Big Boots To Fill
You know you’ve landed on your (gentrified) feet when you measure your parkland in square kilometres not old fashioned hectares. Better still when your toffish turnip patch is in Norfolk, with postcodes so posh there’s currently a chronic shortage of cleaning ladies (or gentlemen). Listing is like degrees: it’s best having a Grade I and getting a 1st or being unlisted and getting a 3rd. Throw in a (mostly) James Gibbs exterior and (mainly) William Kent interior and – bravo! – you’ve arrived at Houghton Hall. But first the yellow Snatterscham stone Kentish stables. For non Cholmondeley family members and guests, lunch served on monogrammed china in the courtyard is still pretty swanky. Venturing up to the silvery Aislaby sandstone house, much of the piano nobile is open to the public. Upper floors and wings attached to the main block (with its domed square corner towers) by colonnades in true Palladian fashion are not. Who’s the family? Who are the guests? Who’s Who?
Lady Rose Hanbury and David Cholmondeley (the 7th Marquess and Marchioness of Cholmondeley to you) are famously great chums with Wills and Catherine (the Prince and Princess of Wales, again to you). And neighbours: Sandringham is so close there’s simply nobody else in between who matters. Built for de facto first British Prime Minister Sir Robert Walpole, his collection of 400 Old Masters may have dwindled when his grandson flogged most of them to Catherine the Great of Russia, but David Cholmondeley is forever hosting exhibitions of contemporary artists. That’s when he’s not acting as Lord-in-Waiting for King Charles. Back when he was David Rocksavage (so many surnames) he directed a film version of Truman Capote’s semiautobiographical first novel Other Voices, Other Rooms. David has revived the Walled Garden in honour of his grandmother Sybil Sassoon. Six full time, two part time and 12 volunteer gardeners look after these heavenly two hectares.
A rustic floor (fully exposed basement) handily elevates the piano nobile to max out views of the 18th century rolling (thanks to a haha) parkland by Charles Bridgeman. Pride of place in the centre of the garden elevation is the double height Stone Hall, a 12 metre cube. The State Bedchambers are especially sumptuous. Most atmospheric of all is the top lit Great Staircase, a tower of ghostly shadows. On the dining table in the Marble Parlour is a contemporary Jasperware piece by Magdalene Odundo inspired by Josiah Wedgwood’s correspondence with a slave turned abolitionist Olaudah Equiano discovered in Houghton’s archives. Just one of Antony Gormley’s 100 sculptures (positioned at the same height to create a single horizontal plane) makes it into the interior: the body is half submerged in the rustic floor Arcade.
Lady Rocksavage’s polished boots are set out. Anyone for riding?
