Given that it’s been thirty years since I decided to hang up my gardening tools and allocate the time saved to other pursuits, how is it that I presently find myself responsible – albeit temporarily – for a large vegetable patch? The answer is that we are dog-sitting at the house of close relatives and, though the doggy duties are light (she being old and sweet-tempered) their garden is large and, as it hasn’t rained for some weeks, their vegetable harvest is at risk of withering – an outcome that would sit heavily upon the conscience of even the most determined ex-gardener. Nor does it end there. One also feels duty-bound to eat as much as one can of the of the produce ripening by the hour, so a lot of time is spent harvesting, looking up recipes, cooking ‘from scratch’ and – as a last resort – freezing the excess.
Yesterday,
however, was a rainy day, so I left nature to its own devices and escaped to
visit a couple of nearby National Trust houses, former country retreats of
wealthy DFLs (down from Londoners). At these places, you can learn a lot about
the history of people and places, or, to put it in less lofty terms, indulge
yourself in an hour or two of being nosey.
Firstly, I
went to Greenway, a plain-looking Georgian mansion set in 36 lush acres on the steep
banks of the river Dart. In 1930, Agatha Christie, then newly married to
archaeologist Sir Max Mallowan, bought it as a holiday home. It remained in the
family until it was taken on by the National Trust, which is why it still contains
so much of the family’s stuff – a jumble of furniture and an accumulation of unremarkable
bric-a-brac – as well as some of the celebrated author’s literary works and
memorabilia. It is said that Agatha was a modest person, a claim lent substance
by the fact that her Dame of the British Empire regalia was found in the back
of a cupboard full of decorative pottery. It is now displayed at the front, in
its original box and with the instructions for how and when it should be worn.
Agatha lived
her professional life in London but was born and raised in nearby Torquay, so
she would have known that this part of Devon is coveted as a holiday retreat.
Ten years prior to her buying Greenway, another couple of DFLs, Rupert and Lady
Dorothy D’Oyly Carte, were sailing in their yacht off the coast nearby when
they spotted a picturesque valley leading down to a secluded cove and
determined to buy it and establish their own country house there. By 1926 they
were ensconced in Coleton Fishacre, an Arts and Crafts style house designed for
them by Oswald Milne, former assistant to Edwin Lutyens. Unlike Greenway, the
house was built with stone quarried on site, positioned discreetly in the
landscape and fitted out internally by the architect so as to present a
cohesive style throughout. For those curious to know, Rupert’s fortune came
from the businesses his father founded – the eponymous opera company and a
string of luxury hotels – so he knew a thing or two about stylish interior
design.
Since they
were neighbours, I like to imagine both sets of DFLs mingled socially, with
Agatha taking notes, discreetly, on Coleton Fishacre and the doings of its
occupants for use later in a murder mystery (A Stylish Summer Ending?). But apart
from summers spent relishing their extensive acreage of gardens and woodlands, I
suspect they had little in common.
Had the weather been more accommodating and I had been with a companion so inclined; I might have spent some time admiring those acres. But I’d had enough of gardens for the time being and was grateful, in more ways than one, for a rainy day.