Something they have all over the place in Europe are preserved “country houses,” sometimes with beautiful gardens. There aren’t many of these in the States, Castle Hill is the nearest we get in the Boston area, though this is put to shame by some places in Europe. SarahE and I really wanted to go see one, especially because that would mean a non-challenging walking day, and May should be a great time of year.
SarahP and Jim were scheduled to play tennis that morning, but the courts were being cleaned and so that was called off. They thought going to a country estate was a good idea though, and we considered a few. They are National Trust members and had a great guidebook that we consulted, and we settled on the Blickling Estate.
Had another excellent breakfast that sunny morning, and then headed East on the A1065 to Fakenham, and then onto the A148, passing Little Snoring and Great Snoring, to the B1354 through Briston, and eventually to Blickling Road.
Another pretty full car park, though many of the people were there just to walk the extensive trail network around the 4600 acres of the grounds. We paid our entry fees (the lady asked if I was from Holland), and then strolled down the path past the local, to the grand entrance to the estate. The house itself was not yet open for the day, but we were fine with passing through an atrium out to the formal garden, which is 55 acres itself.
The gardens are impressive, and they’re maintained in great shape. I couldn’t believe how close they mow some lawns in England, while keeping the grass healthy. And the massive rows of yew bushes were trimmed exactly. We just skimmed some verbose interpretive signs (they were filthy rich and had nothing better to do than boss gardeners around and insist that their gardens be au courant, on the few occasions that they left the city for their country house), wandered past some lovely beds of roses and peonies in the Parterre, and then up the winding path to the Temple. They had some exotic Atlas cedars and redwoods there, like the ones we’d seen in Kew the other day. They also had plenty of English oaks.
We walked back up to the huge house from the gardens, and around the back of the house to the walled garden, which we found even more impressive. They grow a large amount of vegetables there, possibly enough to feed a hungry group of aristocrats. But the most amazing thing is their collection of fruit trees, many varieties of apples, pears, and cherries, which are all pruned and trained to form trellises over the pathways. And fully half of the walled garden is not planted at this time. I said hi to a gardener, whom we’d run into again later.
OK, time for the house! It’s got a grand entrance, a portcullis, and then a dark and spooky entrance hall. The National Trust really does a great job, we’d seen several of their properties before, and they had an extensive staff of very knowledgeable docents and thorough documentation in each room, many of which were remarkably restored and filled with period furniture. The Hall was built in 1616 and the history of the estate is actually kind of interesting. The money that was poured into it sure must have supported a lot of people and continues to do so through the aegis of the National Trust.
This was a more interesting tour than I’d anticipated. They have restored some of the kitchens and bedrooms (with hidden en suite bathrooms) to how they were when the house was last active, between the wars. And some of the massive parlors and dining rooms date to the Tudor period. Details such as the English oak paneling and trim, the original or restored wood floors and tapestries, the paintings, and the grand halls are really worth seeing. I kept on struggling with trying to imagine how it must have been to live or visit there but could not.
The most impressive of all the huge rooms is the well-lit library, which is filled with 14,000 volumes, “one of the most historically significant collections of manuscripts and books in England.” Maintenance of the collection is ongoing, and a team of book restorers were working in the library at the time.
Wow, enough of that! I for one found the house fascinating but was ready to get outside at last. We’d all wondered about the weathervane on the main house, and I found out from the docents that it was meant to be a bull, like many of the emblems we’d seen on the walls inside. The ancestors of Anne Boleyn (which name derives from “bull” (or vice versa)) had owned the estate before the Hall was built, and when the nouveau riche Hobarth family took it over they wanted to show off the heritage of the wife of the king, thus the bulls.
What to do about lunch? They had two cafés, and a pub in the middle (the local we’d passed earlier). Jim, SarahE, and I lounged at a picnic table outside the Bucks Arms with drinks, while SarahP detoured back to the car for a change of clothes. We then went back to the front entrance of the estate for lunch in the Stables café. Pleasant lunch, but wouldn’t you think that a “sausage roll” would have a sausage in it instead of being just pastry flavored like a sausage?
We wanted to check out some of the walks in the lovely grounds of the estate. It was a great day for a walk, and we set off over the fields and into the woods. We found a 600-year-old lime tree, but we got a little lost. We thought we were on a path that would lead us to the Mausoleum, but the path dead-ended in what was apparently a foresters’ work area. We bush-whacked a bit and could see the right path, and a guy on the path ended up shouting directions to us as to how to get back to it (I picked up a few nettles in doing so). It turned out that he was the same gardener I’d exchanged pleasantries with earlier. He volunteers in the garden and often walks the paths with his wife and dog, who were both very polite as well. Anyway, saw the Mausoleum (it was not that impressive) and then wound our way back to the car park.
OK, we were toast and ready to hit the road back. SarahP and Jim were anxious to stop at the Fakenham Garden Centre though, and SarahE and I wandered around there while they grilled an employee about vegetables. The garden center carried the same line of battery-operated garden tools that I use, but we didn’t buy any.
The really fun thing about the garden center was the three-wheeled sports car we saw in the car park when we got back outside. Two ladies with helmets (this must have been the Fakenham edition of Top Gear) came out, gracefully consented to us taking pictures, and drove off.
Finally back to the house after an adventurous excursion, and some of the new vegetable plants got planted while some of us recovered. SarahP and Jim cooked us dinner, and then it was time for more Cabo and bed.
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