drawing room extension, conservatory and several chimneypieces. Cuthbert’s 1880s alterations to The Presbytery were also demolished. We depart Ramsgate with a newfound understanding and appreciation of Pugin the Elder and Pugins the Younger.

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Seabird Restaurant + Vale + Valerian Lodge + Liverpool Lawn Ramsgate Kent

Beyond The Vale

The seaside town of Ramsgate in the southeast of England is incredibly distinguished: it has the largest Wetherspoon’s in England. It also has the only Royal Harbour in the country. In a neat linguistic loop the vast tavern occupies the Royal Victoria Pavilion which overlooks the regally moored yachts. Wetherspoon’s verandah is the perfect place to view the golden sands over a preprandial pint. Moving a few blocks inland, Seabird has indoor and outdoor seating – and cooking. Civilised lunch on the terrace is straight from the en plein air grill. Unmissable delights are fennel, feta, cucumber, olive and lemon followed by buttermilk and vanilla pannacotta with brandy soaked Victoria plums.

Gosh so many houses so little time. The domestic architecture of Ramsgate is a rich melange of all the best bits of the 18th and 19th centuries. Some of it is frayed round the edges – this town is genteel rather than gentrified, chilled instead of cool, warm and friendly not hot and trendy. Away from the scale and grandeur of the cliff houses, selected highlights, and not just on an alliterative nomenclature basis, are Vale, Valerian Lodge and Liverpool Lawn.

Close to Seabird, Vale is an impressive triple fronted end of terrace square building split into two semi detached villas. The three storey (with attic and basement) pair share a five bay end elevation: the middle bay is a blind window. A vast scrolled pediment concealing the setback top floor has the word Vale (in upper case) raised on a central panel. The two unshared elevations comprise three wider bays. Rather charmingly, the stucco to the ‘front’ house is painted bright grey; the ‘back’ house is in its natural darker grey pigment free stucco state. Like twin girls but one is wearing makeup. Vale was most likely built by the developer William Saxby in the 1840s.

Valerian Lodge on Grange Road is further up the hill from Seabird on the way to Ramsgate Railway Station. It’s a rather elegant Regency or very early Victorian house set in a miniature 0.2 hectare walled estate filled with holm oak, turkey oak, horse chestnut and sycamore. The house is a long low two storey (over basement) rectangular block: one of the short two elevations faces the road. A tented balcony with trellised piers linking two of the five first floor bedrooms peers over the brick and flint boundary wall. Except for render above the balcony, walls are pale brown brick. In 2015, a single storey garden room in matching style linked by a glazed lobby was added to the short elevation facing away from the road. It was designed by Margate architects Duncan and Graham. Valerian Lodge has the tallest chimneypots in Kent – or at least on Grange Road.

Not far from Wetherspoon’s, Liverpool Lawn was built by James Crisford between 1827 and 1836. A crescent and various straight terraces face a triangular green (that Lawn!). Liverpool Villa and Liverpool House are a pair of three storey brown brick houses: flat fronted facing the Lawn and two full height bow windows on the other principal elevation. These townhouses are aptly of a scale and appearance (especially the painted ground floor lintels) popular in Liverpool. Numbers 20, 21 and 23 form a stuccoed two storey terrace. Number 20 has a three bay façade on the short elevation and is just one bay deep facing the Lawn. Numbers 21 and 22 have identical three bay façades (actually three and a bit bay: they share a central first floor blind window) facing the Lawn. Liverpool Lawn is developer led residential use at its finest.

In 2013, Liverpool Lawn was extended by seven townhouses next to Liverpool Villa and Liverpool House. Built by developer Kentish Projects, designer Anthony Browne of Chelsea Consultants explains, “The houses were designed to mimic neighbouring bow fronted Grade II Listed Georgian properties, while also adapting interior contemporary elements. The houses at the end of the terrace were finished in a contrasting white castellated style. The development utilises hand cut Flemish bond brickwork, lime mortar and stone Gothic window arches. The bespoke wooden windows, doors and railings were crafted to original standards.”

Harriet Kean writes in the October 2024 edition of Tatler, “Wetherspoon’s are the cornerstones of society where everyone comes together. These days everybody’s at the pub. Why go to The Surprise in Chelsea when there’s an Earl of Mulgrave approved Wetherspoon’s: The Montagu Pyke? Everyone who’s anyone is currently mourning The Asparagus: the famed ’Spoon’s in Battersea that to the despair of socialites everywhere closed this year and then reopened as a bougie pub with craft beers. But The Asparagus did have its heyday, attracting everyone from the Morgan-Gileses to Old Marlburian Charlie Girardot.” Fear not: Ramsgate Wetherspoon’s is but a Tube and train ride away from Sloane Square.

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Jody Breese + Jim Breese + Penelope Wine Bar Ramsgate Kent

Sipping Like Dowagers Dancing Like Dervishes

One block back from the sea breeze, there’s a beat in the air. Architect William George Osborne’s tall sliver of a building with its ornate late 19th century façade couldn’t be more different than designer Peter Chadwick’s pared back early 21st century ground floor interior. Penelope is the creation of Jody and Jim Breese – the latter is also the resident DJ. The pair have brought natural wine and vinyl and a party spirit to their hometown. Saturday nights in downtown Ramsgate are all about shooting the breeze at Penelope.

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Montmartre Museum + Renoir Garden Paris + Auguste Herbin

Room for Love  

Mees Salomé’s Higher is playing while we enjoy cheesy omelette on the terrace of Le Deli’s on Rue du Mont-Cenis watching the competitive joggers beat the gradient. It’s all about being above and beyonders, top performers, brand champions, role models, best of the best, on the frontline. We’re getting high. A spiritual high. A romantic high. A physical high. A Paris high. Adoring Montmartre. Sleaze (Boulevard de Clichy) turns to class (Rue Cortot) in direct correlation to altitude. So it’s onwards and upwards to the Montmartre Museum which is so much more than its name suggests. The museum is a summit situated collection of spaces set in the shadow of the towering roofscapes of Sacré Coeur and Château d’Eau de Montmartre. One a monument to spiritual health, the other a monument to physical health. This urban composition at the highest topographical point of Paris oozes up at heel bohemian charm.

“Modern Paris exists largely because of one man – Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte, otherwise known as Emperor Napoléon III, nephew of the more gifted Napoléon I. It was he who conceived a compact Paris tied together with wide boulevards, and hired the man who made it reality,” explains John Baxter in Montmartre Paris’s Village of Art and Sin (2017). “To create these thoroughfares and the buildings that lined them, the Emperor appointed ‘Baron’ Georges-Eugène Haussmann, a town planner sufficiently far seeing to visualise a modern Paris and ruthless enough to realise it.”

Montmartre, or at least the hill itself, was never quite Hausmannised and developed more organically in picturesque clusters of development. This peak of the 18th Arrondisement was of course the pinnacle of civilisation in the 1920s. “Paris. No word sounded sweeter to me!” the artist Marc Chagall recalled in his 1957 autobiography My Life. Artists Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Maurice Utrillo, Raoul Dufy, Émile Bernard and Suzanne Valadon all worked in the collection of buildings that is now the museum. The former’s garden with its iconic swing and the latter’s studio with its used paintbrushes have both been recreated. The composer Erik Satie lived next door.

The Master Revealed is the current exhibition celebrating the life work of Auguste Herbin (1882 to 1960). Occasionally whacky, always brilliant, this painter embraced all the main art movements of the 20th century. Auguste moved seamlessly between Fauvism, Cubism, Abstract, Post Impressionism, Realism and Musicalism. He was very much a man of his time. Curator Fanny de Lépanau opines, “Given that he produced work for such a long period and of such high quality, it is surprising that Auguste Herbin has never had an exhibition in a Parisian museum.” She laments his undeserved descent into relative obscurity despite a successful career across Europe spanning six decades. Perhaps this exhibition will act as a catalyst to resurrect his reputation and establish his deserved place in the history of 20th century art.

The exhibition illustrates the artist’s versatility and includes portraits, self portraits, still lifes, townscapes, landscapes and even his plastic alphabet. One of the standout townscape works is the intensely mysterious Paysage Nocturne à Lille (1901). Another wintry painting is Toits de Paris Sous la Neige (1902), an atmospheric snowstorm scene captured at eyre level. The standout landscape Paysage Méridional (1924) reveals such a sunny disposition. La Vieux Pont à Bruges (1906) and La Place Maubert (1907) are explosions of vibrant colour. Auguste Herbin believed, “The more abstract art is, the more it expresses personality. The more abstract art is, the more it identifies with a thousand and one personalities.” Nature Morte Aux Feuilles  (1917) does just that.

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Murlough Country House + Dundrum Down

The Business of Heaven on Earth

County Down, the east coast riviera of the north of Ireland, is blessed with large Georgian houses. The five bay two storey variety with all the upright prettiness of a doll’s house is especially prevalent in the southern half of this county. Woodford House, Dromara; Milltown House, Lenaderg; Beech Park, Leansmount and Kilmore House, all in Lurgan; Tullymurry House, Newry; Cabragh House, Rathfriland; and Annaghanoon House, Waringstown are just a few examples.

Murlough Country House (formerly known as Murlough Farm) on Keel Point betwixt Dundrum Bay and Murlough Bay looks earlier than most. The roof is higher; the wall to window ratio greater; the window boxes deeper. It firmly falls into the category ‘middling sized houses’ (a phrase originally adapted by Sir Charles Brett from Maurice Craig’s 1976 Classic Houses of the Middle Size) in Philip Smith’s 2019 guide to architecture in South County Down, a continuation of Charlie’s series. The windowsills and entrance door are painted peach to match the colour of the jagged brick eaves.

We spoke to leaders in tourism and the arts to garner their views ahead of staying at the house and experiencing the local village of Dundrum. Tim Knox, Director of the Royal Collection, observes, “Murlough Country House is indeed a rather fine house, charmingly Irish and looking very good newly harled and painted.” Charles Plante, international tastemaker and former Art Advisor to Sir Hardy Amies, Queen Elizabeth II’s dressmaker, remarks, “This house brings together neoclassical and provincial architecture in an appealing vernacular – the Georgian style at its best and rarest in Ireland.”

David Roberts, Director of Strategic Development at Tourism NI, elaborates, “Northern Ireland’s heritage is a cornerstone of our tourism offering. For more than a decade, Tourism NI and our partners have been working closely together to drive investment in high quality heritage experiences and accommodation which are attractive to visitors. Our research has shown that the ‘culturally curious’ segment of visitors represents great potential for being attracted to Northern Ireland in the future.”

He tells us, “Historic buildings can provide exciting, place based visitor experiences which can encourage longer stays in one location and more local exploring. Promoting connections between places and a more regionally balanced tourism sector are key objectives for the emerging Northern Ireland tourism strategy. The visitor brand for Northern Ireland ‘Embrace A Giant Spirit’ embodies and draws inspiration from the area’s heritage. Tourism NI is delighted to have Murlough Country House as a provider of high quality visitor accommodation. It provides a fantastic base for visitors to explore the Mournes and the wider area.”

Philip Smith writes, “The first Murlough House was not the large Victorian era Italianate style villa built by Lord Downshire but this smaller less formal yet in many respects more interesting house about one kilometre to the east. It is a charming unpretentious two storey over high basement block with a steeply pitched hipped roof, large multiphase but relatively homogeneous triple pile return and two sturdy centrally positioned chimneystacks.” Mourne Farm started out as a slim rectangular block with a central staircase return wing. An extension either side of the return enlarged the building: the blocked up rear elevation windows of the 18th century house became cupboards. Horn free sashes give way to the later horned variety.

He notes that the long straight tree lined avenue is a good indicator of age and is likely to be early 18th century despite not appearing on Oliver Sloane’s Down Map of 1739. The present house is marked on Kennedy’s Map of 1755. The Centre for Archaeology Fieldwork at Queen’s University Belfast completed an Excavation Report of Blundell’s House at Dundrum Castle in 2009. Included in this report is a 1758 ink, graphite and wash drawing by Mary Delany titled The Ruins of Dundrum Castle. In the background it appears to show Murlough Farm albeit three rather than five bays wide. The Delanys rented Mount Panther three kilometres to the north of Dundrum around that time.

Philip continues, “Since the mid 1600s, the Blundells had been absentees and thereafter their house may have been occupied by their agents; but by 1748 the ‘slate house by the castle of Dundrum’ was reported to be in ‘disrepair’ and not long after this ‘Murlough House’ begins to appear in the record; it may well, therefore, have been built as a replacement.” The hillside and hilltop ruins of the 12th century Dundrum Castle form a spectacular backdrop to the village and the perfect vantage point to survey the Ancient Kingdom of Mourne.

Dr Ciarán Reilly records in The Evolution of the Irish Land Agent: The Management of the Blundell Estate in the 18th century, 2018, that the career of father and son Henry and John Hatch as agents of the 5,600 hectare Blundell Estate lasted over 50 years. The Dublin based Henry Hatch, taking up his position in 1747, would have housed property managers at Murlough Farm. The 3rd Marquess of Downshire, a Blundell descendant, would deliver a 91 metre long pier for Dundrum in the early 19th century. The Downshire family still retains a house in Murlough.

The Armstrong family lived in Murlough Country House from 1991 to 2023 before selling it to the current owners. Belfast architect Dawson Stelfox advised on heritage matters. “We restored the blue slate and copper nail roof,” Elaine Armstrong confirms, “and added hipped roofs over the two flat roofed extensions to the back. We also added the authentic orangery style Conservatory. When we got the front door lock restored, the craftsman said the key dates from 1730. It’s a special building and we fell in love with it. We’re so thrilled to see it being brought back into life as holiday accommodation.”

Like many Belfast citizens, Clive Staples Lewis developed an early love of the Mourne Mountains. Or the Mourne Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty as it’s now known: all 57,000 protected hectares. The novelist, theologian and mathematician wrote, “I have seen landscapes, notably in the Mourne Mountains and southwards which under a particular light made me feel that at any moment a giant might raise his head over the next ridge. I yearn to see County Down in the snow; one almost expects to see a march of dwarves dashing past. How I long to break into a world where such things were true.”

The restoration of Murlough Country House and its 2.4 hectare estate – a little piece of Narnia – is an essay on correct conservation, surpassing any former glory. The courtyard facing elevation, or southeast front, is different in character to the entrance front. All three storeys are on full display and the series of hipped roofs lends it the delineated air of a château. The white painted harling of the house so admired by Tim Knox contrasts with the grey rubblestone and cut stone of the outbuildings. This is holiday accommodation at its finest.

On the lower ground floor, the large southeast facing Shield’s Conservatory with a dining table for 12 people projects into the courtyard. Agar’s Snug, a cosy room with a wood burning stove leads off the professional chef’s standard Shield’s Kitchen fitted with Shaker style cupboards. Blundell is an accessible bedroom and shower room suite. No 18th century house is complete without a Boot Room.

At ground floor level, the elegant Entrance Hall terminated by a flying dogleg staircase is flanked by Maitland, a drawing room, and Downshire, a cinema. Formerly a dining room, a dumb waiter still connects Downshire to the lower ground floor. The Entrance Hall spans three metres and three centuries of living (from 18th century elegance to 21st century technology). An abbreviated enfilade. Mitchell is the king size ground floor bedroom with a shower room next door. It’s impossible to tell it was once the kitchen. Four first floor bedrooms look out across the gardens to Murlough National Nature Reserve and onwards to the Mountains of Mourne. A tasteful roundelay.

Annesley is the principal suite and faces northwest with views onto the side lawn. The walls are painted ‘clover’ in the Edward Bulmer range. A vintage Louis de Poortere rug adds even more vibrancy. Dual aspect super king size Armstrong bedroom occupies the full depth of the 18th century main block. Two shuttered northwest facing windows set into the thick walls frame the front lawn and paddock; a third window overlooks the driveway. The king size Macartney also overlooks the front lawn and paddock. Lore has it that the handblown glass in the two sash windows of this room was salvaged from a Jacobean house. Magennes is a northeast facing king size bedroom. A former nursery, this sunny yellow room was featured in a Farrow and Ball book. We recognise Nina Campbell and Christopher Farr curtains and cushions.

“Oh I do love a bit of T ‘n’ G,” our friend Min Hogg, Founding Editor of The World of Interiors, told us over coffee one time in her nursery floor apartment above the treetops of Brompton Square in London. There’s plenty of tongue and groove panelling in these bedrooms. Naming rooms is very much a South County Down tradition: think Mourne Park House. At Murlough, the rooms are called after families associated with the house and area. No 21st century country house is complete without a Sauna.

The abutting estates of Murlough Country House and Murlough House share a coastal landmass of great natural beauty attached to mainland all protected by the National Trust. Wetlands on one side, sandy beach on the other. Designated in 1967, Murlough is Ireland’s first National Nature Reserve and has the country’s best and most extensive dune heath. We stroll through its 280 unspoiled hectares. Wildflowers, wildfowl, wild ponies (everything is wild); unbothered living, forever steeped in Sunday stillness … it’s hard to believe Belfast is only 50 kilometres away and Dublin 150 kilometres. We care to disagree with Clive Staples Lewis, “Adventures are never fun while you’re having them.”

Now London based, artist Anne Davey Orr shares her reflections with us from across the water on Murlough. As Founding Editor and Publisher of Ulster Architect magazine, former Board Member of Belfast Civic Trust, Arts Council, National Trust, Design Council and Chair of The Lyric Theatre Belfast she is well placed. “Murlough or Muirbolc in Gaelige means ‘seabag’ or ‘inlet’. The modesty of this title hides its importance on a number of levels.”

Anne continues, “These heartlands of the MacCartan and MacGuinness clans were forfeited to John de Courcy when he marched on Ulster in his attempts to conquer Ireland. MacGuinness Castle was renamed Dundrum Castle. Donal Oge MacCartan, a MacGuinness cousin, surrendered the castle in 1601 to Lord Mountjoy, in Irish terms renowned for the gaol named after him in Dublin. In 1605 it was made over to Lord Cromwell and sold to Sir George Blundell in 1636.”

Maurice Craig states in The Architecture of Ireland, 1982, “John de Courcy set out from Dublin and took Downpatrick in 1176. He married the daughter of the King of Man and kept princely state himself, founding Inch Abbey and (through his wife) Grey Abbey, and beginning the castles of Carrickfergus and Dundrum.” The layering of the centuries. The entrance to Murlough Country House encapsulates the duality of its character: simple square capped pillars heralding a farmhouse; a stretch of walls attached to either side suggesting something grander. On the far side of the main road, the Slidderyford Dolmen – a megalithic portal tomb – makes Dundrum Castle look positively modern.

Neighbour Edward ‘Ned’ Cummins calls by for coffee in Shield’s Conservatory. We get chatting: “I’ve lived here all my life. My dad came to work here with horses on this farm when he was 14 years of age. I own the retired racehorses in the field next door. If I hadn’t accepted them they would’ve gone to France to be eaten. The proper way into this house was down my lane before what they call the ‘Downshire Bridge’ was built. Before that there was a wooden bridge. Where would you get a causeway like that going to a private house?”

Coffee and conversation are flowing. “The Yanks stayed here during the War. The trees down the driveway are all big trees but you come to a place that is nice and flat and they’re very small trees. The Americans cut the trees down and brought aeroplanes into that field there. They took over this whole farm too. There’s a strip out there for the planes to land. There was a load of Nissan huts round the back. They’re all gone now. The Annesleys bought this place for £12,000 I would say shortly after the War. They built the bathroom extension in the 70s. It’s block not stone. The buildings behind the house are the Coach House, Middle Barn, Piggeries and Woodworker’s Barn. The one roomed Bothy was the gamekeeper’s house.”

Ned ends, “Brunel designed SS Great Britain and it ran aground in Dundrum Bay in 1846. The captain got drunk and ran it straight into the sand bar. Brunel came over and stayed in the Downshire Arms Hotel for about a year. He orchestrated strapping the ship and hacking it up to get it seaworthy again. SS Great Britain was the first iron hulled screw propelled steamship.”

Peeling ourselves away from Murlough Country House, we wend our way into Dundrum, the gourmet capital of South County Down. Thrice. Colour seeps into Irish village architecture and Dundrum is no exception. Lunch is in Mourne Seafood Bar (the exterior is painted duck egg blue on the ground floor, goose grey on the upper floors and the northeast wing is sorbet yellow). Dinner in The Buck’s Head (painted olive green). Drinks in The Dundrum Inn (pineapple yellow and blackcurrant purple). The striking house with a gable clock and weathervane opposite Mourne Seafood Bar is salmon pink. Next morning coffee is in Cúpla with its damson blue signage – its name comes from the Irish for twins after Dominque and Shane Gibben who own the café.

But first there’s a visit to Dundrum Coastal Rowing Club. Andrew Boyd and Robert Graham proudly show off two boats they’ve built: Danny Buoy and Mystic Wave. “It started off as a community project to reconnect people round this coastline with our boat building heritage,” explains Robert. Traditional St Ayles skiffs were built by locals along the County Down coast from Donaghadee to Dundrum. “It took us six months to build Danny Buoy. We finished it the night before the 2016 Skiff World Championship Rowing Race. We just got it out into the bay to give it a test that it floated and then went straight into the race and won! We generated lots of interest and so we ordered the second kit and built Mystic Wave.”

Andrew is the founder of Kilmegan Cider. He relates, “I started about a mile away from Dundrum. It was my parents’ orchard and every year when we were younger we had to gather up the apples and store them in boxes. Waste not! We’d make a wee bit of apple wine and there was one year I went down and all the apples were lying on the ground. The fieldfares and redwings were having a field day. I decided to try a batch of cider with an old winepress. So it started as a hobby and grew from there. I registered it in 2014.” Kilmegan Cider has been winning national and international awards ever since.

It’s time for lunch in Mourne Seafood Bar which is in the former Downshire Arms Hotel, a grand three storey building dominating Main Street. Owner Chris McCann joins us. “Bob McCoubrey launched Mourne Seafood Bar in Dundrum in 2005 and in Belfast a year later. We took over the Dundrum restaurant seven years ago. Chris Wayne is our Head Chef. We stick to what the brand is – it’s in the name – and just have one meat dish on our menu. Our mussels come from Strangford Lough. Our oysters come from Carlingford – they have a sweetness and there’s a consistency of quality and supply. Wednesday night is lobster night. We’ve 10 guest bedrooms too.”

Samphire, known as ‘sea asparagus’, is a popular garnish foraged from Murlough Beach. Nowhere in Ireland is further than 85 kilometres from the coast. In Dundrum, make that one kilometre. Reisling served has the surprising label ‘Donaghadee’: the German winemaker married a County Down lass. Platters arrive – this is tasting on an epic scale! Cracked crab claws, langoustines and mignonette oysters. We devour the entire starters menu.

“All our food is farm or sea to plate,” welcomes Bronagh McCormick who took over The Buck’s Head with her business partner Head Chef Alex Greene in April 2024. He’s a regular on the TV programme Great British Menu. The pub was built in 1834. She records, “We’ve 75 covers in our dining room and we’re opening rooms for guests to stay over. We’re kept pretty busy with dinner reservations at least four weeks in advance.” Wheaten bread made with treacle sums up the menu: local with a twist. Pan roast salmon with gnocchi and charred broccoli continues the Dundrumesque seafood theme. Alex tells us later they also own the Fish and Farm Shop in nearby Newcastle. They’re custodians of produce.

“There’s nothing we’re not trying and there’s nothing we’re not doing,” Alex shares over coffee and cakes in Cúpla. “It’s very much an evolving product. We’ve a lot of repeat business, especially on a Sunday. We run Sunday lunch up to 7pm. We’ll add a couple more vegetarian options but if you put too many dishes on the menu the quality starts to drop. It’s better selling 30 of one dish in a day than three of 100. But you don’t want to make the menu too small either with not enough choice for people. Our meat mostly comes from my family farm three miles up the road.”

The Dundrum Inn, a few doors down from The Buck’s Head, is the perfect place to pull a late night Guinness and order a nightcap (make that a round of Kilmegan Ciders) in the large beer garden while being entertained by live music. The Dundrum Inn has been going for 190 years so far and is still a social hub. “Dundrum Village Association organises the Summer Festival,” says Community Leader Alan Cooley. “It brings everyone together. Food stalls, bands, circus performers and a raft race fill a Saturday each July.”

“Let’s go out on our boat!” is a thrilling suggestion by our hosts upon leaving Cúpla. Soon we’re riding the waves fantastic. Leaving behind Dundrum Bay to enter the Irish Sea, looking back, the castle has vanished under a cloud and gradually landmass fades to grey and disappears. Splash, crash, splash, crash! We’re now in the midst of the vast grey sea which has merged with the vast grey sky. There’s no horizon; everything’s grey. A grey seal swims by giving us side eye.

We recall Andrew Boyd telling us, “When you get the high tide running out of the bay and you have a bit of a southerly wind, there’s a roar of the sea known as Tonn Ruairí. This is the ‘Wave of Rory’ named after a Viking who drowned in Dundrum Bay from the forces of a mystic wave. It makes a crashing roaring sound. As much as the sea round here is beautiful you need to respect it.”

Brian de Breffny, writing in Castles of Ireland, 1977, breaks away from conventional architectural historian mode to wax lyrical, “Something of Dundrum’s distant Celtic past seems to cling mysteriously to the castle and its wooded hillside. Perhaps more than any other place in Ireland, it suggests too the world of the Norman adventurers and mercenaries – conquerors and Crusaders who fortified a castle in Ulster and talked there of the palace castles of the Seleucid rulers they had seen in the East – the world of the overmighty barons and Plantagenet kings.” Almost half a century later, his words still ring true.

There was a sense of crossing a border when we went over that triple arched causeway for the first time … we’d crossed a line into a slight otherness. And when Murlough Country House appeared, there was a sensation of arrival, of distant belonging. We would succumb to the enchantment of days spent passed in South County Down. Later, much later, unfurling thoughts and images of Dundrum, we realise anew it’s a place to experience the serious business of joy. And to parrot Clive Staples Lewis, “We meet no ordinary people in our lives.” And visit no ordinary places.

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Pont Street + 11 Cadogan Gardens Hotel Chelsea London

Beautiful as a Story

“Architectural fashion is so often a reaction to what went immediately before. There’s even a perceptible difference between the father A W Pugin and the son E W Pugin’s work. The second generation architect’s designs are more rationalised,” believes artist and architectural publisher Anne Davey Orr. “Later, the use of concrete in the 20th century would issue in a much more open expression of materials and structure.”

The penultimate decades of the last two centuries both stuck to something of a “more is more” mantra. A sort of turn of the century syndrome. Eclecticism gone wild. Not without honour and slightly mad. Pont Street for the 1880s and 90s; Postmodernism for the 1980s and 90s. Out went conformity and goodbye to context; in came variety and hello to contrast. It was the ever inventive cartoonist Osbert Lancaster who came up with the name Pont Street Dutch due to the style flourishing in Chelsea. It could easily have been North German Revival, Flemish Revival or New Queen Anne. Or even Hans Town or Cadogan. Sir John Betjeman abbreviated it to Pont Street, making it even more geographically precise. He calls it the “new built red as hard as the morning gaslight” in his poem The Arrest of Oscar Wilde at the Cadogan Hotel. These days the SW postcodes are as golden as they are terracotta.

That’s the name explained but who invented the style? Architect John James Stevenson claimed Queen Anne as his creation. The practice Ernest George and Harold Peto produced some of the most overblown examples in Harrington Gardens but really the style was to become synonymous with the dominating work of Norman Shaw. Pont Street rang the death knell, scrawled the writing on the wall, beckoned the banshee for regular terraces, heralding an asymmetric age of individualism. “Look at me, look at me!” screams each house as the rooflines tipsily whoosh and swoosh over more Dutch gables than Keizersgracht. Against the navy canvas of a sun drenched winter’s morning, and to be repeated nine years later on a sun drenched summer’s morning, the red brick dressed with white stone renders Pont Street a patriotic tricolour.

Such strength of character allows 20th century blips such as the picture window spanning the penthouse of 41 Lennox Gardens to be immersed into the wider townscape. The houses celebrate their birthdays: “1884” shouts 25 Lennox Gardens from metre tall letters on its third floor. A few doors up, 43 Lennox Gardens announces to the world it’s a year younger. A wander in wonder along the streets of SW1 and SW3, the blessed boulevards of the Cadogan Estate, throws up a maximalist impure visual feast, an aesthetic eyeful, for the devil and angels are in the detail.

At a glance, here are some of the hyperactive highlights. Keyhold silhouette broken pediment copper domes in Sloane Gardens. Double decker dormers in Culford Gardens. Witch’s hat copper turrets where Draycott Place meets Blacklands Terrace. Quoined porthole windows peering out of 54 to 58 Draycott Place. A neo Elizabethan fretwork loggia hugging 3 Cadogan Gardens. Pierless Brighton balconies clinging onto 85 to 87 Cadogan Gardens. A château mansard atop 89 Cadogan Gardens. Twin Queen Anne fanlights surmounting the doorcase of 105 Cadogan Gardens. Stumpy Ionic pilasters holding up egg and dart capitals framing the porch of 60 Cadogan Square. A pair of ballsy busty bulbous oriel windows on the side elevation of 63 Cadogan Square. And that’s just at a glance.

Pont Street the address bisects Cadogan Place Gardens under the watchful eyes of the 18 storeyed 1961 Jumeirah Carlton Tower. But the great swathe of red is mostly found between Sloane Street and Lennox Gardens. The extremities of Pont Street dive back into stuccoland. A morning of architectural investigation must be balanced by an afternoon of gourmet indulgence. Historically, afternoon tea was the outcome of dinner slipping to beyond 7pm by the opening years of the 19th century. Hiccupping ladies at first surreptitiously downed tea and gobbled cake in their boudoirs after midday. By 1842, trailblazing trendsetting taboo busting gal about castle Anna Maria Russell, 7th Duchess of Bedford, was bolshily dispensing tea in her sitting room to fill the gap created by the evening meal becoming later and later thanks to gaslighting. Fast forward to the Pont Street era and both sexes were merrily letting rip into cucumber sandwiches and scones with clotted cream in the drawing room or on the lawn. Where better then to indulge than 11 Cadogan Gardens, the hotel launched by the eponymous Estate in 2012? A Darjeeling fuelled calorific high awaits: Carrot Cake Explosion; Chocolate Fudge Bar; Lemon Drizzle Loaf; Macarons; Raspberry Orange Battenburg.

The first part of the hotel’s name is mildly misleading: the reception rooms and 54 bedrooms are spread across four townhouses (“5, 7, 9 and 11 Cadogan Gardens” being something of a mouthful). Bright red brick with white trimmings, in some places to stripy effect (more bands than a 12th of July march); terracotta tracery and scrolls; rusticated Doric columns and shortened Ionic columns; rectangular metal balconies and semicircular brick balconies; windows of every frame and shape and type (more casements than a West Belfast cemetery; and again more sashes than a 12th of July march) and orientation (more than a Pride march in London); oriels, chamfered bays and rectangular bays; flat, round arched and segmental arched windows; mini, Dutch and swan neck gables; 11 Cadogan Gardens is as dynamic Pont Street as it gets. The last part of the hotel’s name is wildly accurate. It faces a densely treed green square. The only two London members of the exclusive Relais et Châteaux group are 11 Cadogan Gardens and its sister hotel further round the square, The Chelsea Townhouse.
The interior is just as eclectic. A maze of lacquered cloistered sequestered panelled hallways and lobbies and corridors and passageways leads into the consciously picturesque opalescent Drawing Room. Starched linen at the ready, afternoon tea awaits, designed to instil a divine inertia into the remainder of a stimulating day. Decked and bedecked, espaliered and jardinièred, the Terrace is tucked between the townhouses and the mews. Alive with remote anticipation, it’s a place to dwell on the meaningfulness of life. Another surprising place is the Versailles inspired Mirrored Hall, a space designed to contemplate the advantage of beauty. Monochromatic photographs of supermodels line the descending staircase to the basement gym. Oil paintings of aristos line the ascending staircase to the bedrooms. Souls of different ages bordering the universe in process of consummation. This hotel has a distinct and dynamic personality, one that is warm and sensuous.

Over to the father of town planning Manning Robertson of Huntington Castle, County Carlow, for some pontification on not just Pont Street but classification itself. Everyday Architecture, 1948, “Definitions of architecture are as unsatisfactory as any other expositions of the aim and meaning of the arts; but if architecture is to be alive at all it must clearly involve the erection of buildings to suit the demands of the period, and the embellishment of those buildings according to the dictates of the materials in use, the treatment being a direct reflection of the outlook of the epoch, based of course upon past work, insofar as it is applicable. We cannot say that the 19th century, which produced principally a dead copying of the past, did not reflect itself truly; it was, on the contrary, amazingly accurate in illustrating that the worship of material prosperity is not consistent with a high level of art.”

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Notre Dame Church + Tudor Garden Calais

Epiphanic Moments

On two glorious summer mornings, six years apart, we’re twice smitten by the shy charm of Calais and its most passionately historic monument. Eight centuries of art and beauty, faith and form, in glorious harmony. The grey spire of Notre Dame Church rising above the White City residential architecture of Calais is as beautiful as it is unexpected. What’s not to admire?

· 1214: A small stone church is erected.

· 1224: It is extended to become a parish church which will be subsumed into the final building.

· 1347: Calais is captured by the Plantagenets in August and the Archbishop of Canterbury becomes head of Notre Dame. The nave is heightened, the side aisles widened and a belltower is built above the intersection of the nave and transept. Flemish masons add their twist to the Perpendicular English architecture.

· 1469: On 11 July George Plantagenet, 1st Duke of Clarence, marries Isabel Neville in the church.

· 1558: Calais remains under English control until it is recaptured in January by Scarface, 3rd Duke of Guise. It then falls under Spanish control for a while.

· 1560: St Nicholas Church is demolished making Notre Dame the top place of worship in the city.

· 1598: Under The Treaty of Vervins between King Henri IV and King Phillipe II of Spain, Calais becomes French again. Phew!

· 1600: A side chapel is built. The church is now 88 metres long and has over 6,000 congregants.

· 1624: Adam Lottman, a sculptor from Coulogne, creates the tripartite marble and alabaster high altar, 10 metres high by 10.3 metres wide. Statues of St Louis and Charlemagne are mounted on either side with Christ at the top of the retable.

· 1629: Assumption of the Virgin Mary, a vast painted by Gérard Séghers, a student of Rubens, is placed in the centre of the high altar.

· 1631: The Lady Chapel is added.

· 1802: After being converted to a Temple of Reason during the French Revolution, the church is reconsecrated. Double phew!

· 1863: The Dean of Calais commissions plasterwork decoration of the vaults.

· 1921: General Charles de Gaulle marries local lass Yvonne Vendroux in the church on 7 April. Signs will be erected throughout the city over the intervening years to remind visitors of the marriage.

· 1944: Allied Forces bombard Calais and the 58 metre high belltower of Notre Dame falls through the roof into north transept.

· 1963: Reconstruction of the nave and belltower begins.

· 1970: The roof is put back.

· 1976: Stained glass windows by Gérard Lardeur are inserted to fill the medieval mullions and transoms.

· 2009: The Association for the Development of the Architectural Heritage of the Calaisis begins restoration work.

· 2010: English landscape architect Caroline Holmes is commissioned by the Association to create a Tudor Garden. She explains, “The garden is named after the dynasty that ruled over Calais during the period 1485 to 1603. The design and planting of the garden is inspired by the interior of the church.”

· 2010: Queen Elizabeth II visits and inspects the new Notre Dame de Calais Rose in the Tudor Garden.

· 2014: The jewel of the Pale of Calais is fully restored. Our Lady lives again. Triple phew!

· 2018: Lavender’s Blue visit Notre Dame, inspecting the subtly restored interior and walking round the Tudor Garden which is taking shape.

· 2024: Lavender’s Blue revisit Notre Dame, inspecting the subtly restored exterior only as the doors are shut and walking round the Tudor Garden which is in full bloom.

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Calais + 20th Century Architecture

Within the Pale

Northern France did not get off lightly in World War II and Calais was among the worst casualties. Notre Dame Church is one of the few built environment survivors and even it was badly damaged. The city became more void than place. The Ministry of Reconstruction and Town Planning was established in November 1944 by President Charles de Gaulle. Under the direction of its Minister Raoul Dautry who held the post from 1944 to 1946, Government architects, planners and engineers who had been in office since 1940 and survived the war formed the backbone of this new department.

Ruins were cleared and construction got underway in Calais in 1948. The original overseeing architect, Jean Gondolo, promoted low rise buildings varying in style between White City flat roofed boxiness and red brick pitched and hipped roof domesticity. Flemish details, especially curvy gables, add a surprisingly retro charm to his Rue Royale. But a visit by Eugène Claudius-Petit, the Minister from 1948 to 1952, resulted in the local architect being sidelined. The Minister dismissed Jean Gondolo’s work as not sufficiently Modern or high rise and he took over the role of city architect. Place d’Armes opening off Rue Royale is more closely aligned with the Modernism and scale of Eugène’s friend Le Corbusier’s oeuvre. Seven decades later, Calais is viewed as a place to pass through rather than visit. A midpoint, not endpoint. Its richness of postwar reconstruction architecture bypassed or unseen. But there is much to behold for the trained and trainable eye.

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Wimereux + Lavender’s Blue

L’Été le Plus Merveilleux

“Yes, next summer will be wonderful.” Monsters by Emerald Fennell, 2015

The Opal Coast is yet again where all the big hitters are headed as the mercury rises and if it was good enough for Napoléon IIIWimereux has glamour in spadefuls.

Frédéric Debussche et al write in Le Guide Boulogne-Sur-Mer, 2013, “To the north of Boulogne, beyond Pointe de la Crèche, extends the pretty seaside resort of Wimereux, established as a commune in 1899. Until then, the site constituted the maritime fringe of Wimille, where the nobility of Boulogne built opulent castles including Lozembrune. Established in an indentation of the coast, Wimereux was until the middle of the 19th century both the outpost and the extension of the Boulogne defence. Napoléon I built a point there and stationed 8,000 men as part of the Boulogne Development Camp. It was on the beach that his nephew Louis Napoléon Bonaparte ran aground in 1840 during his attempted coup d’état. After the Second Camp of Boulogne, led by the latter who became Napoléon III, Wimereux became a popular vacation spot. A casino and sumptuous hotels stand on the seafront and contribute to the emergence of the seaside resort whose appeal has never waned and in which the numerous Belle Époque villas were spared by the bombings of the last war.”

Benoît Diéval of the Pas-de-Calais Tourist Office doesn’t hold back: “Wimereux is timeless and utterly ravishing! It might be the oldest of our seaside resorts, but what panache! Wimereux was officially established by a decree issued by Napoléon I ordering the foundation of a town along the River Wimereux. It really came into its own during the Second Empire with the extension of the Boulogne to Calais railway line and the popularity of sea bathing. Wimereux continues to seduce visitors.” In 1867, Wimereux became a stop on the Paris to Calais line.

It’s a tiny town of vibrant villas and blue and white beach huts. At the end of the 19th century, exuberant Anglo Norman terraces, Art Deco villas, Gothic compressions of châteaux and actual châteaux were built along the seawall and accompanying grid of streets. Houses representing the tastes and foibles of some residents navigating their ascent up the social hierarchy, others plateauing. The architecture is more colourful than its English counterparts – late Victorian and Edwardian – with gaily painted half timbered gables and ceramic tiled walls. Balconies and bow windows and towers and turrets spring up and out in all directions.

In 1900 the beach huts were erected in a long row, sometimes two deep, along the promenade La Digue. Their names on a central stretch are Anne Florence; Le haut Courtil; Manou; La Flambée; Les Sternes; Bon Accueil; Antoinette; Horizon; Le Plessis; Lalot; Régina; Notre Dame des Dunes; Les Perles; Mickey; Graziella; Rud Vent; Madame Claude; Bonne Maman; L’Arche; Avant la Tempête; Charlotte; Sabine; Kerida; La Marmaille. A door sign on one hut states: “C’est pas Versailles ici!”

QR Codes on the pillars of some of the villas link to Valorisons Wimereux. This heritage society provides details of the architectural history of the town, emphasising its stylistic variety. A petite two storey gabled rendered house with single storey wings: “Napoléonette is one of the oldest villas in Wimereux. It was built in 1867 for Jean Lartigue, a senior civil servant.” A three storey over raised basement rendered house with a corner tower: “La Malouine is named after the first owner’s mother who was from St Malo. This magnificent Art Deco villa of 1910 has survived the wars.”  A squarish two storey house with a semicircular pediment: “Sans Adieu was built in 1913 by the architect Emile Vandenbeusch as a second home for Paul Vermelle of Lille. It is a resolutely modern house for its time, made of local stone.” A substantial two and a half storey red brick and stone house: “Villa Le Clos Flamand was built in 1922 by the architect Charles Bourgeois for the Lesay family of Lille.”

Rue Carnot is the classy shopping street which bisects the town roughly north to south. Purveyors of fine food include the charcuterie La Belle Viande and the chocolaterie Chocolat de Beussent Lachelle. Wimereux is blessed with four glorious Channel beaches. The sandy Plage de Wimereux is the most central. Plage Nord is separated from Plage de Wimereux by the River Wimereux. Plage du Club Nautique, a mix of sand and pebbles, is for water sports. Sandy and pebbly Plage Dunes Slack is close to the cliffs. Benoît Diéval is right. Wimereux is timeless and utterly ravishing!

Yes, this summer in Hauts-du-France is monstrously wonderful.

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Hôtel Atlantic + La Liégeoise Restaurant Wimereux

Toto Le Chien

Daniel Lehmann is President of Jeunes Restaurateurs which brings together 390 high end restaurants and 160 hotels across the Continent. The organisation has 25 French members. He relates, “Facing the sea is the pretty town of Wimereux. La Liégeoise is the gastronomic restaurant of a luxurious hotel, Atlantic. This family establishment is run by the great Chef Benjamin Delpierre and his wife Aurélie. Here, Chef Benjamin offers delicious seafood dishes and innovative cuisine awarded a star in the Michelin Guide. You can dine in the dining room, on the terrace or opt for the hotel’s brasserie, L’Aloze.” Or you can sip at the bar of L’Aloze: cocktails and mocktails; boissons fraîches and boissons chaudes.

Aurélie adds, “Our gourmet restaurant La Liégeoise will leave you with unforgettable memoires. The room impresses with its decoration and panorama of the sea. The food is a perfect mastery of preparation and cooking.” The couple met at the Paris Ritz while working for the two Michelin starred Michel Roth. Benjamin was a graduate of the Lycée Hôtelier du Touquet, a leading hotel school in Paris. They took over the running of the hotel and restaurant in 2019. Benjamin’s parents had bought the hotel in 1995. Alain and Beatrice Delpierre relocated their 13 year old restaurant La Liégeoise from Boulogne-sur-Mer to Wimereux.

Arther Eperon, a Kent resident, reviewed the hotel for The New York Times in 1972, before the Delpierres took over: “If you take the old coast road from Calais, over the cliffs from which Napoléon and Hitler both looked across the Channel and dreamed frustratedly of invading England … Just down the coast is Wimereux, a little resort that resembles a faded print of around 1913; you expect the children shrimping among the rocks to wear sailor suits. The old Atlantic Hotel fits the setting – it has only 10 bedrooms, and there are umbrellas and tables on the pathway promenade where you take aperitifs. But the Atlantic is known to gourmets for its fish menu. The turbot and sole are magnificent, the chausson de crabe (local crabmeat in a flaky pastry) has earned the little hotel high rankings with international guides, and there is an unusual pâte of sea bass in pastry that is delicious.”

Hôtel Atlantic opened in the 1920s and its distinctive Art Deco façade with a central arched frame soon became a focal point of the promenade. In 1938 Chef Patron Michel Hamiot launched a popular rotisserie restaurant in the hotel, a forerunner to La Liégeoise. The back of the hotel was damaged in World War II and the front in the 1980s by a coastal storm. In 2003, the original 10 bedrooms were supplemented by another eight in a new top storey and adjoining terraced house. Most of the bedrooms have a balcony or terrace.

The joy of having a first floor restaurant is the uninterrupted view across the Strait of Dover. Dining one day after the summer solstice only enhances the experience. Just as all 18 bedrooms have sea views, so every table has one too in the stepped restaurant. A hush descends under the chapiteau ceiling as everyone watches agog while the amber sun sets on the horizon, at first reflected, then submerged, then disappearing into the opal hued sea. The surprise cheeseboard arrives and dinner continues as darkness falls.

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Passionné Restaurant Paris + Menu Carte Blanche

Le Neuvième 

“It is true that I put a certain amount of effort into my trimmings, and as for feathers, everyone wears them; what would seem extraordinary would be to wear none.” Marie-Antoinette, 1775

Paris, the city of cafés and restaurants, where there’s always room for one more. The latest addition to the 9th Arrondisement is Passionné, immediately south of St Eugène and St Cécile’s Church in what was once a Jewish quarter. This is the real city, just far enough away from Gare du Nord and les Anglais. Le Magnum Bar on Rue du Faubourg Poissonnière with its cat silhouette sign is typical of the area: chic understatement. The bar backs onto the 95 metre long Rue Ambroise Thomas which is terminated by a rusticated stone wall. You can always catch a performance of Carmen or Lakmé at the Palais Garnier (after all this is Opéra Arrondisement) further to the south again but this part of the Haussmannian grid – Rue Bleue, Rue du Conservatoire, Rue de Paradis, Rue Richer – is slightly off the tourist track.

The 4th Edition of the Michelin Guide was published in summer 1960. It contains pointers for visitors to the 9th Arrondisement: “The Rue de Rivoli and the Rue St Honoré draw women in great numbers, for many elegant shops are in these two streets.” And reiterating the message, “The elegant shops of the Rue St Honoré from the Rue de Castiglione to the Rue Royale are the great attractions for the ladies.” Ladies (and some gentlemen) like to lunch and Passionné had barely opened its discreet doors when it received a Michelin star.

Discreet – make that very discreet. The charcoal grey exterior fronts onto the genteel Rue Bergère and sides onto the gated Cité Rougemont. Translucent window blinds give nothing away. The only clue of an exclusive restaurant’s presence is a brass name plaque beside the entrance door. Inside, it’s all about good looks. Good looking interior: designer Kuniko Takano has created a cocoon of darkness in the city of light. The midnight blue walls could be an advertisement for the 2013 film Blue is the Warmest Colour (like Adèle Exarchopoulus’ blue cardigan; Léa Seydoux’s blue hair; Stéphane Mercoyrol’s blue jacket; the blue disco light; the blue protest march smoke; Baya Rehaz cries, “I love the colour blue”).

Good looking staff: Vanessa Paradis and Jérémie Laheurte types (all assassin black suits and killer cheekbones) deliver concise explanations (“Take one bite because inside it’s liquid!”) and precise instructions (“Eat the dishes in this order!”). Bread is constantly replenished; glassware and cutlery continually renewed. The ground floor service bar and basement kitchen are kept busy. Good looking clientele: goes without saying, birds of a feather.

Les mots du Chef: “Passion is at the heart of our gourmet and seasonal menu. I am delighted to welcome you to our restaurant for an extraordinary culinary experience. I source all the ingredients myself and express my passion in making dishes. I also want to express and honour the French terroir with a selection of delicious vegetables. Hokkaido where I was born and raised is a region of Japan close to the same latitude as Paris. My cuisine is where Japanese spirit and French passion come together.”

Lunch is the Menu Carte Blanche and the Prestige Sept Étapes can be wine paired with Évasion (trois verres) or Prestige (cinq verres). For the truly oenologically curious, start with Philipponnat Champagne, the imbibed equivalent of caviar. And then there is caviar, plenty of that too. Chef Satoshi Horiuchi creates colourful edible artworks in an array of contrasting flavours and textures (beetroot and oil for starters). There may be no feathers but there are plenty of trimmings, some edible (flowers), some decorative (steaming shells). And foam – this is Michelin dining. Courses arrive in baskets, in boxes, on rocks, on pebbles and on smooth or textured crockery. Tablescape as topography.

Ian Nairn (Nairn’s Paris, 1968) calls the French capital, “A collective masterpiece, perhaps the greatest in the world.” Abbott Joseph Liebling (Between Meals: An Appetite for Paris, 1986) calls it, “A city of colonnades.” Jonathan Meades (The Times Restaurant Guide, 2002) features just one restaurant in the 9th Arrondisement, Charlot Roi des Coquillages on Place de Clichy. It closed in 2017. Jonathan stated, “The suited service is charmingly urbane.” A tradition that continues on Rue Bergère. Paris, the city of love, where there’s always room for more romance. And a restaurant living up to its name, Passionné.

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Gosford Castle Markethill Armagh + Thomas Hopper

Norman Gates

In 1970, the Honourable Desmond Guinness, Founder and first President of the Irish Georgian Society, participated in the television programme Whicker’s World. He told the presenter Alan Whicker that, “In England any dovecote by Robert Adam has been written up about 20 times in Country Life.” While the aforementioned magazine featured Gosford House in East Lothian in 1911, it does not appear to have ever included Gosford Castle outside Markethill in County Armagh. Gosford Castle has though appeared in several books on Irish architecture and rightly so.

Brian de Breffny’s Castles of Ireland, 1977, is a serious study of fortresses and fortified houses. He records, “When it was completed after 20 years, Gosford was claimed to be the largest country house in Ireland – a massive complex of circular towers, angular keep, bastions, towerlets and arches linked internally by rambling corridors. Pale granite quarried at Bessbrook in County Armagh was used for its construction. The Norman theme is pursued purposefully and executed with masterful originality.” Gosford Castle is no mean dwelling, but Coolattin and Humewood (both in County Wicklow) as well as Temple House (in County Sligo) would give it a long and strenuous run for its money as Ireland’s largest country house. Its restoration is approaching 20 years in the making.

Mark Girouard in his seminal 1979 work Historic Houses of Britain (before the avalanche of country house coffee table books truly spilled forth) mentions Gosford Castle when writing about Penrhyn Castle in Gwynedd, Wales, “Thomas Hopper had been fashionable ever since George IV – then still Prince Regent – had commissioned a Gothic conservatory from him in 1807 for Carlton House, London. Like most architects of his time, he was prepared to design buildings in almost any style. Hie had already designed one castle and altered another. His new Irish castle was Gosford in County Armagh. It had the distinction of being the first of the new castles to be Norman.”

“By the 1820s there were plenty of new castles but only one other new Norman one, and that in a part of Ireland which relatively few people visited. The reason why most people steered clear of Norman was straightforward. Norman was the oldest, most primitive and uncomfortable of the English styles (except of course Saxon, of which only a handful of churches, and no houses or castles, survived). It was hard enough to build something which looked sufficiently like a castle and was still reasonably comfortable without loading the dice against oneself by making it Norman too.”

The most recently published commentary on the castle comes from Kevin Mulligan, The Buildings of Ireland: South Ulster, 2013. It is part of the series founded by Sir Nikolaus Pevsner and Alistair Rowan similar to that on England, Scotland and Wales. “Set on a ramparted platform in dense woods, Gosford is a great brawny pile. Large and unforgiving, its castellated form rises mirage like, a picturesque grouping of square and circular masses with carefully recessed surface layers and an impressive display of Romanesque detailing. Even in pale granite, the architecture appears grave, a brooding grandiloquent expression of an invented past that represents the most assured instance of a revived Norman style in these islands.”

“It was probably Hopper’s role as arbitrator in a dispute between Nash and Lord O’Neill at Shane’s Castle in Antrim in 1816 that won him the commission here, brought to Lord Gosford’s notice perhaps by his agent William Blacker, who had also acted for O’Neill. It is difficult to gauge the role of the Earl in the actual choice of design, but there is nothing to suggest that he was the innovator. The Romanesque style was never to become popular, the general view holding that the forms of its apertures are inapplicable to our habits. Hopper’s unique feeling for Romanesque forms expressed here, and later in a more ambitious work at Penrhyn Castle in Wales, was undoubtedly conditioned by his birthplace in Rochester … Hopper was to express deep regret that he had come to Ireland, so disillusioned had he become with his patron in 1834. Even then the castle was far from complete.”

“The second phase of work, undertaken by Hopper’s assistant George Adam Burn for the 3rd Earl, involved the creation of a new bastioned entrance on the eastern corner of the north front, along with the completion of the family apartments in the straggling northwest range. The architecture subtly becomes more eccentric and the details more inventive. Adding a new two storey entrance block on the northeast corner, Burn disrupted the formality of its cubic proportions by forming an unusual engaged cylinder as a corner turret to the first floor Billiard Room.”

Sir Charles Brett devoted four pages to Gosford Castle in Buildings of County Armagh, 1999. Charlie’s epic series on the architecture of the Counties of Ulster was cut short by his death six years later. “An important work by one of the leading London architects of the first half of the 19th century, Thomas Hopper, 1776 to 1856. Sir Howard Colvin says that Hopper was an eclectic designer who held the belief that ‘it is an architect’s business to understand all styles, and to be prejudiced in favour of none’, and considers that ‘his most interesting and original works were the two Norman castles in which he effectively combined picturesque massing with a remarkable repertoire of Romanesque detailing which owed something to his familiarity with the 12th century keeps of Rochester and Hedingham.’ His pupils included the young Belfast architect John Millar, who worked on this commission with him, and signed a drawing showing the proposed front elevation.”

“The design was commissioned by Archibald Acheson, 2nd Earl of Gosford, after the previous house had burned down. Mark Bence-Jones says that it was ‘largely paid for by his wife, the daughter and heiress of Robert Sparrow, of Worlingham Hall, Suffolk: so that it is possible that the choice of so strange a style as Norman was hers; she was a lifelong friend of Lady Byron so may have absorbed some of Byron’s exotic and somewhat sinister brand of romanticism.’” Even before the castle was completed, the Gosfords separated and Lady Gosford returned to live in Suffolk where she died in 1841, eight years before her husband. Her Ladyship’s final earthly journey was not without incident. A record from the time states, “On its return journey to County Armagh for burial in the family vault at Mullaghbrack, her coffin was mislaid by the drunken servants whom Lord Gosford had sent to fetch it, and was conveyed by train to somewhere in the Midlands.” Charles Acheson the 7th Earl of Gosford, born in 1942, whose father sold the castle, lives in Suffolk.

Charlie continues, “Gosford is remarkably large, remarkably elaborate, and exceptionally well built – indeed, it appears not just defensible but practically indestructible. It is dominated by its great square keep with corner turrets containing chimneys, with subsidiary round and square towers. Bence-Jones considers that ‘the garden front has a strange beauty; the stone seems pale, Norman becomes more like Southern Romanesque’. The grouping is masterly; the walls are at different angles to each, so that there is a great sense of movement. Although Norman was really unsuited to 19th century living, the interior does not suffer from the heaviness one finds at Penrhyn.”

Bringing the commentary up to date Nicholas Sheaff, first Director of the Irish Architectural Archive, offers these observations in 2024: “The neo Norman style was practised with great conviction by the architect Thomas Hopper in the second quarter of the 19th Century. It was a ‘reinvention of tradition’ (to pirate historian Eric Hobsbawn’s theme) which had its origins in two distinct aesthetic currents. The first current was the neoclassical proclivity for the ‘elemental’ in architecture, awakened by the rediscovery of the Greek temples at Paestum and amplified by the architectural visualisations of Piranesi, particularly his ‘Carceri’ of the 1750s and Paestum etchings of 1778. The second current was the growing pride in British nationhood in the years after Waterloo, with an exploration of the national tradition in architecture and decorative design where the Norman (often dubbed ’Saxon’) was seen as the fountainhead.”

“As the architectural historian Hugh Dixon has suggested, Hopper’s massing of architectural forms at Gosford probably derives from the profile of the great Norman castle of Carrickfergus County Antrim, with its dominating central keep. Hopper’s interior planning embodies a narrative informality which draws on the example of his older contemporary John Nash, each room contributing a fresh spatial and decorative experience to the interior sequence. Hopper’s neo Norman architecture has a sculptural and emotive presence which is the antithesis of the rectilinear, rationalist neoclassical. A lithograph of circa 1830 portrays Gosford Castle in an almost untamed wooded demesne, an irregular architectural grouping set in a vigorous natural environment as advocated by Richard Payne Knight, that leading aesthetician of the picturesque. The lithograph presents a romantic vision of a turbulent landscape under a northern sky, as painted possibly by Jacob van Ruisdael, far distant in its style and impact from the arcadian vistas and golden light of Claude Lorrain.”

It is something of a wonder that Gosford Castle and its demesne both survive for ever since Thomas Hopper put pencil to paper it has had a rocky time. Financial constraints, disputes and overseas sojourns slowed down construction. In 1821 the outbuildings were progressing; in 1828 the Portland stone staircase was erected; in 1833 plasterers and joiners were working on the main rooms; in 1835 Lord Gosford became Governor in Canada for four years; in 1840 Newry architect Thomas Duff took over designing alterations and additions although Thomas Hopper remained involved at some level; in 1852 the Armagh Guardian reported that “a number of tradesmen are now engaged finishing the remaining wing of this building”; in 1864 the 3rd Earl died and the house became a family shooting lodge; in 1888 the 4th Earl sold the library; in 1921 he sold the rest of the contents; in 1940 the British army occupied the house; and in 1978 the Northern Ireland Forestry Commission acquired the 240 hectare demesne and castle. At least Gosford Castle didn’t burn down like its Georgian predecessor which had ended up a charred ruin in 1805.

An estate acquisition by the Forestry Commission normally rang the death knell for a house (not least Pomeroy House in County Tyrone) but somehow even after a failed stint leased to a hotel, Gosford Castle has survived relatively unscathed. The unrelenting permanence of this mountain of a house built of local stone rooted in geography and history continues to shine like a beacon in the woods. The road to its revival has not been smooth and is a story of changing ownership, court cases and construction delays – all sounding familiar as history repeats itself. Hopefully the restoration won’t take longer than the original construction.

At the opening of the 21st century, the Belfast architectural practice The Boyd Partnership led by Arthur Acheson (no relation to the Gosfords) was commissioned by the developer Gosford Castle Development Ltd to design the conversion of Gosford Castle into 23 homes. Arthur had form. He had restored the 17th century Finnebrogue House near Downpatrick and converted outbuildings to residential use. Arthur and his wife lived at Finnebrogue from 1994 until 2009. He died earlier this year. In her condolences, Lord Lieutenant of Belfast Dame Fionnuala Jay-O’Boyle noted the architect was founding Chair of Belfast Civic Trust.

The rockiest of times had immediately preceded The Boyd Partnership’s involvement. Marcus Patton reported in the Summer 2006 Heritage Review of the Ulster Architectural Heritage Society that, “It is one of fewer than 200 Grade A Listed Buildings in Northern Ireland and is arguably our most important building at risk. The Society has maintained a keen interest in its future, and for those with knowledge of its recent history the confirmation of its sale for £1,000 to a private developer on 6 January will have come as something of a surprise.”

“Perhaps the most disappointing aspect of this process has been the lack of vision shown by central Government as the long term custodian of the castle. We all recognise the significant challenges that such a building can present, and we want to see it sympathetically restored. However this surely could have been achieved in a manner which would have allowed public access to the most important internal spaces as well as facilitating wider economic regeneration.” The Society was concerned about the loss of internal architectural detailing and spatial integrity through the conversion process.

Just before his death, Arthur explained, “In the design of this restoration we as a company decided to break away from the typical apartment model usually associated with conversions of Listed Buildings. Instead we opted to develop the castle as a series of individual homes, each with their own front door, hallway, staircase and in some cases, as many as four floors of accommodation. These unique homes range in size from 92 square metres to 371 square metres.” The average sized three bedroom house in the UK is 88 square metres. This vertical arrangement maximised character and minimised room subdivision. Country townhouses.

The contract value of the development is £8 million; work began in 2006 and is well progressed in 2024. This restoration and conversion is in three phases: firstly, the western part of the family wing and the southern part of the courtyard into eight houses; secondly, the northern part of the courtyard into four houses; and thirdly, the eastern part of the family wing and all of the main block into 11 houses. The cylindrical tower is one of the self contained houses. The neo Norman decorative plasterwork and panelling of the principal rooms such as the Library have been restored. It is unknown if any of the military graffiti scrawled on internal walls will be retained in situ. The demesne is open to the public as a forest park.

Dixie Deane records a structure that predates the castle in his 1994 gazetteer Gatelodges of Ulster, “Circa 1700. Off the old county road, now absorbed into the enlarged Gosford Estate, lie two large ornamental ponds between which the avenue to the manor house led over a causeway. The access is below a semicircular headed carriage archway in a large wall of roughly carved rubble whinstone dressed in classically moulded carved limestone.” On either side of the archway are attached 15 square metre porters’ lodges. Each has a Dutch gable reminiscent of Richhill Castle, also in County Armagh, and Springhill County Londonderry. Perched on their roofs are Sir John Vanbrugh style arched chimneystacks mimicking miniature belfries.

A rerouting of the road to Tandragee means the former gamekeeper’s cottage dating from circa 1840 is now accessed off a cul-de-sac backing onto the Gosford Castle Estate. Probably by Thomas Hopper, it is as unique in its own way as the neo Norman castle: this rustic log cabin is a gingerbread house brought to life. Spindly metal columns prop up a steep hipped roof and frame a wraparound verandah. The walls are panelled with narrow strips of wood at various angles and the windows have triangular heads. A simple rendered contemporary extension doubles the ground floor accommodation of this diminutive dwelling. The cottage is now a two bedroom holiday let.

Gosford Castle is a marvel in so many ways. For starters, why did the 2nd Earl and Countess of Gosford select neo Norman instead of the more popular Gothic or Italianate styles? Perhaps it was in the spirit of choosing your ancestors wisely. In a country of castles to show off your ancestry the next best thing to living in a Norman castle would be erecting and living in a neo Norman castle. The turn of the 18th century entrance archway and lodges – Blenheim Palace on Keizersgracht – are very special. The lodges are windowless but roofed and vegetation has been removed. Most marvellous if not miraculous of all is the survival and reuse of the wooden former gamekeeper’s cottage.

Gosford Castle itself has never looked better. The huge revivification is finally nearing completion to house 23 new Lords and Ladies of the Manor. The white stone glistens in its dense forest surroundings like a fairytale scene. Surprisingly there was no enabling new development as part of the restoration and redevelopment. The Planning Appeals Commission has though in 2024 allowed on appeal a development of 11 one and a half storey contemporary cottages in the abandoned car park to the rear of the castle courtyard. The adjoining walled garden will be restored as part of this residential development.

Commissioner Laura Roddy reports, “The scale and massing proposed with the low elevation design would respect the Listed Building. Whilst the proposed dwellings would be of a more modern design than the castle, this, combined with the simplicity of the design would ensure that the proposed dwellings would be sympathetic to, and do not compete with or detract from, the castle.” She concludes, “Overall, I find the appeal proposal would be of a sympathetic scale of development and would respect the character of the setting of the Listed castle and walled garden. Further, it would restore the Listed walled garden, reinstate the historic pathway between the castle and walled garden and include a significant level of landscaping which would be sympathetic to its setting.” So in the end enabling development was allowed – just for the walled garden not the castle.

And that concludes the definitive tale of Gosford Castle, spanning two centuries and delivered in different voices over four decades, its origins best summarised by Nicholas Sheaff’s narrative of two distinct aesthetic currents.

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Architects Architecture Country Houses People Restaurants Town Houses

The Auld Bank Coffeeshop + Crossroads Gortin Tyrone

Steeped in Resonance and Nuance

It’s the most architecturally appealing aesthetically appetising crossroads in County Tyrone. To the northeast, a coffeeshop. To the southeast, a church. To the southwest, a school. To the northwest, a country house. All oozing rural charm. Welcome to Gortin. The ‘t’ is pronounced “ch”. The main approach to the crossroads could hardly be more dramatic. An inland corniche snakes through the purple heather topped Sperrin Mountains in a downward spiral (Gortin Lakes on one side, Gortin Forest on the other) before plummeting into the valley of the Owenkillew River to arrive at the crossroads. It’s time to go for a wee dander. If the crossroads is considered the western end and St Patrick’s Catholic Church accessed off Chapel Lane the eastern end, that means Gortin High Street is the princely length of 585 metres long.

There’s been a small drop in population (the 2011 Census states 412 inhabitants) and a forest planted since Samuel Lewis’s 1837 Topographical Dictionary of Ireland was published, “Gortin, a village in the Parish of Lower Badony, Barony of Strabane, County of Tyrone, and Province of Ulster, five miles east of Newtownstewart on the road to Cookstown; containing 441 inhabitants. This place is situated in a deep watered valley, and in the district of the Mounterloney Mountains, of which it may be considered the chief town. It consists of one irregular street containing 82 houses indifferently built; the surrounding scenery, though boldly picturesque, is destitute of embellishment from the want of wood, which is found only in the demesne of Beltrim, the handsome residence of Arthur Hamilton, which is surrounded by young and thriving plantations. The parish church, a neat small edifice, is situated here, also the parochial school and a dispensary.” Diarist John McEvoy went even further on highlighting its significance in 1802, “The village of Gortin may be considered the capital of this immense region.”

The Auld Bank Coffeeshop is a single storey dropping to two storeys to the rear three bay building facing the high street. “Auld” meaning “old” is pronounced “owl”. Its rough cut stone and brick quoined exterior is more associated with east of the River Bann villages such as Hillsborough and Moira. Ulster Bank closed its branch in 2015 and the building owner, Blakiston-Houston Estates Company, converted it into a coffeeshop. A very popular one at that, serving the best panini west of the Bann. The bank was built in 1845 with a gabled porch added in 1980. In true late 20th century style, the fanlight and sidelights surrounding the entrance door have a postmodern feel to them. The interior has been opened up; simple ceiling mouldings provide an unpretentious backdrop to the café.  On the other side of Main Street, The Auld Forge, a shop selling country clothing brands such as Hartwell, Laksen and Dubarry of Ireland, has opened in a former warehouse next to St Patrick’s Church of Ireland.

Alistair Rowan sums up St Patrick’s Church of Ireland in his 1979 Buildings of North West Ulster (sponsored by Lord Dunleath’s Charitable Trust), “1856 by Joseph Welland, replaced the first Lower Badoney church of 1730. A standard stone built hall with short sanctuary, end porch, and bellcote. Short paired lancets, seven down each side, with quarry glass, and a nice braced truss roof inside, high and a little richer than usual.” A sprawling underdeveloped graveyard drapes a green apron around the south front.

Professor Rowan goes on to explain the church architect’s credentials, “The Church of Ireland had from 1843 one architect, Joseph Welland, who catered for all its needs. His qualifications were impeccable. Welland, a relative of the Bishop of Down, had trained in Dublin in the office of John Bowden, through whom in 1826 he obtained the appointment of architect to the Board of First Fruits in the Tuam Division. In 1839, when the Irish Ecclesiastical Commission replaced the old Board of First Fruits, Welland was appointed one of its four architects (although the older William Farrell seems to have retained responsibility for the North), and in 1843 on the reorganisation of the Commission he became the sole architect.”

Beltrim National School is a long single storey white rendered with slate roof building looking over the road to the cemetery. A juxtaposed case of early life meets eternal life. To either extremity of the façade is an entrance (one for boys, one for girls) separated by six tall windows. Both entrance doors are painted farm shed red with a school name plus date plaque (1899). Completely symmetrical, the former school turned holiday let portrays provincial architectural perfection. So contained, so uncontrived. Higher up the brow of the hill – in fact the last and most southerly building on Glenpark Road, the serpentine leading out of Gortin towards the forest and lakes – is Lower Badoney Parochial Hall, another single storey modest building. Again a name and date plaque gives away its use and age (1884). A gleaming Victorian villa stands between the school and hall.

There’s nothing obviously castellated about Beltrim Castle. There are apparently remnants of the 1620s bawn completed by Sir William Hamilton hidden deep in the fabric of the building. Tyrone people call country houses “castles”. Locals refer to nearby Baronscourt (firmly in the country house category) as “the castle”. Alistair Rowan believes the current appearance of Beltrim Castle dates from the 1820s and notes its overhanging eaves. The low two storey house is incredibly attractive in an understated Ulster manner. The five bay entrance front has a fanlight over its entrance door as big and grand as one on any Dublin townhouse. A later boxy porch was removed last century to reveal the doorcase in all its spiky splendour. To the rear of the main block, Beltrim Castle’s return wing is nearly as long as Gortin High Street or at least a terrace lining it. A lean-to conservatory attached to the wing has long since disappeared. The estate is privately owned by the Blakiston-Houstons but its gardens are occasionally open to the public. In 2015, the now 35 year old Jack Blakiston-Houston married the actress Emma Hiddleston, sister of the actor Tom Hiddleston.

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Architects Architecture Art Design Developers Luxury People Restaurants Town Houses

Clayton’s Kitchen Restaurant + Georgian Bath Somerset

From The Circus to the Kitchen

There are few more glorious sights in southwest England that the approach by train to Bath. As the railway line gently curves round, the golden hue of Bath stone (incidentally Castle Ward in County Down is an example of the material being used in west Britain) against the sloping verdancy is breathtaking. On disembarked closer inspection, the city reveals itself through a gradual unpeeling of layers of beauty and intrigue. As Cyclops would say, there’s more to Bath than meets the eye.

Take the alleyway running off Terrace Walk between The Huntsman pub and Bridgwater House. It frames the three bay frontis of the 1720s home of quarry owner Radulphus Allen. Designed by another oligarch of Georgian Bath, John Wood the Elder, it’s a pristine example of the decorated Palladian style. Ralph Allen’s house is now occupied by the David Brain Partnership, aptly an architectural practice specialising in conservation. Another thrill of the alleyway is the rear elevation of Sally Lunn’s Eating House lit by early 18th century sash windows with heavy glazing bars.

John Wood the Elder’s own home on Queen Square is a showcase, especially the staircase hall with its peopled plasterwork. St Cecilia, Patron Saint of Music, silently serenades visitors on the ascent and descent. The secondary staircase is directly behind the main staircase hall. Newel posts dropping below the stair and three balusters per tread are typical of the era. Full entablature cornices finish off raised and fielded panelling in all the principal rooms. Despite dying aged 50, the architect has left an indelible mark on the cityscape.

The Palladian precision of the formal south elevation coupled with the boutique shop lined inner sanctum of Pulteney Bridge arching over the River Avon is a familiar tourist sight. Its north elevation has a charm derived from irregular jettied projections – a picturesque jumble that would tempt Canaletto to get out his paintbrushes. Pulteney Bridge was designed by Robert Adam and completed in 1774.

John Strachan is lesser known than the Woods or the Adams. His Beauford Square, erected in 1727 to 1736, is more baroque than Palladian. It was developed by John Hobbs, a Bristol sailmaker and timber merchant. Distinctive red pantile roofs contrast in colour and texture with the Bath stone walls. Several of the townhouses facing the central green were later enlarged from two and a half to three storeys.

Water is everywhere in Bath. The dual aspect late 18th century Pump Room designed by Thomas Baldwin and finished by John Palner is quite the spot for afternoon liquid refreshment. Its north facing windows look out towards the Perpendicular Gothic Bath Abbey; its south, down a storey to the Roman Baths. St Cecilia would approve: a pianist and two violinists play sonatas as guests in the Pump Room polish off sparkling water from the Mendip Hills.

Street names are always fascinating in historic cities. What are the origins of Gay Street, Gracious Court, Milk Street, Quiet Street, Saw Close, Swallow Street, Trim Street? There is no Queer Street in Bath: this place is affluent. The Circus is self explanatory: three identical curved segments of 11 terraced houses each built between 1754 and 1769 to the design of John Wood the Elder and completed by his son John Wood the Younger. Why use one order when you can employ three. The columnar front and side elevations are thrust skyward by lavish paired columns – Roman Doric (entrance floor); Ionic (drawing room floor); and Corinthian (nursery floor).

A frieze supporting the acorn dotted cornice features lyres and Irish harps. The influence of Inigo Jones’ Banqueting House of Whitehall Palace London dating from 1638 is apparent in the design. The Woods’ ability to synthesise precedent and recompose it elevated their work above all peers. Cills have been lifted back up to their original position: the Victorians liked to enlarge windows by lowering them by a row of panes. Originally the urban space enclosed by The Circus was paved with setts. A circular green filled with trees dates from the Picturesque period of the late 18th century.

Beau Nash is an antiques shop on Brock Street which links The Circus to The Royal Crescent. The houses on the opposite side of the street have porches designed to accommodate sedan chairs. Suitably for a shop named after a bon viveur, dealers Ronald Pringle and Cynthia Wihardja have compiled a restaurant guide to Bath. Their verdict on Clayton’s Kitchen is, “The best value for money in Bath. Rob is a Michelin star Chef who set up his own restaurant. Lovely presentation and generous portions. Superb service. We love this place.”

Ever since Chef Patron Robert Clayton opened his eponymous restaurant high above George Street in 2012, it has become a fixture of fine dining in Bath. The 54 year old lives in the city with his wife Sara, daughters Imogen and Liberty, and Weimaraner Myrtle. He was one of the youngest chefs ever to win a Michelin star while aged 25 he headed up the kitchen of Huntsrete House Hotel just outside Bath. There are two adjoining dining rooms, simply decorated with natural materials. Duck egg blue reigns supreme. Seating spills out to the side onto Miles’s Buildings, a laneway leading up to the rear of the southeast segment of The Circus. Dishes radiate uncomplicated perfection drawing on Mediterranean and current French cuisine for inspiration.

Julia Kent wrote in House and Garden magazine, “Having escaped the worst excesses of modern planners’ dreams for redevelopment, Bath remains largely and evocatively a Georgian city. True, some latter day horrors have been allowed to mar the once harmonious skyline but, even so, you can still wander round the city and absorb the spirit and architectural beauty of the 18th century. Perhaps because Bath has a comparatively large local population of discerning diners out, the city boasts numerous good restaurants, not geared solely to tourism, some of which are of very high standing indeed.” That was May 1987. Not much has changed in a good way.

Bath was built to be a resort of pleasure. The Romans got it. The Georgians got it. The Caroleans are getting it.

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Architecture Luxury Restaurants Town Houses

The Blue Pelican Restaurant + Bar Deal Kent

Beltane Braces

A fish and chip shop and an ice cream parlour are essentials for the esplanade of any seaside town. This being deliciously refined Deal on the east coast of Kent, a well defined Japanese restaurant in a Grade II Listed early Georgian townhouse is also required. The Blue Pelican has just opened on the aptly named Beach Street in what was formerly The Black Douglas, a restaurant run by Dalziel Douglas. Her sister Lizzie is the owner of The Black Pig, a butcher’s just behind the esplanade on St George’s Passage. They are the daughters of Lord Gawain Douglas who’s the son of the 11th Marquess of Queensberry. Oscar Wilde’s lover Bosie Douglas was a relative.

The red door and pale peach walls of the façade have been painted pale green and white respectively. A tripartite shopfront remains black. This façade reappears inside in a mural dominating a wall of the restaurant. Painted by Deal born Lisbon residing artist Tom Maryniak, his flatulent Victorians wallpaper caused merriment for customers visiting the basement loo in Dalziel’s restaurant. The owners Chris Hicks and his wife Alex Bagner, who own The Rose Hotel on High Street, wanted to pay respect to The Black Douglas. They’ve retained the same ground floor layout: the dining room occupies the sea facing front of the building with an open plan kitchen to the rear. A striking departure is the red neon sign “Fire it up” outside the cavernous now red painted loo. Alex was previously Design Editor at Wallpaper* magazine.

Chef Luke Green who formerly led the kitchen in The Rose looked to Tokyo’s culinary scene for inspiration, having worked in the city for five years. The informal offering of an izakaya – a Japanese bar that serves drinks and snacks (like soromame tofu, peas and wild garlic) – accompanies more substantial plates (such as halibut, white asparagus and dandelion) and puddings (think kumquat and kinako set custard). Tim Toovey of London company Uncharted Wines collated a drinks menus focusing on low intervention English and European vineyards alongside sake and Japanese whisky. Cocktails combine Japanese flavours and local herbs which sum up in glasses the ethos of The Blue Pelican according to Chris, “A restaurant and bar firmly rooted on the Kent coast but inspired by a passion for Japanese food and drink.” Upstairs, The Pelican Rooms offer more Deal necessities: a yoga studio and three private treatment rooms.

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Architects Architecture Art Design Luxury People Town Houses

Hôtel de la Marine + Place de la Concorde Paris

The Remix Has Arrived

It’s the first time since the Revolution that the building has been open to the bourgeoisie. Hôtel de la Marine is one of two matching blocks embracing immaculate symmetry like battalions on parade. These twin palaces form the northern side of the great set piece that is Place de la Concorde. Behind those golden walls, Première Dame d’Honneur Brigitte Macron would later admire the couture interior. There was plenty of raw material to choose from – this used to be the Garde-Meuble de la Couronne (Crown Furniture Storage). The building was designed by Louis XV’s architect Ange-Jacques Gabriel and completed by 1774. Its restoration and decoration has cost a cool €135 million – a collaboration of State and commerce. Jamaica born Architectural Association trained Paris based architect Hugh Dutton’s pyramidal glazed roof over the Cour de l’Intendant transforming that space from a courtyard to an atrium is the only significant contemporary intervention.

Visitors enter the first floor museum through an arch in the arcade lining Place de la Concorde into Cour d’Honneur and onwards through a vestibule into Cour de l’Intendant. The former courtyard is still open to the cottony clouded sky and all four storeys plus dormered attic are fully visible: the attic floor of the street fronts is concealed by tympani filled pediments flanking balustrades over a cornice. There are two distinct parts to this museum: the vast public rooms overlooking Place de a Concorde to the south and the private office and double apartment of the Intendant of the Garde-Meuble which occupy the righthand three bay pedimented projection of the south front and most of the east front overlooking Rue St Florentin.

The interior of the office and double apartment is a tale of two citizens. Chief Architect of Historic Monuments Christophe Bontineau led the restoration with an innovative approach of drawing on the differing tastes of the last two Intendants of the Garde-Meuble, the decadent Pierre-Élisabeth de Fontanieu and the religious Marc Antoine Thierry de Ville d’Avray. Decorators Joseph Achkar and Michel Charrière got to work under the discreet and watchful eyes of past residents. Restoration included peeling back up to 18 layers of paint to uncover original colourways. Jean-Henri Riesener masterpieces were returned from the Louvre and Versailles. Madame Thierry de Ville d’Avray’s Polonaise bed and matching dog bed were spruced up. Monsieur de Fontanieu’s bath with hot running water supplied by an overhead tank hidden above the ceiling was reinstated.

The Marine (Ministry for Naval Affairs) took over the building in 1789 and occupied it for the next 226 years. In 1798 the Garde-Meuble was abolished. The Salon d’Honneur and the Salon des Amiraux were carved – all that multicoloured marquetry – out of the Galerie des Meubles in the 1840s to the design of Naval architect Xavier Lefèvre. Thus the south front was reinvented as a suite of Versailles standard state rooms for naval occasions. Running parallel with this suite are the interconnecting Galeries des Ponts de Geurre and Doreé naturally lit by windows onto Cour d’Honneur.

After the golden extravagance of the state rooms, salons extraordinaire blurring into one magnificence, an enfilade of mirrored dreams, there’s a refreshingly plain anteroom off the Office of the Chief of Staff which leads onto the balcony overlooking Place de la Concorde. The reductivist simplicity of the anteroom’s chimneypiece is 19th century neoclassicism at its sleekest. Intersecting lines, receding and projecting, manipulating light and shadow. A clarion call of the beginning of modernism heralding a new era yet to come. The balcony – oh là là! All 11 bays of it between double height Corinthian columns framing views of the Obelisk of Luxor, the Eiffel Tower, Le Petit Palais and the Jardine des Tuileries. Hôtel de la Marine Paris and its balcony: the rich relative of Buckingham Palace London.

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Architecture Design Fashion Luxury People Town Houses

Rue St Honoré Paris +

A Street Named Desire

Material cravings (if Isabel Marant and Alexander McQueen are your bag) and spiritual needs (if Polish incense is your style) are catered for along this two kilometre stretch of glory through the 1st and 8th Arrondissements. Rue St Honoré even has its own Pantheon. The 1670s circular worship space set in a square block which forms Église Notre Dame de l’Assomption, better known as Paroisse Polonaise (the Polish Church), was inspired by the Ancient Rome masterpiece. Designed by Charles Errard, a six columned Corinthian portico leads into the 24 metre diameter rotunda. A fresco by Charles de la Fosse representing the Assumption of the Virgin fills a roundel in the centre of the 65 square metre coffered dome. The only source of natural light is from eight clerestory windows.

The allure of turning right off Rue St Honoré towards the Seine onto Rue du Rivoli eventually proves impossible to ignore. Destination Hôtel Le Meurice. Chablis Cru les Vaillons Albert Buchot 2021 on ice awaits. Musing on the material versus spiritual or perhaps material versus cultural, mid last century Debo Duchess of Devonshire took her daughter to Paris for “some improvement”. As recounted in a letter by Debo’s Paris residing sister, the novelist Nancy Mitford, the ladies got as far as Notre Dame when Her Grace announced, “Now darling, you’ve seen the outside so you can imagine the inside. Let’s go to Dior.”

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People Town Houses

Jardin des Ambassadeurs Paris + Josephine Baker + Simone Seguoin + Françoise de la Guerre

We Would Do it All Again

Embassy world Paris. Amidst these hallowed hectares is an exhibition to the female fighters of the Resistance. Josephine Baker defied definition. Actress, dancer, spy, war heroine, adoptive mother of orphans. Oh, did we mention beauty? And nobody has ever looked hotter with an MP40 machine gun than her compatriot Simone Segouin. Before Simone died in February 2023 she would say, “If I had to do it all again I would do it. I have no regrets.” Fellow freedom fighter Françoise Bigon looks on bemused: “You found the best place. I am France!”

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Art Design Hotels Luxury People Town Houses

Hôtel Le Temple de Jeanne Paris et Les Mecs

Et Puis le Printemps Est Arrivé

Paris is the friendliest city ever. It does help if you’re beautiful photographing well from every angle and speak a little French.  Who said the medieval era was all about torture? Named after Queen Jeanne de Bourbon wife of Charles V, Hôtel Le Temple de Jeanne proves it wasn’t all bad. We’re doing Paris! But first there’s a quadruple upgrade to the quarter hectare bedroom (in relative Parisian terms) to be had.