Category: Hotels

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Hôtel Le Bristol Paris + Café Antonia

La Façon Dont Nous Vivons Maintenant

There aren’t very many good architecture critics and there aren’t very many good restaurant critics and there certainly aren’t very many critics who know their onion domes as well as their onions. Jonathan Meades is one. Café Antonia in Hôtel Le Bristol is too new to have been included in his lively 2002 Restaurant Guide but, to give you a flavour, he critiques three of our all time Parisian favourites. Way back in 2008 we hit one of the French Capital’s most vertigo inducing restaurants: Le Jules Verne, Eiffel Tower, which he awarded 7 sur 10. “The immediate views of this vertical Forth Bridge are captivating. And even were the restaurant situated at street level, it would still be worth patronising. The cooking is precise, considered, mostly balanced. Haughtily offhand service.” Le Jules Verne was where we first tasted the delights of the vineyard of St Véran which would become our tipple of choice at the Oxford and Cambridge Club London.

A few years later, Parisienne socialite Maud Rabanne introduced us to her regular and we haven’t stopped revisiting it since: Le Meurice, Rue de Rivoli, 8 sur 10. “The hotel is a Versailles for the bourgeoise. The building is so large, so labyrinthine, and there is just so much of everything – marble, glass, mirror, gold – that cornucopia soon becomes the norm. The dining room is staffed by several armies of tailed waiters and equipped with no end of trolleys and incendiary devices. The cooking excels when it tends toward the down-home – rather incongruous in such a setting – but disappoints when going in for conventional grand hotel stuff. There’s one problem: the pianist. Shoot?”

Memorably, the day after Notre Dame went up in smoke, we lunched in L’Orangerie, one of three restaurants in the Four Seasons George V, Avenue George V, 10 sur 10. “The George V should really be called the Louis after Louis the decorator. Containerloads of tapestries, gilded console tables, marble busts, rococo mirrors and so on have been brought from Rue St Honoré. The place is bursting with everything save self restraint. It does without saying that the restaurant does swell lines in pomp and neo directoire pediments. Two sorts of salt, two sorts of butter, absolutely no chance of pouring your own wine. The cooking is sumptuous, magnificent, not least because it quite lacks the chichi that mars much hotel cooking. Wines: predictably big names at predictably big prices.”

And that brings us on rather nicely to a big name of the landscaping world. They don’t come much bigger than the Italian born Pimlico office based Lady Arabella Lennox-Boyd. She hasn’t looked back since studying landscape architecture at Thames Polytechnic. In 2018, the then 82 year old was commissioned to redesign Le Bristol’s courtyard garden. “I wanted to get away from the usual hotel good taste with the ubiquitous formal white and green theme.” Instead, she introduced a pastoral idea combining topiary with loose plantings and flowing grasses. “A countryside feeling in the city.” She also wanted “a sense of mystery so that the garden cannot be seen in its entirety from any one point”.

While the façade of Le Bristol is a serious urban presence in stone, the inner facing elevations are light creamy stucco. What would have been a blank party wall in the courtyard garden has been given the green treatment. Forget a mere green wall. This is more like a two storey green mountain of layered planting towering behind first floor level pyramidal topiary set perpendicular to the courtyard garden.

“It was quite unconventional for a Roman girl whose role it was to get married and produce children and maybe have a job as a lawyer. Instead of which I’m in gardens doing manual work and dealing with soil. I have a feel for plants; I have a connection. I sometimes put myself in their shoes: if I was them what would I want?” She smiles, “You’re never too old!”

The landscape designer selected flora native to the greater Paris region or France more broadly, including European beech and hornbeam, Gladwin iris and hart’s tongue fern. “I included plants that provide shelter and nectar in all seasons. This garden is colonised by nature.” Rectangular black slate fountains add to this sensory driven garden. “Designing a garden is like painting with plants but there is so much more to consider. I am proud to have created a space where things are planted according to their natural habitat.” Her little black book includes King Philippe and Queen Mathilde of Belgium, the Duke and Duchess of Westminster, and of course the Oetker family who own Le Bristol.

Lady Arabella’s great chum Countess Bergit Douglas, a relative of the Oetkers, masterminded the Louis XVI interior design of the three Haussmannesque buildings that make up Le Bristol. The hotel has never looked better since Hippolyte Jammet (great name!) opened it in 1923. He must have been something of an Anglophile, naming his hotel after Frederick Hervey, 4th Earl of Bristol, an 18th century connoisseur of luxury travel. The socialite Lady Victoria Hervey is a descendant although the family have long since lost their seat of Ickworth in Suffolk. The dazzling and dazzlingly talented Josephine Baker and her pet cheetah frequented Le Bristol throughout the Roaring Twenties. After a postwar spell as the American Embassy, the hotel was bought by German businessman Rudolf Oetker in 1978. Then in 2014, our Knightsbridge London hangout The Lanesborough became part of The Oetker Collection. Little wonder Le Bristol feels like a home from home.

C’est le déjeuner sur l’herbe encore une fois. That ultimate Parisienne (if not born one soon became one) is the muse of Café Antonia in Le Bristol. Yes, Marie Antoinette. Her mother’s pet name for her was Antonia. Françoise Ravelle revels in Marie Antoinette Queen of Style and Taste (2017), “She singled out creators who had the knack of lifting their art to the height of perfection, and she became closely involved in the design of her dresses, her furniture and her gardens. In the small kingdom of Marie Antoinette her ministers were her couturiers, cabinetmakers, bronze works and painters.” The 18th century Royals’ painter François-Hubert Drouais’ portrait of Marie Antoinette, part of the private collection of Le Bristol, presides over Café Antonia. Her Majesty was passionate about the arts and loved attending the Opéra de Paris where she could escape the Court’s strict etiquette. Café Antonia reflects this sophisticated yet informal outlook, flowing from an expansive drawing room through French doors into the courtyard garden.

Françoise Ravelle reveals, “Perhaps Marie Antoinette’s personal touch is her association with a forever bygone epoch, described by her artist friend Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, ‘Women reigned at the time – the Revolution dethroned them.’” Females are taking central roles at Le Bristol, from the garden creator to the garniture stylist to the beau monde guests. True to form, there are plenty of Catherine Deneuve and Kristin Scott Thomas doppelgangers holding court in Café Antonia making elegance an art form. And some gentlemen of class as well. “De riens, messieurs,” waves our waiter. Lunch is all about crème d’asperges vertes, avocat; oeuf poché sur toast et saumon fumé; and patisserie du jour (chocolat, beaucoup de chocolat!).

Bob Middleton arrives and whisks us off on a whistlestop tour of the hotel. “I am the Manager of 114 which is one of three food offers in Hôtel Le Bristol excluding the banqueting and the room service. The name comes from its address: 114 Rue du Faubourg St-Honoré. We opened in 2009 and the restaurant has one Michelin star since 2013. There is also the three Michelin star restaurant Epicure overlooking the courtyard garden. Vincent Schmit is our Head Chef in 114 and he is assisted by 25 people who work in the kitchen. Then we have 30 people who work in the restaurant itself. We have a great place, we have a great team, we have great customers, what more can I say?” Vincent Schmit waves up from the lower level kitchen. “Bonne journée!”

And how would Jonathan Meades mark Café Antonia? Bien sûr 10 sur 10.

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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.

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The Standard Hotel King’s Cross London + Decimo Restaurant

Post Vernal Equinox

After the elevating experience of Messiah in the Royal Albert Hall we’re off again to The Standard, a short cab ride away in King’s Cross. Fusion food or at least that of twinned origin is the whole rage right now. Japanese Peruvian is still going strong at Nobu Park Lane. Mexican Japanese at Azteca Öme has just opened on Battersea Rise. And then there’s Spanish Mexican at Decimo reflecting the Michelin starred Bristolian Chef Peter Sanchez-Iglesias’s family heritage. “Decimo” is Spanish for 10th. We’re back in the red bubble lift to the 10th (of course) floor.

We have friends in high places: all the staff greet us like long lost relatives thanks to a rather lively party in the hotel on the Monday of the same week. “More Veuve Cliquot?” You mightn’t have to be a model to work here but it certainly helps. The best table in the house, the southwest windowed corner, is even better this evening thanks to a golden sun setting over the rooftops below. The cacti and beading of the Andalusian meets Pacific Coastal interior is all aglow.

How can such simple ingredients taste so good? The clarity of the evolving tablescape just emphasises the perfection of the food: smoky marinated red peppers on a marble block; spicy monkfish and pimentón on a wooden board covered with parchment paper. There is bread and oil and there is Decimo bread and oil. Same goes for the fried potations and alioli. Pear with Foursquare spiced rum (Trés Leché) deserves a Michelin star in its own right. This restaurant is next level.

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Four Seasons Hotel Park Lane London + Pavyllon Restaurant Afternoon Tea

A Why for an Eye

“Time, the great surprise. The tribulations of disguise,” cries musician, fashionista and philanthropist Daphne Guinness. In contrast to the Japanese Peruvian fusion of its neighbour Nobu, Pavyllon restaurant in the Four Seasons is all about Anglo French old school glamour. Park Lane is the second most valuable address in the London edition of the board game Monopoly, only beaten by the adjacent Mayfair. Inn on the Park London which would later be renamed Four Seasons opened in 1970. It was the group’s first European hotel, having started in Toronto nine years earlier. The architect was the Austrian born American Michael Rosenauer who had offices in London and New York.

The 11 storey 193 bedroom hotel has been materially and metaphorically elevated into the 21st century by the crack team of Reardon Smith (structural rebuild), Eric Parry (rooftop spa and Presidential Suite extension), Pierre-Yves Rochon (public areas interiors), Tara Bernerd (guest rooms and suites interiors) and Chahan Minassian (Pavyllon restaurant and Bar Antoine interiors). The first stuffed morels with duxelles sweetbread were still warm when Chef Yannick Alléno scooped up a Michelin star for Pavyllon (and his own 17th), the launch of the British expression of his trademark French cooking. Daphne Guinness: “You can blow out the candle in this chimera of time to end the beginning transcending a new paradigm.”

The design of Pavyllon and the adjoining Bar Antoine are all about blocks and stripes of calming colours to generate a Parisian apartment meets London club ambience. And a touch of Manhattan sophistication: Park Avenue reborn as Park Lane. Murano chandeliers comprising interlocking Cs designed by Chahan illuminate marble and lacquered panelling to establish a sense of understated luxury. New York artist Peter Lane’s pair of ceramic stoneware sculptures in a verdigris glaze pay homage to Michael Rosenauer’s penchant for incorporating artworks into his designs. At his Grade II* Listed Time and Life Building on Bruton Street, Mayfair, completed in 1954, the architect inserted an open base relief by Henry Moore on the second floor elevation.

Born in 1961 in Lebanon, Chahan’s family moved to France when he was 15. After a stint as European Creative Director for Ralph Lauren, he launched Chahan Interior Design in 1993. “Monochromes and textures mark a lot of my interiors,” he discloses. He always has more than 20 projects on the go, involving four to eight international flights a week. “Those days get intense between site visits, overlooking floorplans and designs, planning schedules and designing along the way. No lunch breaks. I read my 350 to 450 emails on my phone and manage to coordinate answers between my team and suppliers. I dine around 10am and sleep at 2am after catching up on work reports.”

Afternoon tea in Chanan’s relaxation inducing environment might cost an arm and a leg but life is for living. A breeze of staff in sandstone hued uniforms serve pistachio then sunflower seed nibbles. The well trodden afternoon tea sequence has variations on the theme. It’s all about differentiation in London five stars, whether The Goring’s Pink Panther with its bottomless curried cauliflower sandwiches or Sanderson’s Mad Hatter’s and its cuckoo cakes. Three finger sandwiches are oak smoked salmon sandwich with shiso butter and teriyaki sauce; Hafod cheddar sandwich with tomato condiment and spring onion; and devilled egg with watercress and mayo. Petite cubic scones come with raspberry compote, orange marmalade and vanilla cream.

Pastries are apple coriander tartlet (green apple ganache, pickles, black lemon); Jaffa cake (orange, caramel); marble cake (vanilla, chocolate, gianduja); mini baba (cachaça, mint, lemon); pavlova (sugar free meringue, fruit); and vanilla caramel cookie (almond praline, hazelnut). Moonlight Yunnan white tea proves to be the perfect accompaniment to the savouries and sweets. What better way to spend a Saturday afternoon in early spring? Daphne Guinness would approve: “Life is a dance and time is the key from the dawn of creation to the twilight of humanity.”

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The Lanesborough Hotel Knightsbridge London + The Garden Room

This Room’s On Fire

We’re back in town and we mean business. Straight off the hot mess express. Owning it. Cutting deals. Not just gadding about. Chop chop. We’re pumped up and pimped up between the plumped up poshness. In a basement next to the bright lights’ busiest roundabout. Sounds glam? It’s The Lanesborough’s Garden Room, darlings. Antiques and antics, busts and bust ups, teas and tiaras.

“A sky full of stars a room full of cigars,” postdebutante Annabel P wistfully murmurs before sinking behind the smoky haze into a Napoléon II club chair. The Garden Room’s impeccable Manager Neil Millington and his team are on it like a Selina Blow bonnet in this exclusive Cuba-on-Thames. “I’m going to keep the table as authentic as possible.” Bolney Estate Bacchus magically appears and reappears. Bad Pollyanna. Bad. And a legacy’s worth of Hoyo de Monterreys. “There are three cuts: punch, straight and V.”

Fresh from VIP seats applauding the thrillingly talented singer Noah Francis Johnson (the late Dodi Fayed’s brother-in-law) bring the (Soho) house down in White City (London not Tel Aviv), we’d glided past a portrait of Queen Elizabeth II en route to The Garden Room. Her painted lips parted: “We are so bemused.” An image of Salisbury’s Wilton House carried our reflection. People do say we’re a pair of oil paintings. “Welcome back!” chime Neil and his cohort each time we re-enter The Garden Room. Standing to attention of course. You can get the staff these days.

“When the party’s over and the lights go on …” sang Noah. This party’s only getting started so keep those lights dim!

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The Wilder Townhouse Hotel Dublin + Gráinne Weber

Incomplete Madness

Arriving at the west facing hotel on a sunny March evening is simply glorious. Doughnuts on demand in the new light filled conservatory and adjoining terrace. In contrast to the stuccoed pairs of Regency villas on the other side of Harcourt Terrace, The Wilder Townhouse is red brick Victorian. It’s a slightly wonky L shape in plan. Designed by architect James Hargrave Bridgford, the building has a long and complicated history. A Church of Ireland notice summarises its unusual genesis:

“The Asylum for Aged Governesses and Other Unmarried Ladies, first opened AD 1838. The only one in Ireland. Proposed new house, Harcourt Terrace, Dublin. In a former circular we gave an elevation of the proposed house, having four storeys, which was objected to as having rooms at such a distance from the entrance hall, that the ascent of the staircase to the upper rooms would be very trying for old and infirm people. We have, accordingly, modified our plan, which will be much more convenient in every way, and we have secured a plot of ground which gives us ample space for all sanitary and commodious arrangements, but the cost will be considerably more than for the original plan. We obtained four estimates from competent builders, and the lowest was £2,800 for the whole building; having, however only £1,600 in hand, and being determined to avoid debt, we have decided to build only the first block shown in the above drawing, with the portion of the wing included within the lines AB and CD. After this is done, we shall wait on the Lord for the means of completing the structure, which, when finished, will be all that can be desired. Subscriptions are earnestly solicited and will be thankfully received by the Trustees, or any Member of the Committee, whose names and addresses are given. Cheques and post office money orders to be made payable to Miss Eliza Meredyth.”

And a quote from Blackrock, County Dublin, based architect Gráinne Weber explaining its latest reincarnation: “Following on from work on Frankie Whelehan’s sister property, the Montenotte Hotel in Cork City, we were asked to take a look at a former residential institutional building on Harcourt Terrace and Adelaide Road in Dublin. A Victorian Protected Structure, it had planning permission for apartments but our client wished to develop it as a hotel. We achieved planning permission for a 42 bedroom guesthouse from An Bord Pleanála as architects for the project and proceeded to substantially upgrade the building’s shell and core: from there went on to create an interior which was modern yet sensitive to the building’s heritage.”

Hôtel Les Bains in Paris and Ham Yard Hotel in London provided two sources of inspiration for the interior design. House of Hackney wallpapers, Matthew Williamson fabrics and contemporary paintings reinvigorate the period interiors. The original inhabitants could only dream of today’s rainforest showers in marble bathrooms and Maison Margiela toiletries. Rooms are of course named after governesses who resided here: for example, the Miss Wade Suite was named after Charlotte Wade whose name appears in the 1911 Census. The Lady Jane Room is named in honour of Jane Harrison, Jane Jeffers and Jane Mercer who also all appeared in the 1911 Census. It’s also an acronym of the owner’s wife and daughters’ names: Josephine, Aoife, Niamh and Eimear. Records reveal 19 governesses were evicted down the years for being quarrelsome.

Gráinne’s client Frankie Whelehan expands the story, “What I was trying to achieve was something a bit different: a bespoke guesthouse with limited food and beverage, catering for a niche market that is under represented in Dublin. The name Wilder is a little bit of playacting because we are focusing on the international market coming to Dublin and Oscar Wilde is synonymous with the city. It’s all about experience. A notice in the deeds calls it ‘a home for bewildered women’ so we had that it mind too when naming the hotel.” The reception helpfully supplies a factsheet on governesses:

· They were employed to teach and train children in private middle and upper class households. The majority were Protestant; in the 1861 Census, 74 percent of Irish governesses were Protestant.

· In contrast to nannies, governesses concentrated on teaching children rather than catering for their physical needs.

· From the 1840s to 1860s, governesses accounted for 10 percent of the total teaching force.

· The profession began to decline at the end of the 19th century when schools became more common.

· The Governess Association of Ireland was established in 1869 on 3 Lower Leeson Street. It provided a two year course and an examination in Trinity College. Once completed, a certificate of proficiency helped to push for better wages.

· The average salary was £40 to £60 per annum but certified governesses could earn up to £80 a year.

· Governesses often didn’t have pensions and could end up homeless or in workhouses.

· The Asylum for Aged Governesses and Other Unmarried Ladies served a great need.

Last used as artists’ studios, the planning permission for hotel use granted by Dublin City Council was subject to a third party appeal in 2017 by neighbours on Harcourt Terrace. Inspector Jane Dennehy found in favour of the applicant: “The proposed development would not be seriously injurious to the integrity, character and visual amenities and setting the existing building, a Protected Structure, would not be seriously injurious to the architectural character, visual amenities and residential amenities of the residential Conservation Area and would be acceptable in terms of traffic and public safety and convenience, and would be in accordance with the proper planning and sustainable development of the area.” The Wilder Townhouse finally opened in 2018.

The February 2024 edition of Business Plus magazine reports: “In the 11 month period to November 2023, Dublin achieved the highest hotel occupancy rate, 83 percent, out of 35 European markets. Dublin also ranked seventh highest in terms of Revenue Per Available Room. Dublin has circa 25,860 hotel bedrooms. By comparison, the Stockholm hotel bedroom stock is about 39,000 while Amsterdam has a total stock of around 42,000. Dublin has fewer bedrooms than both comparably sized cities, despite having the fastest growing economy in Europe.” The Wilder Townhouse provides 42 of the very best bedrooms Dublin has to offer.

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Wilde Restaurant + The Westbury Hotel Dublin

Come What May

Oscar Wilde: “I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.” A walk down O’Connell Street and beyond is a walk down memory lane. Dublin is full of ghosts of built and once human form. Clery’s department store closed in 2015. Across the River Liffey, and up Grafton Street, there used to be two department stores facing one another. Switzer’s, once owned by Mohammed Al Fayad, disappeared in 1990 while Brown Thomas has kept going. In 2021, the Weston family sold Brown Thomas and Selfridges in London for a few billion euro to a Thai and Austrian consortium.

Tucked behind Grafton Street, Powerscourt Townhouse Centre is comfortingly still intact as the city’s most original shop and restaurant destination. Once the urban seat of the Wingfield family, it’s full of the exuberant 18th century plasterwork made popular by the Italian Francini brother stuccodores. Walking over the uneven Georgian floorboards along the galleries has the unsteadying feel of being on a slightly rocky ship. Round the corner the only evidence that Odessa bar and restaurant ever existed, never mind being the coolest hangout in town circa 2001, is the sign, and even that’s about to disappear. Also tucked behind Grafton Street is another institution that is very much alive and kicking: The Westbury Hotel, part of The Doyle Collection.

Opened in 1984, this 205 bedroom five star hotel is still highly recognisable even after several multimillion euro renovations. The first floor restaurant Wilde overlooks Balfe Street below. A conservatory was added to the restaurant during one of the renovations. The 90s apricot colour scheme, linen tablecloths and synchronised cloche lifting have all long gone. In their place is a chintz free interior and informal vibe. Cane chairs, fern patterned cushions, botanical prints and tiled floor are all reminders this is definitely conservatory dining. Or rather lunching.

Dublin’s most wonderful waitress is an El Salvadorian lawyer. “Over six million people are squeezed into 21,000 square kilometres. It’s the smallest country in Central America,” she relates. “But there are great places to stay on the Pacific coastline. El Tunco beach and La Tibertand port are two of my favourite places. Our nostalgic produce is horchata: it’s a drink made from a blend of spices and seeds such as morro, sesame and peanut. My family own businesses and there used to be a lot of extortion. That’s all gone: the new President and his strict regime clamping down on gangs has been a gamechanger. El Salvador is the first country to have made Bitcoin a legal tender.” It’s time to book flights with United Airlines.

The Berkeley Court Hotel in Ballsbridge, a couple of kilometres south of The Westbury, has not survived. An RTÉ news report broadcast in 1978, “Providing first class comfort for guests is the aim of Dublin’s newest hotel The Berkeley Court. It is the newest hotel owned by Pascal Vincent Doyle. At £25 a night for a single bed, the majority of us will never be able to afford its delights. The 200 bedroom hotel is situated on the corner of Shelbourne Road and Lansdowne Road. Inside, it provides the standard demanded by wealthy American and Continental guests. With an emphasis on first class comfort, the luxury hotel is indicative of the upward trend of tourism in Ireland. The hotel was formally opened by Minister for Tourism and Transport, Padraig Faulkner.” This fellow epitome of late 20th century glamour was demolished in 2016 and replaced by apartments – Ballsbridge is the best residential address in Dublin.

Wilde deserves a Michelin star, or rather Oscar! It’s the best thing since sliced sourdough (of which there is plenty). So how much is lunch per person? Well, the same price as checking in for six nights to The Berkeley Court. Circa 1978. After Wilde, we’ll walk past the Oscar Wilde statue on Merrion Square and then we’ll head to The Wilder Townhouse to get dolled up for a wild (no E) night out in town. But not before Taizé Prayer in Newman University Church on St Stephen’s Green. Oscar Wilde: “Memory … is the diary that we all carry about with us.”

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IDA Global Headquarters + Iveagh Gardens Dublin

The Green Stuff

Everyone knows St Stephen’s Green in Dublin. But not so many people are aware that its southside buildings back onto Iveagh Gardens, a lower profile yet equally fine park. The brick rear elevations of Newman University Church (a windowless apse), Museum of Literature Ireland (a bow window and a chamfered bay with Gothick windows) and Stauntons on the Green Hotel (a pair of shallow chamfered bays) all rise above the archery grounds.

Iveagh Gardens are entered from the opposite side, off Upper Hatch Street. A new addition to the encircling cityscape, this time facing the park, is the IDA Ireland global headquarters, completed in 2019. Designed by Dublin practice MOLA, the transparent façade is a glacial foil to the verdancy of the gardens. IDA Chief Executive Martin Shanahan says, “The new location at Three Park Place provides IDA Ireland with an excellent location from which to market to global investors.” The IDA was previously located for 35 years at Wilton Place opposite the canal. Wilton Place is being redeveloped to the design of architects Henry John Lyons.

The Anglo Irish Guinness family have done so much for Ireland including Desmond and Mariga Guinness establishing the Irish Georgian Society in 1958. “Without a doubt,” writes Carola Peck in Mariga and Her Friends (1997), “both Desmond and Mariga worked unremittingly and unstintingly to save Dublin’s architectural heritage.” A century earlier, Benjamin Guinness leased Iveagh Gardens to the Dublin Exhibition Palace. The gardens were designed by landscape architect Ninian Niven, merging French Formal and English Landscape styles. His descendent Rupert Guinness 2nd Earl of Iveagh donated the gardens to the nation in 1939. The public – and IDA employees on their lunch break – can still enjoy the one metre high maze, sunken gardens with fountains, archery grounds, rustic grotto and cascade.

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The Metropolitan Hotel + Nobu Restaurant Park Lane London

Still Cool Britannia

“Park Lane is synonymous with worldly riches and fashionable life. Down its entire extent, from where it joins Oxford Street to the point at which it reaches Hamilton Place, great houses jostle each other in bewildering profusion on its eastern side, while on the west lies the Park with its mass of verdure, and, during the season, its kaleidoscopic ever shifting glow of brilliant colour.” Edwin Beresford Chancellor, The Private Palaces of London Past and Present, 1908

The Metropolitan Hotel and The Met Bar opened on Old Park Lane, which is parallel with Hamilton Place, just as Tony and Cherie Blair were entering No.10 Downing Street. Both Mets were an instant hit with celebrities. The bar closed in 2018; the hotel is still going strong. So is Nobu’s first European outpost on the first floor via its own discreet street entrance. The parent London Nobu has been joined by offspring restaurants and hotels in Portman Square and Shoreditch. There are 55 restaurants and 36 hotels in the group internationally now from Dallas to Dubai, San Diego to San Sebastián.

In 1987 Chef Nobu Matsuhisa opened his first restaurant in Beverly Hills. His Japanese Peruvian fusion food reflects his place of birth and place of training. Actor Robert de Niro soon joined him as business partner and together they embarked on world domination. The phrase “signature dish” might as well have been invented for Nobu as every other course is famous.

“I’ve got the best table in the house for you,” beckons the front of house at Nobu Park Lane. Always. The corner window table, the dining equivalent of the C suite. A personalised card with the traditional greeting “Irasshaimase” stands next to the crisply folded linen napkins. The direct view of Hyde Park is framed by the Four Seasons on the left and The Hilton on the right, that comforting proximity of five star luxury all around. The interior is a reminder that nobody ever did minimalism better than the Japanese. Park Lane is still synonymous with worldly riches and fashionable life.

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Boutique Hotel Club + Hotel Heritage Bruges

The Unfolding Star

Ann Plovie of Visit Bruges introduces us to the city, “The winter season represents cosiness and heartwarming moments with family and friends. Warm World Heritage City Bruges lends itself perfectly to this. Come and soak up the atmosphere in the historic setting of charming ‘reien’ (canals), monumental architecture and picturesque streets. Sip a fragrant coffee and enjoy a sharing platter. Discover some universal stories of care and empathy at the renovated Museum St John’s Hospital. The many almshouses also illustrate the care for the citizens of Bruges throughout the centuries.”

The poet Georges Rodenbach melodramatically explains in The Death Throes of Towns (1892) how during its Golden Age the city was once accessible by sea, “Here is how the drama unfolds. Once the town was linked to the sea by the Zwin, which via Damme sent a channel of deep water as far as Bruges, a royal river, where 1700 ships sent by Philip Augustus against the Flemish and English could easily manoeuvre … One day in 1473, however, the North Sea suddenly retreated and as a result the Zwin dried up, without them being able to dredge it clear or reestablish a flow of water; and henceforth, Bruges, now at some distance from that mighty breast of the ocean which had nourished her children, began to bleed dry and for four long centuries lay in the shadow of death.”

That silting would form a quilting, a protective layer, over the historic fabric, like the deliciously preserved Sandwich in Kent, “England’s prettiest town,” according to international tastemaker Charles Plante. The city in aspic would be rediscovered in the 20th century. Architectural historian Dr Roderick O’Donnell reveals, “It was important to the Romantic Catholic archaeological tourists and scholars, especially A W N Pugin, visiting in the 1830s, 1840s and 1850s.” Bruges plays a major role in Alan Hollinghurst’s novel The Folding Star (1994). He admires “the grand brick houses equally steeped in silence and discretion”, calling it a “beautiful little city”.

The house that is now the five star Hotel Heritage is positively recent by Bruges standards having been built in 1869 to the design of architect Louis Delacenserie. The earliest record of a house on this site does though date back to 1390. After a stint as a bank branch of Crédit Général Liégeois, it was converted into a luxury hotel. A new marble staircase and discreet lift were inserted for access to 18 en suite bedrooms on the first and second floors, and above. A top floor was added to provide four junior suites and an intimate roof terrace directly facing the Belfry, one of Bruges’s many landmarks.

As we exit our car we are greeted by name at the entrance porch. Our first floor bedroom has a balcony with horseshoe gaps in the stone balustrade overlooking Niklaas Desparsstraat (a relatively quiet street despite being a waffle’s throw from Grote Markt). Heavy bordered curtains, underbed lighting, underfloor bathroom heating, an iPad, a bowl of fruit and chocolates (this being Belgium), noon checkout … heaven’s in the detail in this European member of the Boutique Hotel Club.

Johan recalls, “In 1992, when we decided to buy and transform the building into Hotel Heritage, several factors contributed to our choice, primarily rooted in the historical significance and architectural charm of the property. The building itself carries a rich history, and we saw an opportunity to preserve and showcase its unique character. Many historic properties like ours often have a story to tell and can offer guests a sense of the past, creating a distinctive and memorable experience. We knew the neoclassical architecture and original details would add a touch of elegance and authenticity, making the hotel stand out. It’s located in the historic district near the cultural attractions.”

“We collaborated with interior designers to create a cohesive design that complements the historic building while providing modern amenities and comfort,” he adds. The first of the reception rooms, a sitting room off the entrance hall, is a cheerful upholstered avenue into another era, one of refinement, sophistication and elegance. Pictures of horses – Coronation, Cotherstone, Mameluke, Margrave, Our Nell, Plenipotentiary, Stockwell, Van Trump – hang on the floral wallpaper of the first dining room. The adjoining second dining room, also with tall windows overlooking Niklaas Desparsstraat, is rich and rightfully red (the hue that stimulates appetite and conversation). Full bodied crystal chandeliers softly illuminate the decorated painted ceilings. Two more clubby style sitting rooms are to the rear of the building, a chessboard and drinks trolley to hand.

Breakfast in the red dining room is both a buffet and table service affair, at once continental and full. It turns out to be one of the best hotel breakfasts we have ever had – and we get around. A vast chariot (trolley is much too humble a word) piled high with cold and hot delicacies dominates the floral dining room. On top of the sideboard are forests of fruit and two different types of cake each morning (apple and marmor today) and – this still being Belgium – three types of chocolate (dark, milk and white). After a Flanders cheeseboard with salmon, yoghurt, cereal, brioches, croissants, mushrooms and tomatoes it’s time for the waiter to up the ante. A spinach amuse bouche arrives followed by the hotel’s speciality poached egg on biscuit wafer. Strawberry and apple juice is in a carafe not a glass. When we lift up our china cups to drink coffee, a red butterfly is revealed on the saucers underneath (more heaven’s in the detail). Our waiter brings a chocolate mousse just in case we’re still hungry. Philippe Mallet Champagne starts the day in style.

“Begin with a visit to the Belfry of Bruges for panoramic views of the city,” Johan advises. We’re on the up. Maybe it’s the 7am Champagne but the two way spiral staircase in the 83 metre high building (equating to over 27 modern storeys) is a trial of balance and navigation. Still, the climb is worth it for the exhilarating view from the bell level gallery. At this height everything appears so homogeneously historic, revivifying Georges Rodenbach’s city of monuments amidst “the pervasive presence of the waters”.

Round a few corners from Hotel Heritage, Poortersloge is a contemporary art gallery serving as an incubator for nascent creative talent in Burghers’ Lodge which was built between 1395 and 1417. Inside, the brilliant white walls and ebon blackness of the ceilings match the monochromatic work of the 12 photographers work on display. The centrepiece of Kwart Voor Nacht (Quarter to Midnight) is a piece by the multidisciplinary Belgian artist Yves Gabriels. It’s a deconstructed biopsy: body parts and clothes fragments are arranged along a swing hanging in front of a hospital curtain. Yves suggests, “I am the surgeon in my anatomical theatre.” He creates skin using a symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast. Bruges-la-Morte-Encore-Une-Fois. It’s not for those uneasy in dynamics below mezzoforte. The cadence of the city bells can be heard beyond the huge mullioned windows. In April, the well orchestrated Bruges Triennial will bring contemporary art and installations to the streets as well, hitting all the high notes.

Johan reminisces, “I appreciate the opportunity to reflect on the changes in Bruges since my upbringing in the city. Bruges has undergone a remarkable transformation, blending its rich historical heritage with a growing contemporary vibrancy. One noticeable change is the increasing global recognition and popularity of Bruges as a tourist destination. The city has gracefully embraced this influx, maintaining its charm while accommodating the diverse interests of visitors.”

He concludes, “The preservation efforts and restoration projects have been noteworthy, ensuring that the architectural gems and cultural treasures are meticulously maintained. The revitalisation of public spaces and historic buildings has added a renewed sense of vitality to the city. While change is inevitable, Bruges has admirably retained its enchanting atmosphere, and the community’s commitment to sustainability and cultural preservation has contributed to a city that continues to captivate locals and visitors alike. Overall, witnessing Bruges evolve has been a fascinating journey, and I’m excited to see how the city continues to balance its rich history with the demands of the present and future. I am happy to be able to contribute as a hotelier.” The city continues to unfold, revealing old and added layers of intricacy and delight. A new Golden Age is dawning.

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Raoul De Koning + Le Mystique Restaurant Bruges

The Mystery Hidden for Long Ages Past

There’s gastro innovative and there’s Le Mystique. Hotel Heritage, a member of the prestigious Boutique Hotel Club, is one of the few privately owned establishments in Bruges to have its own restaurant. Johan Creytens, who along with his wife Isabelle owns and manages the hotel, remarks, “The emergence of diverse dining options reflects Bruges‘ ability to embrace change while celebrating its culinary traditions.” As night descends, the mystical turns magical at this restaurant right in the middle of medieval Bruges.

The principal dining room of Hotel Heritage opens to staying guests and visitors alike. Myriad mirrors reflect the soft lighting of the rich red interior. Chef Raoul De Koning breezes out of the frenetic kitchen across the floor on a busy Saturday night for a mid course welcome, “I studied and graduated at Hotelschool Ter Duinen where many of Belgium’s most famous chefs have attended. After my classical training I had the chance to specialise in world gastronomy. I love to combine the finest regional ingredients and Belgian cuisine with world flavours. I recently visited Qatar and have instilled some Middle Eastern influences into my cooking.”

Johan agrees, “Le Mystique restaurant opened its doors as part of Hotel Heritage in 2009. Since then, our culinary team has been dedicated to creating a dining experience that combines the rich flavours of Belgian and international cuisine with a touch of creativity and innovation. We aim to offer our guests not only a meal but a memorable and gastronomic journey in the heart of Bruges.

The set menu is adapted to pescatarian taste. A trio of amuse bouches – falafel, sweet potato and black bean – is promptly served. A happy note. Cauliflower moose is followed by three fish dishes: line caught seabass, squid, winter radish, labneh, squid ink sauce and bay leaf; red mullet, oyster, fennel, orange and Jerusalem artichoke; scallop, garum dressing, smoked herring, cauliflower, walnut, pastis. Bruges may no longer be maritime but the port of Zeebrugge is a mere 13 kilometres away. It’s like round the world in eight matching wines including Zull Weinviertel (Austrian), Villa Dria Jardin Secret (French), Borga (Italian) and Talento (Spanish). A very happy note. Beetroot pudding – poached, sorbet and meringue – rounds off the night in a blaze of rouge. A forever happy note. Le Mystique is at once glamorous and intimate, decadent and tasteful, in an increasingly byzantine world.

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Bruges +

Flemish Bonding

Soaring sky piercings; dormers that are gables that are dormers; cherry lip balm red cupolas; storey high blind windowed parapets; modern interpretations of medieval architectural forms … the Capital of West Flanders is full of eureka moments for the aesthetically alert of sagacious bent. Recharging the batteries is all about Champagne breakfast in Hotel Heritage, morning coffee in the Scottish Lounge, lunch in De Roopoorte and there’s only one place for dinner and that’s Le Mystique.

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Sammy Leslie + Castle Leslie Glaslough Monaghan

The Rear View 

In 2006 Ulster Architect was Ireland’s leading design magazine – by a country kilometre. Publisher Editor Anne Davey Orr blazed the trail much to the chagrin of Perspective journal which was set up in competition by some local architects to no fanfare: the bitterati. Ulster Architect far outlived Prince Charles’ blink and you’ll have missed it publication Perspectives in Architecture. Success is a dish best served cold. The articles in Ulster Architect – by Sir Charles Brett, Leo McKinstry and too many other literati to mention – have stood the test of time. It’s hard to believe that our interview with the glorious Sammy Leslie for the September edition of Ulster Architect is now nearly two decades old. Happy 18th!

Sir John Betjeman, Sir Winston Churchill, Marianne Faithfull, Sir Paul McCartney and William Butler Yeats have all been. The great and the good, the glitterati in other words. In recent years thanks to Sammy Leslie and her uncle the 4th Baronet, Sir John (forever known as Sir Jack), Castle Leslie has flung open its heavy doors to the hoi polloi (albeit the well heeled variety) too, rebuilding its rep as a byword for sybaritic hospitality. Visitors from Northern Ireland could be forgiven for experiencing déjà vu – it’s the doppelgänger of Belfast Castle. Both were designed in the 1870s by the same architects: William Lynn and Sir Charles Lanyon.

Together these two architects captured the spirit of the age. William Lynn produced a majestic baronial pile with chamfered bay windows perfectly angled for simultaneous views of the garden and lake. Sir Charles Lanyon crammed the house full of Italian Renaissance interiors and designed a matching loggia to boot. Fully signed up members of the MTV Cribs generation will find it hard not to go into unexpected sensory overload at this veritable treasure trove of historic delights. Castle Leslie is all about faded charm; it’s the antithesis of footballer’s pad bling. But still, the place is an explosion of rarity, of dazzling individuality. Sir Jack’s brother Desmond Leslie wrote in 1950, “The trees are enormous, 120 feet being average for conifers; the woods tangled and impenetrable; gigantic Arthur Rackham roots straddle quivering bog, and in the dark lake huge old fish lie or else bask in the amber ponds where branches sweep down to kiss the water.”

We caught up with Sammy in the cookery school in one of the castle’s wings. “Although I’m the fifth of six children, I always wanted to run the estate, even if I didn’t know how. After working abroad, I returned in 1991. The estate was at its lowest point ever. My father Desmond was thinking of selling up to a Japanese consortium. There was no income … crippling insurance to pay … The Troubles were in full swing. People forget how near we are to the border here.”

Nevertheless Sammy took it on. “I sold Dad’s car for five grand and got a five grand grant from the County Enterprise Board to start the ‘leaky tearooms’ in the conservatory. They were great as long as it didn’t rain! And I sold some green oak that went to Windsor Castle for their restoration. Sealing the roof was the first priority. Five years later we started to take people to stay and bit by bit we got the rest of the house done. So we finished the castle in 2006 after – what? – nearly 15 years of slow restoration.” The Castle Leslie and Caledon Regeneration Partnership part funded by the European Union provided finance of €1.2 million. Bravo! The house and estate were saved from the jaws of imminent destruction.

The Leslies are renowned for their sense of fun. An introductory letter sent to guests mentions Sir Jack (an octogenarian) will lead tours on Sunday mornings but only if he recovers in time from clubbing. In the gents (or “Lords” as it’s grandly labelled) off the entrance hall beyond a boot room, individual urinals on either side of a fireplace are labelled “large”, “medium”, “tiny” and “liar”. Take your pick. A plethora of placards between taxidermy proclaim such witticisms as “On this site in 1897 nothing happened” and “Please go slowly round the bend”.

Bathrooms are a bit of a Leslie obsession ever since thrones and thunderboxes were first introduced upstairs. “The sanitaryware in the new bathrooms off the long gallery is by Thomas Crapper. Who else?” she smiles. “We’ve even got a double loo in the ladies so that you can carry on conversations uninterrupted!” Exposed stone walls above tongue and groove panelling elevate these spaces above mere public conveniences. In the 1890s the 1st Sir John Leslie painted murals of his family straight onto the walls of the roof lantern lit long gallery, which runs parallel with the loggia, and framed them to look like hanging portraits.

Always one to carry on a family tradition with a sense of pun, this time visual tricks, Sammy has created a thumping big doll’s house containing an en suite bathroom within a bedroom which was once a nursery, complete with painted façade. It wouldn’t look out of place on the set of Irvine Walsh’s play Babylon Heights.

A sense of history prevails within these walls, from the mildly amusing to the most definitely macabre. The blood drenched shroud which received the head of James, 3rd Earl of Derwentwater, the last English earl to be beheaded for being a Catholic, is mounted on the staircase wall. “It’s a prized possession of Uncle Jack’s,” Sammy confides. Unsurprisingly, the castle is riddled with ghosts.

Our conversation moves on to her latest enterprise: the Castle Leslie Village. “An 1850s map records a village on the site,” she says. “Tenant strips belonging to old mud houses used to stretch down to the lake. Our development is designed as a natural extension to the present village of Glaslough.” In contrast to the ornate articulation of its country houses, Ulster’s vernacular vocabulary is one of restraint. Dublin architect John Cully produced initial drawings; Belfast practice Consarc provided further designs and project managed the scheme. Consarc architect Dawson Stelfox has adhered to classical proportions rather than applied decoration to achieve harmony. Unpretentiousness is the key. At Castle Leslie Village there are no superfluous posts or pillars or piers or peers or pediments or porticos or porte cochères. Self builders of Ulster take note!

That said, enough variety has been introduced into the detail of the terraces to banish monotony. Organic growth is suggested through the use of Georgian 12 pane, Victorian four pane and Edwardian two pane windows. There are more sashes than a 12th of July Orange Day parade. Rectangular, elliptical and semicircular fanlights are over the doorways, some sporting spider’s web glazing bars, others Piscean patterns. “We’ve used proper limestone and salvaged brick,” notes Sammy. “And timber window frames and slate.”

We question Sammy how she would respond to accusations of pastiche. “They’re original designs, not copies,” she retorts. “For example although they’re village houses, the bay window idea comes from the castle. The development is all about integration with the existing village. It’s contextual. These houses are like fine wine. They’ll get better with age.” It’s hard to disagree. “There’s a fine line between copying and adapting but we’ve gone for the latter.”

Later we spoke to Dawson Stelfox. “Pastiche is copying without understanding. We’re keeping alive tradition, not window dressing. For example we paid careful attention to solid-to-void ratios. Good quality traditional architecture is not time linked. We’re simply preserving a way of building. McGurran Construction did a good job. I think Castle Leslie Village is quite similar to our work at Strangford.” The houses are clustered around two highly legible and permeable spaces: a square and a green. Dwelling sizes range from 80 to 230 square metres. “We offered the first two phases to locals at the best price possible and they were all snapped up,” says Sammy. “This has resulted in a readymade sense of community because everyone knows each other already. A few of the houses are available for holiday letting.”

“We’re concentrating on construction first,” she explains. “The Hunting Lodge being restored by Dawson will have 25 bedrooms, a spa and 60 stables. It’ll be great craic! Between the various development sites we must be employing at least 120 builders at the moment. Estate management is next on the agenda. Food production and so on.” Just when we think we’ve heard about all of the building taking place at Castle Leslie, Sammy mentions the old stables. “They date from 1780 and have never been touched. Two sides of the courtyard are missing. We’re going to rebuild them. The old stables will then house 12 holiday cottages.”

We ask her if she ever feels daunted by the mammoth scale of the task. “I do have my wobbly days but our family motto is ‘Grip Fast’! I think that when you grow up in a place like this you always have a sense of scale so working on a big scale is normal. I mean it’s 400 hectares, there’s seven kilometres of estate wall, six gatelodges – all different, and 7,300 square metres of historic buildings.” Sammy continues, “The back wall from the cookery school entrance to the end of the billiard room is a quarter of a kilometre.”

“A place like this evolves,” Sammy ruminates. “There’s no point in thinking about the good ol’ days of the past. The castle was cold and damp, y’know, and crumbling. And it’s just – it’s a joy to see it all coming back to life. The whole reason we’re here is to protect and preserve the castle and because the house was built to entertain, that’s what we’re doing. We’re just entertaining on a grand scale. People are coming and having huge amounts of fun here. Castle Leslie hasn’t changed as much as the outside world. Ha!” This year there’s plenty to celebrate including the completion of Castle Leslie Village, the Leslie family’s 1,000th anniversary, Sammy’s 40th birthday, and Sir Jack’s 90th coinciding with the publication of his memoirs.

That was six years ago. This summer we returned to Castle Leslie. Our seventh visit, we first visited the house umpteen years ago. Back then Sammy served us delicious sweetcorn sandwiches and French onion soup in the leaky tearooms, looking over the gardens of knee high grass. The shadows were heightening and lengthening ‘cross the estate. Her late father Desmond showed a nun and us round the fragile rooms lost in a time warp. Ireland’s Calke Abbey without The National Trust saviour. He would later write to us on 11 May 1993, waxing lyrical to transform an acknowledgement letter into a piece of allegorical and existential prose.

On another occasion, Sammy’s younger sister, the vivacious blonde screenwriter Camilla Leslie, came striding up the driveway, returning home from London to get ready for her wedding the following week. “People have been buying me pints all day! Nothing’s ready! I’ve to get the cake organised, my dress, at least we’ve got the church!” she exclaimed to us, pointing to the estate church.

This time round we stay in Wee Joey Farm Hand’s Cottage in Castle Leslie Village and enjoy a lively Friday night dinner in Snaffles restaurant on the first floor of the Hunting Lodge. We’re all “tastefully atwitter over glissades and pirouettes” to take a quote from Armistead Maupin’s More Tales of the City (1984), applying it to a rural setting. The following day, afternoon tea is served, this time in the drawing room. Meanwhile, Sir Jack is taking a disco nap in the new spa to prepare for his regular Saturday night clubbing in nearby Carrickmacross.

That was four years ago. Visit number eight and counting. More to celebrate as Sammy, still living in the West Wing, turns 50. Sir Jack would have turned 100 on 6 December 2016 but sadly died just weeks before our visit. This time, we’re here for afternoon tea in the rebuilt conservatory or ‘sunny tearooms’ as they turn out to be today. The assault of a rare Irish heatwave, 26 degrees centigrade for days on end, won’t interrupt tradition. A turf fire is still lit in the drawing room. “Apologies for the mismatching crockery as so many of our plates have been smashed during lively dinner debates” warned a sign on our first visit. The crockery all matches now but the food is of the same high standard: cucumber and cream cheese brioches; oak cured Irish smoked salmon pitta; fruit scones with Castle Leslie preserves and clotted cream; crumpets and custard pies; rounded off with Earl Grey macaroons, Victoria sponge cake and lemon meringues.

Miraculously, Castle Leslie still has no modern extensions. It hasn’t been ‘Carton’d’ (in conservation-speak that means more extensions than an Essex girl in a hairdressers). Instead, the hotel has grown organically, stretching further and further into Lynn and Lanyon’s building. An upstairs corridor lined with servants’ bells – Sir J Leslie’s Dressing Room, Lady Leslie’s Dressing Room, Dining Room, Office – leads to a cinema carved out of old attics. Castle Leslie has had its ups and downs but Sammy Leslie is determined to ‘Grip Fast’! And in response to Ms Leslie’s late father’s letter to us, we will come again when there is nothing better to do on a nice weekend.

That nice weekend has come or at least a nice Friday evening. We’re here for a celebration dinner. January 2024 is especially cold – minus two degrees centigrade but the turf fires at Castle Leslie are, as ever, roaring. Dinner is in Conor’s Bar on the ground floor of the Hunting Lodge below Snaffles.

It’s 3pm in New York, 5am in Tokyo and 8pm in Glaslough according to clocks high up on the stone wall of the courtyard entrance hall. A poem by the comedian Billy Connolly, The Welly Boot Boy, hangs in the boot room. A cartoon series on The Gentle Art of Making Guinness hangs in the gents. And so to dinner: garlic tiger prawns (toasted sourdough, Estate Walled Garden chimichurri sauce) followed by sweet potato and mozzarella gnocchi (asparagus, peas, spinach and crushed basil) keep up the very high standard of gourmet cooking with local produce.

We’re dressed to the nines, accessorised by Mary Martin London, for our ninth visit to the castle. Sammy, looking as fresh as she did 18 years ago, also dining in Conor’s, greets us like a long lost friend. We congratulate her on saving one of Ireland’s most important historic houses and estates. “There’s still more to do!” she beams. “We need to restore the seven kilometre Famine Wall next and several gatelodges too. There’s always work to be done!”

Sammy explains that overnight guests staying in the castle bedrooms have breakfast in the dining room but later meals in the day are down in the Hunting Lodge as that’s where the main kitchen is now. The paradox of continuity and progress at Castle Leslie. Time stands still for no woman. The leaky tearooms may no longer leak but the ghosts are still all around, some new ones in their midst, silent misty figures just out of clear vision, partying in the shadows. To take another quote by Armistead Maupin, “Too much of a good thing is wonderful.”

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SABBATH PLUS ONE Louis Pasteur Street + The Jaffa Hotel Jaffa Tel Aviv

Love in a Hot Climate

“Now let my lord send his servants the wheat and barley and the olive oil and wine he promised, and we will cut all the logs from Lebanon that you need and will float them as rafts by sea down to Joppa. You can then take them up to Jerusalem.” II Chronicles 2:15 to 16

The sun stands still. Gazing across the Mediterranean shoreline (273 kilometres stretching north to Lebanon and tipping Egypt to the southwest), astonished by our own brilliance, mingling with the coastal elite, we are delighted how well the afternoon has turned out. “You will die! The Jaffa is gorgeous,” coos Parisienne Maud Rabanne, une dame cultivée. “Coucou! Have coffee on the roof terrace. It’s got the best view! The Jaffa is one of my favourite places. It’s fabuloso! C’est la vie! That’s what we say in Paris. We always mean it in a positive way. Montagne de baisirs. Remplie de joie d’amour et de bonheur. Tchin-tchin!” Cinq à sept. Coûte que coûte. Le paradis, c’est les autres.

Moshe Sakal describes a similar view in his novel The Diamond Setter (2018), “Tel Aviv sprawls out on the right, the rocks of Jaffa on the left, and straight ahead lies Andromeda’s Rock, a plain looking rock that juts out of the water with an Israeli flag billowing on its peak.” International architect John O’Connell hints, “Should you arrive at the hotel, go further up and down the hill, as the Roman Catholic church will be on your left, and nearly opposite it is a very fine and abandoned Ottoman building. A robust ensemble. Try to see the internal court, where I have failed to do so! Such supreme life and joy!” Ah, that will be the Old Saraya House taken over by clubbers, bats and thespians. Abandonment begone!

We’re enjoying a Mitfordesque moment (Love in a Cold Climate heated up from 1949) on that terrace: “So here we all are, my darling, having our lovely cake and eating it too, one’s great aim in life.” We’re feeling “very grand as well as very rich”. The pleasures of passing hours. It helps that this heroic hotel is emphatically designed by everybody’s favourite minimalist maestro, master of the monastic John Pawson, along with Israeli architect and conservationist Ramy Gill. Oracle of our own orbit, balancing on a notional pedestal, we don’t need a doctorate in aesthetics to appreciate John Pawson’s masterwork. John O’Connell is on a roll: “Mr P’s oeuvre is so restrained. Everything’s resolved.” It’s a breath of fresh air, or at least an intake of the coolest sea breeze imaginable. Soon we will be expounding riddles with the grand piano and dwelling on Gertrude Stein (Tender Buttons, 1914), “Cold climate. A season in yellow sold extra strings makes lying places.”

The 1870s Saint Louis V Hospital, built by French businessman François Guinet to the design of architectural practice Grebez and Ribellet and managed by the Sisters of Saint Joseph of the Apparition, has been sharply reimagined under John Pawson’s crisply contained direction. Delamination of extant solid form – from the remnants of a 13th century Crusaders’ bastion in the lobby to the peeling paint of the dusky pink loggias – leads to a richly layered intertextual discursively informative spirited patina of the raw and the worked throughout the revelatory restoration and clever conversion and audacious augmentation and sensual solution. Faded lettering over the arched doorways lining the loggias reads: ‘Communaute’, ‘Tribune’, ‘Salle Ste Elizabeth 2me Don Blesses, ‘Salle Ste Clotilde 2me Don Fievreux’, ‘Salle Ste Marie Pensionnaires’, ‘Orphelinat’. As Hans Ulrich Obrist (Ways of Curating, 2014) would interject, “… conversations … are happening between various narratives”.

Beyond the lobby with its Ligne Roset corduroy sofas and Damien Hirst spin paintings and lacquered backgammon tables lies a courtyard garden of sacred and human geometry (an unflowered greenscape) linking the ancient with the old with the new with the futuristic. John Pawson venerates yet challenges the original architecture, creating an unfolding sequence of voids and vistas and virtuosic visions. There’s an endless tightly choreographed play between past and present, architecture and art: a nuanced paradox of togetherness and oneness. As Elizabeth Bowen contends in The Heat of the Day (1948), “To turn from everything to one face is to find oneself face to face with everything.” There lies the definite ascetism – to be freed from oneself. Not even an Israeli Frances Hodgson Burnett (The Secret Garden, 1911) could summon up such discreet walled splendour. Corrugations of percolated sunshine ripple across the stone floor, climbing over chairs, falling over tables. Beyond the courtyard lies the Chapel Bar. The beyondness of many things. This world is our oyster and ours alone. It’s all it’s cracked up to be. Postcard home material. We’re checked in; we’ve checked out. Being here; doing it.

A private paradise. A secret world. A hidden kingdom. Cloistered espaliered sequestered formal glory. The very essence of unexampled exclusivity. If luxury could be bottled … heaven’s scent. A multiple epiphanic realisation of complete beauty. It was as if Elizabeth Bowen was in The Jaffa and not The House in Paris (1935), “Heaven – call it heaven; on the plane of potential not merely likely behaviour. Or call it art, with truth and imagination informing every word.” Marilynne Robinson (When I Was a Child I Read Books, 2012) insists, “Call it history, call it culture. We came from somewhere and we are tending somewhere, and the spectacle is glorious and portentous.”

Ah – the Chapel Bar – from litany and liturgy to luxury and libation, à la carte over elegy, mixology supplanting doxology, heterodoxy replacing orthodoxy, every hour is happy in this soaring sanctuary for sybarites. The only blues are the saturated cerulean hues of the ribbed vaulted ceiling. Beautiful in its loftiness, this bar is an explosion of sizzling rarity, of dazzlingly dilettantish individuality. There are no equals. There were no prequels. There’ll be no sequels. The perfect pitstop to slake your thirst, it’s like being at a house party if all your friends are knowingly sophisticated distractingly gorgeous models or similar ilk rocking new threads inspired by Inès de la Fressange’s (Parisian Chic Encore: A Style Guide, 2019) “haute couture and street style” – Doron Ashkenaz shirts and skin fade haircuts – dancing in eternal graceful circles. In Tel Aviv, kitchen and club are often confused so dancing on tables is de rigueur. A real era catcher: the New Roaring Twenties. Here they come The Beautiful Ones, The Fabulists, The Found Generation, Our Milieu. As befits our subject matter, we’re looking just a little bit sparkly ourselves: all dressed up in Elie Saab attire with somewhere to go; we shall go to the ball. What Roland Barthes (The Fashion System, 1963) calls “the euphoria of Fashion”. All of life has been a dress rehearsal for tonight. For a hot minute we’re running with the fastest set in town. To reference Nancy Mitford’s Don’t Tell Alfred (1963), it’s “high-falutin’, midnight stuff”.

The hotel is all “courtesy clouds” and “honeyed luxury” in a “rococo harmony” straight from The Diamond as Big as the Ritz (Frances Scott Fitzgerald, 1922). Average doesn’t exist in The Jaffa: it’s Lake Wobegon for real and we’ve got a majestic waterside view. Such is the alchemic segue! And who should know better than us? We’re qualified connoisseurs of fabulousness with diplomas in decadence, bachelors in brio and masters in magnificence. Very Bright Young Things. We’re taking the advice of Frédéric Dassas, Senior Curator of the Musée du Louvre Paris. During the Remembering Napoléon III Dinner at Camden Place in Kent he guided us: “Be part of the room; don’t just go through it.” The Chapel Bar is full of “people one should know” to channel Dorinda, Lady Dunleath. She would say, “It’s wild!” The glitter of this mirage. “Every generation has to keep the party going,” Her Ladyship always remarked in her Belgravia meets Ballywalter accent.

Morning figs and evening chocolates bookend a day’s room service. “Upstairs is crazy with dreams or love,” purrs Elizabeth Bowen (The House in Paris again). Guest suites breathe and stretch and sprawl across six uncrowded unhurried unparalleled bedroom floors, arabesque honeycomb filigreed screens flung open to the birds tweeting roosters crowing leaves rustling church bells peeling Saint Michael’s Greek Orthodox School pupils singing car horns honking cacophony. Deliciously diffused light seeps through the open window conjuring up a crimson carpet of crushed rubies. Devoid of demanding garniture or frivolous flotsam and jetsam, passing on the passementerie, the sole artwork in our bedroom is an orange tree captured by Israeli photographer Tal Shochat. Scholar Rebecca Walker educated us at the Remembering Napoléon III Dinner: “Eugénie, Empress of the French, had a fondness for knickknacks.” The unfussy décor of our bedroom would raise her imperial chagrin. A slanted mirror doubles as a reflection of perfection and a television. The perfumed aroma of jasmine and honeysuckle intensifies in the dying heat of a balmy summer day. And so to bed. Looking back, much later, like Frances Scott Fitzgerald’s character John we “remembered that first night as a daze of many colours, of quick sensory impressions, of music soft as a voice in love, and of the beauty of things, lights and shadows, and motions and faces”. Elizabeth Bowen’s line in To The North (1932) haunts us still: “this evening had an airy superurbanity”.

“… and he has filled him with the Spirit of God, with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge and with all kinds of skills – to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze, to cut and set stones, to work in wood and to engage in all kinds of artistic crafts.” Exodus 35:31 to 33

(Extract with alternative imagery from the bestseller SABBATH PLUS ONE Jerusalem and Tel Aviv).

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Von Essen Hotels + Cliveden House Hotel Berkshire

The Conservative Party

At one time they owned some of the best hotels in Britain. The portfolio of the two Andrews – Messrs Davis and Onraet embraced 30 odd mostly historic hotels included Ston Easton Park in Bath, Sharrow Bay in Cumbria, and most famously of all Cliveden in Berkshire. They knew how to throw a good party – we didn’t need an excuse to jive away an evening at their stuccoed Belgravia mansion. The Sunday Times restaurant critic Michael Winner was a close friend; Raine Countess Spencer was too. You never knew who you’d share a bottle of Moët with by the indoor basement swimming pool.

So when they suggested we visit Cliveden, there was only one response: when can we go? It was the heady summer of 2010 when we went south to Berkshire’s best. Our review for Luxury Travel Magazine at the time contained the prescient line, “Notoriety and Cliveden go hand in hand.” Sadly, little did we know that two years after our visit Von Essen would go out of business. A certain Meghan Markle and her mother would later spend the night before her wedding to Prince Harry at Cliveden. The National Trust continues to own the grounds while the hotel has changed hands several times since.

Another forte of the two Andrews was PR. Von Essen sponsored The Sunday Times’ Rich List and regularly appeared in the glossies. An article predating their tenure was written by Jo Newson and Dorothy Bosomworth in Traditional Interior Decoration, February / March 1988. They state, “Country house hotels are a relatively recent phenomenon. They have sprung up with a demand for something more than comfort: a wider appreciation of style without streamlining, and a recognition of the value of old buildings in our brave new world. Cliveden is one of the most recent – and important – examples.”

Here goes. At a bend in the Thames a house has twice risen from the ashes: welcome to Cliveden. Have you ever stayed at an historic hotel and yearned to learn more about its past? Von Essen Hotels have the answer. Throughout 2010 they are rolling out Heritage Concierges at all their properties. Guests can discover the history of the hotel they are staying at through a dedicated member of staff. Tours are free but must be booked upon arrival. First to offer this innovative concept is Cliveden (drop your E’s to pronounce “Cliv’d’n”) in Berkshire.

And what a task. Cliveden has been the scene of riotous living by the rich and infamous for almost three and a half centuries. Spies, call girls, billionaires, dukes and queens have all partied hard here. The name is so synonymous with presidential league entertaining that even the Sugar King Julio Lobo referred to his bolthole for holding court in Havana as the “Cliveden of Cuba”. But Michael Chaloner, Cliveden’s Heritage Concierge, is well up to the job. He jokes that he’s been at the hotel forever. Michael explains, “Surprisingly the house has never been the principal seat of any of its owners. It’s always been a holiday home if somewhat on a grand scale. When it was converted to a hotel in 1985 barely any changes needed to be made.” Some things really haven’t changed. Sue Crawley, Hotel Manager – actually the staff never refer to “hotel” but rather “house” – comments, “All the food still comes up on trays from the cellar kitchen. This involves navigating four twists of the narrow staircase!”

The present house is an impossibly palatial affair erected in 1852 to the design of Sir Charles Barry for the 2nd Duke of Sutherland. This starchitect practised his penchant for all things Italianate a decade earlier at the Reform Club on Pall Mall, London, before being let loose at Cliveden. It’s hard not to feel important, sitting on plumped up cushions in the Great Hall under the disdainful eye of Lady Astor in a Sargent portrait, while on the other side of the tall sash windows a gaggle of National Trust tourists gawk and traipse past (Von Essen lease the building from The National Trust).

Each of the 39 bedrooms is individually decorated and named after someone connected to the house, from the Tudorbethan panelling of the Mountbatten Room to the sloping ceilings of the Prince Albert Room. In the Asquith Room you can lie back in the bath and watch the limos pulling up in the forecourt three storeys below. Thankfully there’s not a modern extension in sight. Fancy a fourposter bed? No problem, try the Chinese Room. A coronet bed? That will be the Sutherland Suite. A polonaise bed? Not sure, but there’s probably one somewhere. Cliveden doesn’t do second class. No wonder Queen Victoria stayed here for six weeks.

Henry Ford, Franklin Roosevelt and George Bernard Shaw have also enjoyed stints at Cliveden. In 1893 the hideously wealthy American tycoon William Astor, who’d bought the house 13 years earlier for a staggering $1.25 million, presented it to his son as a wedding gift. Halcyon days beckoned as Astor junior and his glamorous wife Nancy hosted society. The government of the day was broke (sounds familiar?) and so ministers were only too glad to meet visiting dignitaries at Cliveden. But it is the fall of a later government that keeps Michael’s tour especially lively. Almost half a century ago, on a balmy Saturday evening in midsummer the Secretary of State for War Jack Profumo clapped eyes on Christine Keeler, a 19 year old demimondaine, larking round the outdoor swimming pool. The rest is history as immortalised in the 1989 film Scandal starring John Hurt, Ian McKellen and Joanne Whalley.

“Lord Astor had persistent backache,” says Michael, “so he allowed his osteopath Stephen Ward use of Spring Cottage on the estate as payment in kind. That fateful evening the party staying at Spring Cottage included Ward’s acquaintance Christine Keeler and Yevgeny Ivanov, a Soviet assistant attaché who was also a spy. Meanwhile Profumo and his wife, the beautiful Northern Irish actress Valerie Hobson, were guests of the Astors. After dinner they strolled out of the house to the pool area. Profumo in a dinner jacket; Keeler emerging from the pool in a dripping towel. Their clandestine affair began the following day. When Keeler sold her story to a tabloid it was revealed she’d been sleeping with both Profumo and Ivanov at the same time.” A case of Reds in the beds.

Jack Profumo baldly denied any impropriety in his relationship with Christine Keeler in a statement to the House of Commons. “Well he would, wouldn’t he?” tartly snapped Mandy Rice-Davies, Christine’s best buddy and co accused of prostitution, later at the subsequent court case. He finally confessed although not before suing Paris Match and Italian magazine Il Tempo for libel. Stephen Ward was tried on trumped up charges relating to immoral earnings and committed suicide before the case concluded. Jack’s career lay in tatters and the furore brought down the then Conservative government in 1964. The swimming pool is now Grade I Listed in its own right.

Notoriety and Cliveden go hand in hand. Its first owner, the 2nd Duke of Buckingham, was imprisoned several times in the Tower of London. It was said of the Duke that “a young lady could not resist his charms … all his trouble in wooing was, he came, saw and conquered”. He challenged his mistress’s husband to a duel in 1696. And lost. A cross sword emblem set into the East Lawn commemorates his gory death. Even the luscious interiors, manicured to within a square centimetre of their lives, aren’t quite all they seem. Look closely and you’ll find the unexpected, from blood spattered soldiers lurking in the Great Hall tapestries to rabbits mercilessly trapped behind balusters in the gruesome plasterwork of the French Dining Room.

Once a full day’s coach ride from London, Cliveden is now just an hour by train from Paddington. A chauffeur can pick you up from the station at nearby Burnham. Natch. Culinary delights to satisfy the most demanding of gourmands await. The Terrace Dining Room greedily devours six windows of the nine bay garden front. Menu highlights include John Dory slowly cooked to perfection and Heston Blumenthalesque chocolate fondant (The Fat Duck restaurant is a mere 6.5 kilometres downstream).

Business Development Manager Amanda Irby confirms that these days you are more likely to find television chef Jamie Oliver celebrating his 10th anniversary at an informal dinner on the terrace than any political mischief unfolding. “Or you may well pass Sir Paul McCartney engaged in conversation with his daughter Stella next to the Great Hall fireplace,” she remarks. Indeed the President of Afghanistan held meetings in the Macmillan Room lately. History is rumbling along. The Heritage Concierge at Cliveden will never be short of tales to update his tours.

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SABBATH PLUS ONE Jerusalem + Tel Aviv

Diligent Hands Make Wealth

Achilles James Daunt CBE is not one to rest on his laurels. MD and reinventor of British bookshop chain Waterstone since 2011, back in 1990 the former banker purchased an Edwardian bookshop on Marylebone High Street (incidentally the US Ambassador to the UK Jane Hartley’s favourite London street), stocked it with the best titles, renamed it after himself, and the rest is literary history. The top lit three storey interior is lined with long oak galleries. Stained glass windows and William Morris wallpaper add to the period charm of what is now undoubtedly London’s finest bookshop. There are offshoots in Belsize Park, Cheapside, Hampstead, Holland Park Kentish Town, Oxford and Marlow.

We’re proud to announce Daunt Books Marylebone is the world exclusive stockist of the first book by Lavender’s Blue. You’re getting our dynamic: SABBATH PLUS ONE Jerusalem and Tel Aviv now takes pride of place in the Middle East travel section shelves. It’s about all our favourite places rolled into two: one of the newest and one of the oldest cities in the world. Brought to fruition by the genius of Digitronix, industry leaders in multi disciplinary design and print. Not forgetting Pete R’s invaluable direction. Beyond conventional categorisation, for we are more than mere phantoms, maybe it’s best to quote some readers’ reactions (from Royalty to Archbishopry to Clergy to Society) to the first edition. Time for some laurel resting.

“This is an outstanding achievement. A vivid creative expression of your wide literary interests and your strong visual sense — and particularly for this subject, your personal spiritual values. Being a person of no religion myself, I’m enjoying your quotations from Biblical sources, especially those expressed in 17th century language. Also the well chosen theological and historical quotes from leading writers of today which are thought provoking. Your rich text together with your wonderful illustrations gives the reader so much to understand and to appreciate about the places described. Congratulations! This is a very engaging book for the reader, it feels like the living experience of a journey with the many historical facts, associations and emotions that are stimulated by travel. In many ways your book makes me think of Jan Morris, who is the ‘grand master’ of travel writing — though she doesn’t offer the reader your richness of visual imagery! I should add that I’m also enjoying your Nancy Mitford references and I really love your quote from Min Hogg: ‘Visiting a hot country especially for those who are not native to it reawakens the senses.’ This is so true.”

“Super, you capture the essence of the Holy Land and Presentation A1, your Singular Contribution to Publishing today. The Slip Cover, so enticing as is the Midnight Blue Binding. So many thanks for the mention, and so apt the dedication to Brother and Prince Alfred. Vulcans must have carried you from desk to studio, as I have never seen a publication arrive at such speed, it is the works of you and the God of letters and images. Now congratulations, and press on now with the next Project, you have The Gift!”

“How wonderful, beautiful, how gracious. So with the packaging still on the floor the next hour was spend reading the text and looking at the gorgeous photographs. Thank you SO much it was so kind of you to think of me for such a beautiful book. I look forward to reading more.  I’ve noticed how the Biblical texts seem so comfortable on the page but also how they are vibrant or energy filled almost as if they jump off the page. You have chosen so well and carefully.”

“Just opened the sumptuous tome on Tel Aviv. What fabulous photographs – they really inspire me to visit and confirm all the wonderful things I have heard about the city. I shall study as the nights draw in and dream of sun kissed climes. You are a true artist of the lens! Straight to the top of the pile … after reading.”

“I was blown away by the stunning book … It is beautiful! I am in awe of the clarity and depth of each picture that speaks so vividly they draw you in … And the time, skill and story you have shared through this stunning piece of art! Thank you so so much (I particularly like page 180)!”

“AND – yesterday we opened a parcel with an amazing book in it – Sabbath Plus One is amazing – what a wonderful creation … utterly incredible and what a lovely gift – we were both enthralled. THANK YOU so much for sending us a copy – beyond that I am speechless! Just THANK YOU.”

“An Amazing Work – I really can’t believe it was the fruit of a lay weekend visit. It feels like you really got under the skin of the place – and had great fun in doing so. Your work is already drawing much attention from those coming into my office.”

“A very interesting book – amazing photos taken with an architectural eye. Brought back memories! I see Newtownstewart and Pubble got a mention on page 28!”

“Amazing photography accompanied by your usual descriptive style and excerpts from Scripture too. Wonderful!”

“Super Daunt Books reception! You follow in the paths of H V Morton and Mary McCarthy. Again, press on and on.”

“A total entity onto itself.”

“I like the book title.”

“A beautiful book.”

(Alternative imagery from the bestseller SABBATH PLUS ONE Jerusalem and Tel Aviv).

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SABBATH PLUS ONE Frishman Beach + Hilton Hotel Tel Aviv

Chartered Waters

“No, we declare God’s wisdom, a mystery that has been hidden and that God destined for our glory before time began.” I Corinthians 2:7

The past is a foreign country; sometimes so is the present. Ah, the orgastic present. An amplification of sorts, a reawakening of existential and pragmatic reality. Golden crowns glisten upon the pent up jasper sea off the Mediterranean coast, glowing with the creative energy of God. Mighteous waves beat in from the allure of azure horizons, ethereal expanses of shining sand at once quotidian and crystalline. And then there is the sunlight, as efficacious as an Evensong prayer. Igniting unforeseen possibilities, purveying happenstance; renewals of experience apart, we remain unacquainted with neo and pseudo.

In What Are We Doing Here? (2000), Marilynne Robinson originates, “And yet the beautiful persists, and so do eloquence and depth of thought, and they belong to all of us because they are the most pregnant evidence we have of what is possible in us.” Keeping it surreal, through an interrogation of the Rogation, doxological precepts acknowledged, spangled heavens approaching, Tel Aviv stretches forth in vital immediacy under an ever-luring sky. Encountering beauty through the iridescent glow of an evanescent world, sidestepping the modish while fleeing material status, in a reordering of hierarchies, we sew the tapestry of our simple joyful lives.

Marilynne Robinson again: “We have looked into Melvillean nurseries, and glimpsed the births of stars that came into being many millions of years ago, an odd privilege of our relation to space and time. Properly speaking, we are the stuff of myth.” Our late afternoon stroll along Frishman Beach after dropping down from Independence Park (a hilltop fairy land of three hectares) proves singular and providential, echoing a strange efficacy, a special instance of the matrix of being. She muses, “There is something irreducibly thrilling about the universe … a reality whose astonishments we can never exhaust.” The Very Reverend Canon Richard Sewell told the congregation at St George’s Cathedral in Jerusalem, “The universe is stranger than we realise and is stranger than we can realise.” Wonders unto many, we are magnified and tainted by elegiac projection, poignancy and beauty. Today is the beginning of always.

“He told them, ‘The secret of the kingdom of God has been given to you. But to those on the outside everything is said in parables.” Mark 4: 11(Extract with alternative imagery from the bestseller SABBATH PLUS ONE Jerusalem and Tel Aviv).

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Architecture Design Developers Hotels Town Houses

Friar Lane + New Street + St Martin’s West Leicester Leicestershire

Greyfriars

“‘I like everything old fashioned,’ said Eleanor; ‘old fashioned things are so much the honestest,’” Anthony Trollope scribes in his 1857 classic Barchester Towers. And there’s nothing so old fashioned – in a good way – than a cathedral close, something he captured in words better than anyone else in his series of six novels about the fictional cathedral town of Barchester.

The first issue of Country Homes and Interiors magazine was hot off the printers in April 1986. The August edition of that year featured an article by Moira Rutherford called Close Encounters about clergy living in cathedral quarters. Archdeacon Michael Perry who lived in Durham Cathedral Close summed it up: “Someone once said clergy consists of middle class people living in upper class houses on lower class incomes. That’s certainly true here. All the canons have at least two jobs.”

Dean Richard Eyre who lived in Exeter Cathedral Close said, “It’s not difficult to heat a big old house like this; it’s simply difficult to pay for it. The guest room alone measures 30 feet by 18. It’s lucky the house only has three bedrooms not including attic rooms.” The immediate area around Leicester Cathedral has the appearance of a close (lots of substantial period houses) but is actually a legal quarter known as Greyfriars. Handsome Georgian terraces line several streets including Friar Lane and New Street; the latter heading northwards frames a view of the cathedral.

One of the best Georgian houses in Greyfriars is 17 Friar Lane. It’s one of 30 buildings which have received restoration funding from the Greyfriars Townscape Heritage Initiative. This was a restoration programme set up by Leicester City Council and supported by the National Lottery Heritage Fund. In 2016 the sash windows and ornate timber Doric entrance doorcase were restored with a £50,000 grant.

Built in 1750 for banker William Bentley, 17 Friar Lane has a sophisticated three storey façade vertically divided into three by quoin pilasters. The central portion of the symmetrical brick elevation is particularly well handled with a Palladian window over the entrance door and a Diocletian window on the top floor. A pediment over the cornice completes the geometric arrangement. Whoever the architect was had a strong grasp of ornament and proportion.

The half timbered wholly jettied 14th century Guildhall on St Martin’s West next to Leicester Cathedral is a rare survivor predating the Georgian redevelopment of the area. Old fashioned indeed.

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Campbell-Rey + The London Edition Hotel Fitzrovia London

Club Fenderland

The multi use lobby of The London Edition was a popular concept when it first opened. A decade later, the vast space is still buzzing. It encompasses workspace, a bar, a lounge area next to an open fire, reception, billiards and – from tonight – a Christmas tree designed by Campbell-Rey. The design studio founded by Duncan Campbell and Charlotte Rey takes a seasonal bow to Karl Friedrich Schinkel’s 1816 set design for The Magic Flute by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart with its oversized Murano glass baubles in colour and mirror finishes dangling between decorations hand painted to resemble lapis, onyx, marble and malachite. The gilded star atop the tree comes straight from one of the artistic Prussian polymath’s Queen of the Night’s Hall of Stars drawings. To celebrate the unveiling of the Christmas tree, guests are serenaded by a haloed cappella choir while devouring canapés and downing cocktails.

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The Londoner Hotel Leicester Square London + Hale Zero

You’re Driving Us Crazy

“Would you like Champagne?” proves to be the perfect entry to the perfect party. This is gonna be epically crazy – we can tell already. Do you remember when the festive season started in December? Or when Christmas trees had red and gold decorations? And the weekend began on a Friday? Well deep breath. November is the new December. Black and white is the new red and gold. And tonight, Monday is the new Friday.

Fashion designer Huishan Zhang dreamt up the most monochromatic Christmas tree imaginable for The Stage (isn’t that the world?) bar of The Londoner Hotel, Leicester Square. The black and white party dress code has been mostly adhered to with a few notable exceptions. Glam squads have been busy. Lady Elspeth Catton (played brilliantly by Rosamund Pyke in Emerald Fennell’s baroque comedic thriller Saltburn) with her “complete and utter horror of ugliness” would approve.

After black cod lime and Bloody Mary avo tartare entrées, Yasmine and Yuzu Margaritas, Lychee Rosé and Monte Velho Branco are pumped into us and before we know it we’ve been swept up to Eight (the height’s in the name) bar. What fresh heaven awaits? Celestial socialites and power creatives Pippa Vosper and Susan Bender Whitfield are getting ready to fill that penthouse dancefloor. Troops! You have your marching orders! Get to it!

Hale Zero is whipping up an absolute musical storm. Fresh from playing at the Beckhams’ Netflix party, the trio is always raring to go. The brilliant Brixton brothers get to the remixes, the grooves, the mashups, all the tunes with that vigour of tonight we are all “forever young”! And then without warning the whole floor erupts into synchronised dancing to Beyonce’s Crazy in Love. “Would you like more Champagne?” For the first time ever, no, we’re too busy dancing! As Lady Elspeth likes to say, “How wonderful!”

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Nate Freeman + The London Edition Hotel Punch Room Fitzrovia London

The Second Age of Umber

“You must not ever stop being whimsical.” Staying Alive by Mary Oliver, 2016.

When New Yorker Nate Freeman, ArtTactic podcaster and Vanity Fair writer, comes to town where does he go and what does he do? Why, he fills the Punch Room in The London Edition with 100 of the capital’s brightest. Punch and conversation flow while supper is served. Gruyere and thyme tartlets and tuna kimchi seaweed canapés to be precise. Waving goodbye to Nate and the revellers, the following morning it’s the Sheraton Grand Park Lane Hotel for Women Leading Real Estate. And for breakfast? Canapés of course.

“And you must not, ever, give anyone else the responsibility of your life.” Still Staying Alive by Mary Oliver, 2016.

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Stapleford Park Hotel + St Mary Magdalene Church Melton Mowbray Leicestershire

Making a Splash

It was 35 years ago and there was no escaping Stapleford Park in the print media. American entrepreneur Bob Payton knew how to make a splash. Instead of hiring only interior designers to decorate the bedrooms of his newly converted country house hotel, he threw a shirtmaker, a porcelain company and a perfumier amongst many others into the mix. It caught the press and public’s attention. Eight years later, another media savvy entrepreneur, this time Englishman Peter de Savary, took over Stapleford Park and opened it as one of his Carnegie Club outpost adding not least the Knot Garden in front of the main entrance door. Cue double page spreads in the supplements once more. Skibo Castle in Dornoch, the home of the Victorian philanthropic industrialist Andrew Carnegie, continues to be a Carnegie Club. His portrait hangs in the gents’ bathroom at Stapleford Park. Just when we thought life couldn’t get any more glamorous, we find ourselves pottering about the Wedgwood Room of the hotel, weighing up a walk in the Capability Brown designed parkland of heaven verging fields versus tea on the terrace. Happy camping. We do both.

Bob Payton bought the house and its 200 hectare estate from Lord Gretton for £600,000 and spent a further £4 million rejuvenating and opening it as a hotel and leisure resort. We’re privileged to exclusively share his last recorded interview before he died in a car crash in 1994: “I first saw Stapleford Park from the back of a horse riding nearby in rolling countryside. Stapleford has been for many centuries a sporting lodge with riding, shooting and lavish entertainment all part of its heritage. It is our endeavour to keep that same style for many years to come. So interesting is the history of Stapleford Park and fascinating its architecture that the house was open to the public for several decades. Walking through the house and around the grounds is like going on a magical mystery tour. Through each and every doorway, there is another adventure. Set in 500 acres of woodland and parkland, the house provides breathtaking views of the surrounding countryside from every room.”

“Our approach to life in the country is that of a relaxed, comfortable, casual existence. We’ve replaced the servants and butlers if the old days with a team of people who are dedicated to making sure you enjoy our home and all it has to offer. We hope you like our approach to hospitality. To complement the eclectic architectural style of this most unusual house I invited several famous names to design bedrooms based on their own image of life at Stapleford Park. Signature bedrooms have been created by Tiffany, Wedgwood, Lindka Cierach, Lady Jane Churchill, Crabtree and Evelyn, Nina Campbell, Liberty, Max Pike and many others. We’re thrilled that these folks found Stapleford Park such an exciting challenge.”

“The dining room is decorated with ornate and intricate woodwork accredited to the most famous of all English carvers, Grinling Gibbons. In these luxurious surroundings, we serve traditional English cuisine with the occasional flair of old fashioned American cooking. You can enjoy the food that Stapleford’s guests have enjoyed over the centuries and much much more. As for sport, the surrounding Leicestershire countryside is most famous for its equestrian links. We offer most kinds of equestrian pursuits including carriage driving and riding instruction. There is clay shooting on the property and game shooting can be arranged. You can fish on the lake in front of the house or at nearby Rutland Water. If that’s not enough, there’s tennis, croquet and basketball, as well as walks through and around the property in this most lovely of settings.”

“Come and discover a truly great undiscovered part of England. Stapleford Park is in reality most people’s fantasy of the quintessential English countryside. Let me tell you about Edward Prince of Wales. His mother wouldn’t let him buy Stapleford Park because she felt that his morals might be corrupted by the Leicestershire hunting society. Well that was 100 years ago. Fortunately the Royal Family settled at Sandringham so that all of us may now enjoy the pleasures of this most idyllic estate.” The Royal Family are still happily ensconced at Sandringham and we are even more happily enjoying life at Stapleford Park.

The house glows a golden hue in afternoon sunshine and shimmers a mysterious grey in morning mist. Poet Mary Oliver writes in her essay Wordsworth’s Mountain (Upstream Collected Essays, 2016), “This is to say nothing against afternoons, evenings, or even midnight. Each has its portion of the spectacular. But dawn – dawn is a gift.” Every elevation and wing is a piece of architecture in itself and together they form a visual whole in material only. Crunchie the ginger cat (technically the neighbour’s but wise enough to hang out on the estate) matches the ashlar stone. One minute Stapleford Park is a Jacobean manor house; turn a corner, the next minute it’s a Queen Anne stately home; turn another corner, a Jacobethan hunting lodge; one more, a Loire château. As for the entrance front facing the quiet waters of the lake, the nine bay string coursed perfection is as symmetrical as a supermodel’s face. No big name architects are recorded (unlike the landscape and panelling!) but two owners have added their name for posterity in stone carvings on the exterior of a wing: “William Lord Sherard Baron of Letrym Repayred This Building Anno Domini 1633”. Underneath there’s a postscript: “And Bob Payton Esq. Did His Bit Anno Domini 1988”.

Indoors the eclecticism continues thanks partly to the layering of six or so centuries and partly to the aforementioned cohorts of dreamers and designers let loose on the fabric and fabrics. The main block is laid out around two vast double height top lit spaces: the Staircase Hall and adjacent Saloon. Public and private lounging and dining ebbs and flows throughout the ground floor. The Morning Room (with its mullioned bay window). The Harborough Room (crimson Gainsborough silk wallpaper). Billiard Room (converted games table). The Orangery (windows galore). The Grinling Gibbons Dining Room (festooned panelling by his namesake). The Old Kitchen (stone vaulted ceiling). Formal dinner is served in the Grinling Gibbons Dining Room: Baron De Beaupre Champagne; pea, goat’s curd, mint pistou tartlet and crispy onions; butter roasted cod, fennel and leak cream, new potatoes, sea herbs. Stapleford Park is a bread roll’s throw from Melton Mowbray and its Stilton Creamery so a generous cheese board offering is called for: Beacon Fell, Bingham Blue, Pitchfork Cheddar, Ribblesdale Goat’s, Tuxford and Tebbut Stilton. Five tall sash windows frame the descent of darkness. Mary Oliver again, “Poe claimed he could hear the night darkness as it poured, in the evening, into the world.”

The first floor is filled to the ceiling roses with the Grand Rooms: Savoir Beds, Crabtree and Evelyn, Wedgwood, Lady Jane Churchill, Baker, Turnbull and Asser, Flemish Tapestries, Amanda by Today Interiors, Campion Bell, Sanderson, Eleanor, Lyttle, Lady Gretton, Zoffany, Warner. We’re in the Wedgwood Room, one of the very grandest, with views across the green pastures. Below a Waterford Crystal chandelier and over a Wilton carpet everything is iconic Wedgwood blue and white from the wallpaper to soap dish. Life and Works of Wedgwood, a book by Eliza Meteyard (1865) in the library, praises the entrepreneurial potter, “His name lives in the industrial history of the country he loved so well, and so enriched by the bounties of his art and the example of his worthy life.” Ah, on the table that’s just what we like: a handwritten welcome note. And sash windows that open fully.

The second floor is filled to the rafters with the Slightly Less Grand Rooms: Panache, Wishing Well, Haddon, Treetops, Bloomsbury, Savonerie, Sanderson, Molly, Peacock, Lake View, Game Larder, Burley, Early, Green Gables, Melody, Max. A row of servants’ bells in the corridor reveals the more prosaic original room names, “First Floor: No.1 Bedroom, No.1 Dressing Room, No.2 Bedroom, No.2 Dressing Room, Bathroom, No.3 Bedroom, No. 4 Bedroom, No.5 Bedroom, Bathroom, No.6 Bedroom, No.6 Dressing Room, No.7 Bedroom, No.8 Bedroom. Second Floor: No.1 Bedroom, No.2 Bedroom, Bathroom, No.3 Bedroom, No.4 Bedroom, No. 5 Bedroom, No.6 Bedroom, Dark Room, No.7 Bedroom, No.8 Bedroom, Front Door, Luggage Room, Tradesmen.” Windows are open to the sights and sounds of birdlife: cooing pigeons, flying geese, scarpering pheasants.

Beyond the exquisitely manicured formal and semiformal and informal suite of gardens, the former stable block turned spa matches the house in both material (ironstone rubble with ashlar dressings) and style (baroque revival). There’s a named architect and exact construction date: Peter Dollar, 1899. The Oxfordshire born London based architect Peter Dollar is best known for his Majestic Picturedrome on London’s Tottenham Court Road. In contrast to the historicist appearance of Stapleford stable block, the cinema was an Edwardian looking brick and rendered four storey with attics building. Opened in 1912, it was demolished just 65 years later. His fine stable block has fared rather better. The stalls are occupied by beauty treatment salons and are labelled after racehorses: Apple-Jack, Black Beauty, Red Rum and so on. There’s also a thatched roof theme running through the estate secondary buildings from the gatelodge to cottages and contemporary houses for hire.

The parish and estate church, St Mary Magdalene, is an architectural and acoustic marvel. Again there’s a named architect and exact construction date: George Richardson, 1763. Ashlar with ashlar dressings retains the material theme but the style is high Gothick. The architect trained as a draughtsman under James Adam. Across the west end of the nave is the galleried family pew. A chimneypiece kept the chills at bay in winter.

Lord Nelson’s Prayer at Trafalgar dated 21 October 1805 is framed and nailed to a post in the nave: “May the Great God whom I serve grant to my Country, and for the benefit of Europe in general, a great and glorious Victory; and may no misconduct in anyone tarnish it; and may humanity after Victory be the predominant feature in the British Fleet. For myself, individually, I commit my life to Him who made me, and may His blessing light upon my endeavours for serving my Country faithfully. To Him I resign myself and the just case which is entrusted me to defend.” At the afar end of the nave, on the pulpit lectern the Bible lies open at Psalm 23.

It’s a family church. Literally. Or rather families church. Heraldic shields are displayed on the elevations between the windows and buttresses. On the long south facing nave elevation: Cave, Hill, Noel, Verney, Pedley, Faireax, Denton, Calverly, Christopher, Bennet, Bury, Brow, Folville. On the gabled east facing chancel elevation: Branchester, Bruley, Danvers, Bisett, Mosley. On the long north facing nave elevation: Brabazon, Woodfort, Burges, Fitz-Maxilion, Consull, St Hillary, Clare, Lacy, Verdon, Hauberk, Eyton, Melville, Woodville. And on the west facing towered entrance front: Roberts, Hearst, Sherard, Reeve. It is Sherard that takes pride of place: this family owned the estate for half a millennium.

But it is a servant’s gravestone which is positioned closest to the entrance pathway: “Sacred To the Memory of Mary Carnaby who departed this life the 13th Day of January 1799; aged 59 Years. The daughter of Mrs Drake of Woolsthorpe, and Granddaughter of John and Ann Peele of Cockermouth in the County of Cumberland. She was Housekeeper to the Earl of Harborough for 17 years, which employment She discharged with uprightness and fidelity, becoming the imitation of posterity. Earthly Cavern to thy keeping, We commit our Sister’s dust. Keep it safely, softly sleeping, Till our Lord demand thy trust. Erected by her Aunt Tarn of Cockermouth.” Bless Aunt Tarn.

The sense of family intensifies even more in the chancel. Facing each other are impressive monuments. In the northern recess is a memorial to the 1st Earl and Countess of Harborough (in 1719 they were upgraded from 3rd Lord and Lady Sherard by George I) and their young son (all wearing Roman clothing) in white marble by the Flemish born sculptor Michael Rysback in 1732. A Sherard family memorial predating this church occupies the southern recess: effigies of Sir William and Lady Abigail and their 11 children. An even older memorial salvaged from the demolished church on this site is a brass engraving dedicated to Geoffrey and Joan Sherard and their 14 children dated 1490 and set in the nave floor. All three memorials highlight the commonplace nature of the once infant mortality.

The inscription on the plinth of the Harborough memorial reads: “To the Memory of Bennet 1st Earl of Harborough, only surviving son and heir of Bennet Lord Sherard of Stapleford, Baron of Letrim in the Kingdom of Ireland. By Elizabeth daughter and coheir of Sir Robert Christopher of Alford in the County of Lincoln Knight. He married Mary Daughter and Coheir of Sir Henry Calverley of Ariholme in the Bishoprick of Durham Knight. By whom he had issue one son, who died an infant. He was many years to the time of his death Lord Lieutenant and Custos Rotulorum of the County of Rutland, Lord Warden of Justice in Eyre North of Trent. He died the 16th day of October in the year of our Lord 1732, aged 55.”

A plaque on the wall over the Sherard memorial reads: “William Lord Sherard, third Sonne of Francis Sherard Esquire, Had Issue seaven Sonnes, Bennet, Philip, George, Francis, William, Henry, John, foure Daughters, Emelin, Abigail, Anne, Elizabeth, By his Wife Abigail eldest Daughter of Cicil Cave Esquire, third Sonne of Roger Cave of Stanford, in the County of Northampton Esquire. And this hee most affectionately dedicated to his Memory for him, herselfe, and their Children.” Doesn’t “seaven” look better spelt to emphasise it rhymes with “heaven”? Another inscription is set into the plinth below: “Here lies interred the Body of Sir William Sherard, Lord Sherard Baron of Letrime in Ireland, His most singular. Piety, Bounty, Courtesy, Humanity, Hospitality, Charity, Crown’d his mortall life, which (after he had enjoyed LII years) he changed for that which is immortall, the first day of April in the yeare of our Lord God MDCXL. Whose coming he here expectes.” During our stay we come across several spellings of the Irish county of “Leitrim”.

Australian entrepreneur David Fam, CEO of Dreamr Hotels, has owned Stapleford Park since 2022 and is instilling his expertise in “wellness, healing and ancient wisdom” into the hotel. “One can roam all day, constantly finding new works of art and hidden rooms in this labyrinth of style,” wrote Luc Quisenaerts in his guide Hotel Gems in Great Britain and Ireland, 1997. We do, we do. Mary Oliver one final time, “How wonderful that the universe is beautiful in so many places and in so many ways.” We could dwell in this house forever.

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McCausland’s Hotel + Malmaison Hotel Belfast

Intercontinental

Two decades ago Belfast’s first boutique hotel disappeared. McCausland’s – the scene of lively lunches for a few years – may be missed but thankfully from its ashes arose the phoenix that is Malmaison. But hey, halcyon days are back to stay, today’s the future’s heyday. Malmaison’s trademark extensive use of black allows the architecture to speak. And speak it does. Dropping a consonant (remember the amusing Lost Consonants cartoon in the Saturday Guardian when it used to come with a shelf load of supplements?) between editions, the Ulster Architectural Heritage Society published Marcus Patton’s Central Belfast A Historical Gazetteer in 1993 and 22 years later Central Belfast An Historical Gazetteer. Going with the earlier version:

“1867 to 1868 by William Hastings with sculpture by Thomas Fitzpatrick. A pair of four storey stone warehouses built as a pair but with varied detail to suit the two clients: the rival seed merchants John Lytle and Sons and Samuel McCausland. Lytle’s warehouse has a five bay ground floor with arches springing from columns with varied capitals and standing birds at the springing of the arches; a massive rope moulding forms a cil course to the second floor windows, which are grouped as a triple light flanked by duples, with red granite colonettes and freely carved almost Celtic arches and keystones; over the third floor windows, grotesque heads with long tongues form corbels for the cornice brackets which are interspersed with strapwork panels; at the centre of the parapet is a little pediment over a crown and harp (Lytle’s trademark).”

Malmaison is really a pair of semi detached warehouses forming one architectural composition. Looking up from Victoria Street, the lefthand five bays are Lytle’s; the righthand six bays, McCausland’s. Round the corner on Marlborough Street, over a carriageway entrance into Lytle’s warehouse is a carved Chinaman stone head. Complete with coolie hat, drooping moustache and pigtail he is very Fu Manchu. An African stone head rescued from nearby demolished sugar stores forms an unusual talking piece in Malmaison reception.

But it’s McCausland’s warehouse which really goes to town, shouting out its international credentials. Peering over the top of the five ground floor piers along Victoria Street are carved stone heads placed above clusters of fruit and vegetables. They represent the five continents, a conscious and highly visible display linking this business to the great trading houses of the past, demonstrating global trading connections and pride in the Empire. Africa has wavy hair and wears earrings. Asia is turbaned. Oceania is the only female. Europe is whiskered. America wears a feathered headdress.

For two decades before McCausland’s Hotel opened, Belfast’s loudest façade almost disappeared. It was blighted as part of one of the city’s many unexecuted 20th century road widening schemes.

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Luminair Bar Double Tree by Hilton Amsterdam +

Leef Met Je Kop Omhoog

We’re knocking it out of the park with Our Tribe. Here comes Missy ridin’ that train. Such a doll. Fancy illuminating Luminair? There’ll be a bit of sport on the cards with that offer. Multiplicity for the multihyphenates. Now we’re talking. Sometimes The Weekend really is plain sailing. We’re off to the boat races.

Soon, it will all seem so long ago.

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Moville Donegal +

Mary and Music in May

The Ordnance Survey Memoirs of Ireland: Parishes of County Donegal I 1833 to 1835 record, “Principal market town: the town of Bonyfoble or Moville is situated in the townland of Ballynelly. It has a market on a Thursday, chiefly for grain and potatoes, being otherwise but badly supplied. The market place is a square space walled in with lean-to open sheds on two sides and a thoroughfare opening on the road. The shops are small and bad and few of any sort. The town is nearly new and is becoming more important every year as a bathing place for the wealthier inhabitants of Derry, who resort to it during the summer months.” Moville continues to be popular as a seaside resort.

Father Eddie Gallagher, Parish Priest of St Pius X Church in the heart of the town, explains, “The tradition of dedicating the month of May to Mary came about in the 13th century. Some say it was created to replace various pagan cults. The actual reason is that this month is the time when spring is at the height of its beauty. Spring is also connected with nature renewing itself. In her way, Mary gave new life to the world when she gave birth to our saviour Jesus Christ.”

The church is an unusual building balancing its design between historicist and modernist. This landmark was the last work by the illustrious Derry City architect William O’Doherty. The severe windowless modernist monochromatic entrance front is clad in rock faced ashlar granite and randomly coursed rubblestone masonry with concrete quoins and a granite cross. The other elevations are finished in roughcast render. The large side elevation transom and mullion windows are loosely Elizabethan; the rear elevation sash windows are loosely Georgian. The dodecagonal copper clad timber lined roof lantern over the balcony seating is vaguely Victorian. A sycamore St Pius statue greets worshippers in the entrance lobby. Beyond, a Turkish delight rose and lemon hued floral arrangement in front of the altar matches the double height stained glass windows.

A few doors down from St Pius X Church is The Cosy Cottage which gets its name from a garden mural rather than the building itself. It’s a ground floor café with five guest rooms on the upper two floors of a three bay three storey gaily painted townhouse typical of the town. Owners Declan and Sadie Carey relate, “We first opened The Cosy Cottage as a café in 2003 and built up the business to add bed and breakfast and self catering accommodation just 10 years later. Friendly, welcoming, helpful and with everything from food and accommodation to adventure and exploration, that’s The Cost Cottage.” Old postcards show how little Moville has changed since Victorian times.

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Architecture Design Fashion Hotels Luxury

Dress + Stair

A Flirtation with the Baroque

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Lord George Augustus Hill + Bunbeg Harbour Donegal

Catsup and Waistcoatings

Salmon leap where the River Clady flows into the Atlantic Ocean. It’s early evening in Ireland’s smallest harbour and the last of the fishermen are tying up their boats. Up on the high street, Milky Chance’s Living in A Haze is blasting from Caife Kitty’s just before closing. A winding lane connects the harbour up to the village. At the village end of the lane past the hilltop lookout tower there’s a petite Anglican church and hall on one side and a cemetery on the other. Alastair Rowan writes in his 1979 Buildings of North West Ulster, “Gweedore Parish Church: tiny tower and hall built as a dual purpose church and school in 1844. Restored as a church only in 1914, when the tower was added. Miniature two light Tudor windows in wood.” The standalone hall was built at the same time as the church restoration.

Séamus and Ann Kennedy run The Clady bed and breakfast. Like most of the buildings at the harbour, it was erected by Lord George Augustus Hill. This Anglo Irish landlord gets a mixed reception from locals to this day, from educating the populace to ripping them off with rent hikes. The Clady was the manager’s house of the adjoining store. Seamus’ family once owned the whole block. The store was sold to a hotel developer last century but nothing came of it. The grain store opposite is also a bed and breakfast. So are the former soldiers’ cottagey quarters. Another lookout tower on top of a hill overlooking the harbour has been extended to form a new house. Harry Percival Swan writes in Romantic Stories and Legends of Donegal, 1965, “’World’s smallest harbour’: this claim has been made for the small harbour of Sark, Channel Islands. But Bunbeg Harbour, Gweedore, is a toy by comparison.”

Lord Hill published a didactic travel guide in 1846: Facts from Gweedore with Useful Hints to Donegal Tourists. It contains a wealth of detail – his Lordship did the granular. “In the year 1838, and subsequently, Lord George Augustus Hill purchased small properties, situated at Gweedore, in the parish of Tullaghobegly, County Donegal, which in aggregate amounted to upwards of 23,000 acres; the number of inhabitants therein being about 3,000; nearly 700 of whom paid rent. The district extends for some miles along the northwest coast or corner of Ireland, and the scenery is of the very wildest description; the Atlantic dashing along those shores in all its magnificent freshness, whilst the harsh screeching of the sea fowl is its continual and suitable accompaniment. The coast is studded with numerous little islands, and when the ocean is up, or ruffled, it may be seen striking against opposing headlands or precipitous cliffs, with a force and effect that is grand beyond description; the waves forming into a column of foam, which is driven to immense height, and remaining visible for many seconds, until the feathered spray becomes gracefully and gradually dispersed.”

“It is now 15 years since Lord George Hill commenced the attempt to ameliorate the condition of the people of the Gweedore district; during which period he has been on the most friendly terms with them; and although the changes made upset all their ancient ways of dealing in, and parcelling out, land, they seemed, very early in the transaction, to have understood that Lord George’s object throughout, was to endeavour to put them in a way of doing better for themselves, and not with a view of taking their land from them, or driving them out of their own country. These innovations, however, alarmed the neighbourhood, and an appeal was made by a tenant to his landlord, ‘Not to bother his tenants as Lord George Hill had done!’”

“The land is never let, sold, or devised by the acre, but by a ‘cow’s grass’. This is a complement of land well understood by the people, being in fact the general standard; and they judge of the dimensions of a holding by its being to the extent, as the case may be, of one, two, or three cow’s grass, although a cow’s grass, as it varies according to the quality of the land, comprises for this reason, a rather indefinite quantity. Thus the townlands are all divided into so many cow’s grass, which of course have been cut up ad infinitum.”

“In 1839, a corn store, 84 feet long by 22 feet wide, having three lofts and a kiln, was built at the port of Bunbeg, capable of containing three or four tons of oats. A quay was formed in front of the store, at which vessels of 200 tons can load or discharge, there being 16 feet of water at the height of the tide. A market was thus established for the grain of the district, the price given for it being much the same as at Letterkenny, six and 20 miles distant. There was much difficulty in getting this store built; even the site of it had to be excavated, by blasting from the solid rock, and there were no masons or carpenters in the country capable of erecting a building of the kind.”

“Lord George Augustus Hill’s store, Bunbeg, Gweedore, is now supplied with the following articles for sale at very reasonable prices: ironmongery, drugs, groceries etc. Awl blades. Beams. Bellows. Bridles. Brushes. Candlesticks. Canvas for sails. Cart chains. Combs of every kind. Delft of all description viz cups and saucers, jugs and mugs, basins, dishes, plates, pots and pans. Files of every kind. Fishing hooks. Fishing lines. Funnels. Glass viz window, looking glasses, bottles. Heel ball. Hemp. Hinges. Iron viz horse shoes, nail rod, hoop, pots and pans, kettles, saucepans. Italian irons. Knitting needles. Knives viz dinner, pocket. Leather of all kinds. Locks of all kinds. Nails of all kinds. Oakum. Plaster of Paris. Pickles. Raisins. Rice. Rhubarb. Redwood. Rotten stone. Resin. Slates in variety. Sugar viz moist, loaf, candy, barley. Molasses. Manna. Nutmeg. Oils viz boiled, raw, sperm, castor. Ointment. Paints viz black, white, green, red. Pitch. Pepper viz cayenne, black, white. Plasters viz blistering, adhesive, diachylon, cantharides. Salt. Saltpetre. Senna. Shumac. Spermaceti. Spirits of hartshorn. Spirits of turpentine. Sulphur. Tar. Teas viz bohea, congou, hyson. Treacle. Turmeric. Umber. Varnish. Vinegar. Whiting. Barley. Scotch. Biscuits. Coffee. Flour viz American, Sligo. Split peas. Bath brick. Blacking. Blue stone. Candles. Congreve matches. Soap. Soda. Starch. Mustard. Tobacco of all kinds. Tobacco pipes. Servant’s friend. Account books. Children’s books. India rubber. Ink. Lead pencils. Sealing wax. Writing paper. Wafers. Reaping hooks. Ropes, new and old. Sandpaper. Shoes. Shoe heels. Shoe hairs. Shovels and spades. Shot. Spouting. Timber. Wheelbarrows. Allspice. Alum. Arrow root. Bitter aloes. Brimstone. Camphor. Carraway seeds. Cassia liquor. Catsup. Cinnamon. Cloves. Comfits. Copperas. Cream of tartar. Epsom salts. Fuller’s Earth. Fustic. Ginger. Glue. Indigo. Madder. Lozenges viz peppermint, cinnamon. Liquorice. Logwood. Blacklead. Lampblack. Lint. Meal. Woollen and drapery goods viz rugs, quilts, sheets, drawers, flannels. Calicos plain and printed. Moleskins. Fustians. Cords. Chambray. Checks. Shirting. Merinos. Orleans cloth. Jeans. Handkerchiefs. Muslins. Shawls. Laces. Ribbons. Hats. Caps. Pilot cloths. Waistcoatings. Stocks. Unions. Cravats. Bodkins. Tapes. Threads. Pins and needles. Cottons. Buttons. Twist. Sewing silk. Spools. Pipings. Stay laces. Scissors. Thimbles. Knives.”

On a wall in the staircase lobby of The Clady is a framed 2018 article from The Guardian newspaper by the late great journalist Henry McDonald. “Mornings in Donegal can be so beautiful they take the breath away. National Geographic Traveller concluded at the start of December that Donegal was the ‘coolest place on the planet’ to visit. The magazine predicted big things for a county often overshadowed by better known counties such as Kerry, and cities such as Dublin. 10 miles west of Killybegs – on the Wild Atlantic Way, a coastal strip that runs for 1,600 miles along Ireland’s western seaboard – the narrow coast road passes homes where sheep wander into front gardens. There are stunning vistas of rugged, bucolic coastal inlets. In the 6th century, Irish monks sailed from here to take Christianity to Iceland.” Donegal continues to inspire writers down the ages. And disco boys too.

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Architecture Design Hotels

Bunbeg Beach Donegal + Sunset

The End of Day at Magheraclogher Bay

Thinker John Mack begs this question: “One may enjoy the beach from one of three positions: feet dry on the shore, where one observes the ocean’s current; standing in the water, where one feels the current’s tug; floating in the water, where one is oblivious to the current. Given today’s currents, where might you be positioned with regard to see level?” Overlooked by a deserted hotel, the wreckage of a boat on the neverending golden strand of Bunbeg is like a beached whale carcass one moment, a drowned one the next. Fast waters. The sea level is deep. So is the Mackian see level. Soon it will be time to meet on that beautiful shore.

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Perambulation + Rocksalt Restaurant Folkestone Kent

Sans Sourcil

It all started with St Eanswythe, daughter of Eadbald King of Kent, founding a nunnery on the white cliffs headland in the second half of the 7th century. Folkstone was granted a Charter of Incorporation in 1313 although it was never one of the Cinque Ports of the south coast. This is a potted history and random tour of the town informed by the perambulation down from Folkestone West railway station to Rocksalt restaurant overlooking the harbour for lunch, taking in the air and the sights and the food and the wine. Pevsner Guide in hand. Salty samphire and seaweed butter to come.

The Parish Church is dedicated to two female saints: St Mary and St Eanswythe. This millennium old place of worship forms a focal point for the old town and adjoining artists’ quarter slipping down to the sea. The hidden relics of St Eanswythe were discovered in 1885 when masons were preparing the sanctuary wall for alabaster arcading. The Prayer for the Feast Day of the saintly princess is, “Almighty God, the source of all holiness and the author of all charity; grant that we may so follow the footsteps of blessed Eanswythe, our patron; that encouraged by her example and strengthened by her prayers we may ever show forth the same spirit of holiness and love, and walk before you as children of light; through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Rendezvous Street is a nod across the Channel although being Franglais doesn’t go the whole hog, not le cochon entier, like say Sans Souci Park in Belfast.

In Kent North East and East Pevsner Architecture Guide, 2013, John Newman uses the adjective “handsome” a lot to describe the stuccoed delights that grace this overwhelmingly Victorian resort, especially The Leas, and with good reason. Like most seaside resorts, it was the arrival of the railway heralded Folkestone’s expansion. South Eastern Railway’s main line from London to Dover, engineered by William Cubitt, reached the town in 1843. The following decade the Earl of Radnor developed his Folkestone Estate, employing architect Sidney Smirke.

Stucco gave way to greyish yellow brick. High on the hillside overlooking the decks of Hotel Grand Burstin is a force of late Victoriana, its architecture as commanding as its view. A metal sign on the garden gate states: “Dominating the view of The Bayle from the harbour is a large building known as Shangri La. It is at the southern end of a rather fine terrace replacing an earlier building on the site known as Bellevue House. The terrace was constructed in 1894 by Mr Hoad, a local builder of some renown, who died in 1901. It is believed by some that the building was a German Consulate used by spies during World War I to send signals to enemy ships. One of the reasons put forward to support this is a ‘German Eagle’ can be seen under the upper windows: it is in fact a griffin. The gables of the rest of the terrace are adorned with various sea monsters.” A central tower on the seaside elevation is glazed on all sides and capped with an ogee shaped copper roof. The street facing gable of Shangri La is painted white; its neighbour’s has been painted an alarming shade of blue that manages to clash with the sky whatever the weather.

Greyish yellow brick gave way to yellowy grey brick. Chamberlin, Powell and Bon’s modernist intervention contrasts with its neoclassical neighbours in The Leas. The Welfare Insurance Building, completed in 1972, is now apartments. Its bow ended windowless tower is a soaring example of coastal brutalism while the attached tiers of cascading apartments resemble The Brunswick Centre in Bloomsbury, London, designed by Patrick Hodgkinson a decade earlier.

Yellowy grey brick gave way to render. Messrs Burstin and Bacon have a lot to answer for in the eyes of some connoisseurs of style. Grand Hotel Burstin isn’t bursting with everyone’s taste. It replaced the 230 bedroom multi turreted Royal Pavilion Hotel with a whopping 500 bedroom 14 storey building designed to resemble a stranded ocean liner or at least one that has crashed onto dry land. The Folkestone Herald recorded on 19 January 1980, “John Gluntz, Deputy Controller of Shepway District Council`s Technical and Planning Services Department, said the Council has no details of Mr Burstin`s plans. ‘We`re glad to see the Royal Pavilion go down, but we would be interested to see his ideas for development.’” No doubt Mr Gluntz was interested to see Mr Bustin’s architect Mr Bacon’s ideas for development. The Grand Hotel Burstin is many things to many people but subtle to none. In place of “handsome” Pevsner calls it “crude and silly”.

Render gives way to glass. A curved transparent wall allows a full view of the harbour from the lunch table in Rocksalt restaurant.

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John Mack + Rosewood Hotel Holborn London

Great Minds

Pre drinks and a lunch for 12 guests were held in the private dining suite of Rosewood Hotel to welcome New Yorker John Mack to London. The thinker, author, artist and founder of non profit Life Calling, whose mission is to preserve our humanity in the Digital Age, was representing the US at the London Design Biennale. The august yet entertaining company at pre drinks and lunch included the CEO of a film studio, an international artist, a King’s College London professor, and newspaper and magazine editors, to not name a few. Between the synchronised silver service of coordinated cloche lifting, John related to us,

“Change is going to come down to the individual level. Period. A free country begins from within. Artificial Intelligence is going to exploit the vacancy of the mind. But I see a lot of hope – a bot cannot describe an essence. The war within is the only war. Involvement in external conflict is but a distraction from this fact. As in any struggle that concerns one’s freedom, there’s an enemy and a saviour. As potential, you are both. Until we start embracing the algorithm of the mind we will not land on the right plot for life. I’m excited to be alive right now!”

John’s 2023 book Notes to Psyche has lots of points to ponder: “We must question ourselves without doubting ourselves. The former preserves vitality, the latter kills it.” Followed by, “Intellect cannot see eternity, it can only think about it. Science is blind.” Two thoughts on never being bored or boring: “Boredom is a matter of life or death. Imagine lying on your deathbed and gazing for the last time at the world around you. Go ahead, give it one final look – make it real. Now ask yourself: was there ever such thing as boredom, or was it merely a forgetting of life’s brevity?” And, “Boredom, at its core, is the absence of gratitude.”

Our host Sir Nicholas Lloyd concluded, “You’ve truly opened our minds.” Gratitude was not lacking; boredom was absent at lunch. And with that, John Mack departed for No.10 Downing Street.