Lavender's Blue: Wherever there's design there's Lavender's Blue

No Inelegance

A Waitrose opening used to be the sign a place is going places. Now it’s The Ivy. Chains like The Ivy (Grade II Listed Building) are architecturally elevated in Chichester: the building housing Pizza Express has two Palladian windows and four blind parapet windows. Zizzi has three blind windows under a pediment dated 1791. New Look is in old architecture – a neo Grecian temple. The city has plenty of independent restaurants as well. Jorge Kloppenburg recommends fine dining at Purchases on North Street or Piccolino on South Street.

The Barn restaurant on the corner of East Street and Little London has a notice on its flank wall: “All Goodwood produce can be traced every step of the way from field to fork. They are totally committed to the care of their livestock and to the preservation of the countryside. They use no pesticides of fertilisers at Goodwood Home Farm, ensuring that the wildlife, hedgerows and centuries old natural ecosystem is protected. Goodwood Home Farm is four miles from here and therefore as local as you can get. The farm is set at the heart of the 12,000 acres Sussex estate.” You guessed it: Goodwood Farm Shop is its number one supplier. A plaque on the façade of The Barn is dedicated to fabulous clientele including Lawrence Olivier and Elizabeth Taylor. There’s still plenty of fabulosity in Chichester.

Jorge should know about good food: he’s been cooking since age 12. After a successful international sustainable business career, three years ago he bought East Walls Hotel which he runs with his wife Anywhere Thompson. “We don’t call it a hotel it’s a home from home,” Jorge relates. “In Germany I trained in Chinese, Indian and Thai cooking at night classes. We personalise breakfast here. One New Yorker guest likes her scrambled egg made with cheese. After spending 2,000 nights in 30 years staying in hotels across Europe I recognise what I like and dislike.”

He reckons, “A nice bathroom and excellent breakfast are crucial – that’s what you need to start the day.” The bathroom products are Elysl. Bedding of course is also important. All the beds are fitted with Mitre Linen’s Savoy Collection. “Fresh flowers on the dining tables are a must. I would describe our cooking as bespoke international food.” On cue, delicious halibut and salmon (with the subtlest hint of spice) is served alongside fresh greens and Finger Post wine. “Everything is freshly made. You need 35 minutes for potato dauphinoise. Air frying not deep frying is much heathier. Our breakfast homemade bread is 50 percent brown 50 percent white – fluffy, not too heavy. We buy food at the market two to three times a week.” The tomatoes and herbs were picked two metres away two minutes ago. Forget farm to fork. This is patio to plate.

There are chillis in the garden. “We have a 37 acre chilli farm in Zimbabwe near where I was brought up,” shares Anywhere. “It provides employment for locals and supports 50 children in education. We are in the process of buying another 37 acres. We are both very committed to our philanthropic endeavours. Education is so important whether you end up as a doctor or truck driver. We want to give others a chance in life to do well.”

East Walls Hotel gets its name from the turn of last millennium Roman city walls. Its Grade II Listing dating from 1950 states, “Suffolk House, 3 East Row. 18th century. Three storeys. Four windows wide. Red brick. Eaves bracket cornice. Sash windows in reveals in flat arches; glazing bars intact on ground and first floors; rubbed brick voussoirs. Doorway with Doric columns, pediment and semicircular fanlight. Six panel moulded door with four panels cut away and glazed; door in panelled reveals. Stone coat of arms over the doorway.” A blocked Gothick arch on the first landing and a blind rounded arch on the landing above hint at structural alterations down the centuries.

Anywhere explains, “We can’t keep up with demand! So we’ve bought 1 East Row, the house next door, to expand our guest accommodation.” Its Grade II Listing, also dating from 1950, states, “18th century. Two storeys and attic. Three windows and extension of one window on ground floor. Red brick. Brick stringcourse. Wooden cornice. One dormer. Sash windows in frames, those on ground floor with slightly curved headings; glazing bars intact. Doorway with Doric pilasters, pediment and semicircular fanlight. Six panel moulded door set in panelled reveals.”

There’s no escaping the influence of Goodwood. The hotel was once the townhouse of the country house estate owners the Dukes of Richmond. A chubby Duke’s face cast in plaster protrudes over a French door on the rear elevation. “We always have guests staying for Goodwood Festival of Speed,” says Anywhere. “And businesspeople from Rolls Royce – their plant is only two miles away and employs 1,700 people. Our repeat guests book now for next year.”

A black and white photograph of Goodwood Tourist Trophy 1959 hangs in the bar next to pictures of Aston Martins and prints of Sophia Loren and Elizabeth Taylor. “This is a men’s space,” Jorge suggests. “We’ve 75 whiskeys and 15 gins to choose from.” Burgundy chesterfield armchairs bolster the masculine ambience. The adjoining Art Deco style restaurant is more feminine. “The collection of teapots on display – Twenties, Thirties, Seventies, Nineties and 2000s – shows how time goes on.” This year is the centenary of Art Deco: the Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes was held in Paris in 1925.

One of the many cultural highlights of Chichester is Pallant House Gallery, a Grade I Listed early Georgian house famous for its modern art collection. Here’s a random sample of delights. Frank Auerbach’s Reclining Head of Gerda Boehm (1982), a lesson in portraiture. Jean Metzinger’s L’Echaffaudage (1915), a diagonally determined dynamic scaffolding. Tracey Emin’s Roman Standard (1949), her first public art project. Standing tall in the courtyard, this cast iron variation of a Roman standard is topped by a small songbird rather than a triumphant eagle. Lucien Freud’s Portrait of a Girl (1949), a study of skin surface. John Piper’s Redland Park Congregational Church (1940), a rich hued and black lined depiction of the collision of the pastoral past with the brutal bomb wrecked present.

Five minutes away from East Walls Hotel – everything is five minutes away actually – lies Priory Park. This open space is a layering of history from medieval walls on Roman foundations to a Norman mote to the 13th century Guildhall, formerly the Chapel of the Franciscan Friary. The spire of the 11th century Chichester Cathedral can be seen from the second floor bedrooms and garden cottage suite. The cathedral and its precincts are a beautiful pocket of civilisation.

“We really believe in living in the hotel and doing the cooking ourselves,” confirms Anywhere. “That way the quality becomes how it should be.” She has a Bachelor of Science in Biomedical Science and a Master’s in Medical Biotechnology both from the University of Portsmouth, now balancing a career as a clinical pathologist with co running a hotel. “All 12 of our rooms are different but they all have antique pieces and beautiful bathrooms. Work hard – it pays off.”

Chichester: England’s finest small city. East Walls Hotel: England’s finest small hotel.

The 8th Marquess of Waterford + Curraghmore Portlaw Waterford

Heirs and Graces

Of course we had no idea at the time it would be the last interview to be given by the 8th Marquess of Waterford. We did know it was a rare opportunity though: he rarely spoke to the media. So on a drizzly day in May 2014, with a great tingle of anticipation we watched the gates electronic gates slide open before racing down that eternal avenue. The Marquess, in a wheelchair and sporting trendy trainers, cheerfully greeted us at the top of the steps of the voluminous entrance hall. And so began our glimpse into the magical world of Curraghmore.

In principio erat domus.

The shadows were closing in. On a dark night in 1922, while heavy clouds curled and unfurled over the Comeragh Mountains, four IRA men crawled up the 6.5 kilometre driveway of Curraghmore. The fourth of four castles owned by the de la Poer family, who’d come to these islands during the French Catholic Norman Invasion, was about to become a ruin. But St Hubert would save the night. As the terrorists approached, a flicker of moonlight silhouetted the crucifix atop the stag of St Hubert on the balustrade of the entrance tower. Illiterately, the terrorists assumed the family inside must still be Catholic. They fled and burned down the crucifix-free Woodstown House nearby. The de la Poer motto is Nil Nisi Cruce: “Nothing without the cross.”

We’re in the James Wyatt designed staircase hall of Curraghmore. It’s a Sunday morning and John Hubert de la Poer Beresford, 8th Marquess of Waterford, has graced us with his presence. Inspecting our vintage postcard of Curraghmore, he remarks, “Look, the fountain in the lake is clearly visible. It was the tallest fountain in Europe before my grandfather took it down.” The estate boasts the tallest tree in Ireland, a Sitka spruce. At 47.5 metres tall, its full height is not immediately apparent as it grows out of a dell. The Marquess is less than impressed by wind turbines visible from the neighbouring farm which mar the otherwise Arcadian setting.

“That dashing red haired gentleman,” says the Marquess pointing to a portrait on the landing, “is Henry the 3rd Marquess. He was hot tempered and one day got into such a fierce argument with his father he charged up the staircase on his black stallion. That’s how the middle step got cracked. The portrait of his wife Louisa the 3rd Marchioness, herself an artist, is rather lovely. The 3rd Marquess was killed while fox hunting. My brother Patrick is a great soldier. He was awarded the Sword of Honour at Sandhurst.” The current Marquess was a talented polo player and is a friend of the Duke of Edinburgh. “I’m lucky to have three sons and five grandsons. Richard, my eldest grandson, is 6’8” and a professional polo player.” Sport’s in their (blue) blood. The 3rd Marquess enjoyed partying as much as sport. He was one of several wild sportsmen who sprayed the tollgate and houses of Melton Mowbray in Leicestershire with red paint. The phrase “painting the town red” was born.

“That’s Aunt Clodagh,” the Marquess grins gesturing to another portrait. “Do you know what the Irish name Clodagh means? Muddy water. Lady Muddy Water Beresford.” Over six kilometres of the Clodagh River run through the estate. “Curraghmore has always been a working farm.” Even more than that, it was once a self contained community. In contrast to the format of wings elongating the façade, at Curraghmore the ancillary quarters stretch forward from the entrance doors to form the mother-of-all-forecourts. More Seaton Delaval than Russborough. As well as the stables for 60 horses, this parallel pair of wings at one time housed the accountant, bookkeeper, butler, doctor, estate manager, gamekeeper, headmaster and woodcutter. An estate school lay behind the gatelodge. Basil Croeser, the retired butler, still lives in one of the Gibbsian detailed houses lining the forecourt. A new butler, aged 23, has just started. He’s yet to be fitted for his uniform. Later, he will serve the Marquess lunch, a silver tureen on a silver tray concealing fresh produce from the estate. Game soup’s a favourite. There are 25 estate staff, including a cleaning lady for every floor. There may be fourposter beds but bathrooms are on the corridor. No en suites. This is an Irish country house, not a hotel. Chamber pots at the ready.

“That painting’s by Gilbert Stuart who famously was George Washington’s portraitist. Those are of my parents and grandparents. Do sign the visitors’ book.” Lavender’s Blue is added to Prince Albert of Greece, Grace Kelly, Elizabeth Taylor and, eh, Iain Duncan-Smith. “The house is surprisingly warm, even in winter,” comments the Marquess, “thanks to roaring fires in the main rooms and the thickness of the walls.” We move into the Blue Drawing Room, walking across a 1770 Axminster. The wealth of art between these thick walls becomes even more apparent. One, two, three Joshua Reynolds. Same again for Rubens. A portrait of Catherine the Great by Giovanni Battista Lampi hangs over the doorcase. A Gerrit van Honthorst here; a Thomas Lawrence there. In the adjoining Yellow Drawing Room, filled with morning light from two windows on two sides (blind windows were unblocked in a major restoration 25 years ago), is a painting of another family aunt, Lady Wyndham. She’s wearing the pearl necklace Mary Queen of Scots handed to her lady-in-waiting before she lost her head. The pearls are upstairs, in the Marchioness’s dressing room.

The dining room retains its original skin tone coloured walls and the nine metre long linen tablecloth dating from 1876 is still in use. Standards are high at dinner parties. The Marquess and Marchioness sit at opposite ends of the table, 17 privileged guests on either side. Men wear bow ties; ladies, long dresses and jewellery. Candles perched in three silver candelabra provide the only lighting. Dinner is served on 10 dozen floral Feuillet plates. Upstairs, far flung corners of the house are piled high with boxes of English, French and Chinese china. After dinner, at a nod from the Marquess, the ladies withdraw to another room. A larger than usual party was recently held when the Marquess celebrated his 80th birthday with 80 guests.

There’s so much else to write about Curraghmore. The stuffed lioness and her cubs lurking in a glass box. Elephant trunk and feet umbrella stands. The quatrefoil shaped shell grotto. The grass avenue which stops abruptly, unfinished since the 3rd Marquess’s untimely demise. The Curraghmore Hunt painting by William Osborne with nameplates for everyone including the hounds Jason and Good Boy. Grisaille panels by Peter de Gree. Roundels by Antonio Zucchi. Francini brothers plasterwork. Most of all, the great sense of peace that presides throughout the 1,620 hectares of Ireland’s last wilderness.

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