217. Springhill – 11/5/2024

A visit to Springhill is yet another of the Northern Irish experiences that requires some planning as it is only open at weekends. Again, access to the house is by guided tour only, but as I have mentioned before this week, that is not a bad thing as more information is available from an enthusiastic volunteer or staff member than you might have picked up from display boards. Or, indeed, from a guidebook, had such a thing been available, which needless to say it was not. In fact, on this occasion, when I asked about a guidebook, it seemed as if the staff had never even heard of such a thing, let alone known whether there were any available. Maybe the final years of my challenge have come at the right time, as a printed guide may well be a museum piece by the end of the decade.

Back to Springhill though. This is described as a quintessential Ulster gentleman’s house, which was home to ten generations of the same family for over 300 years. The land – which originally formed part of the Glenconkeyne Forest – was bought by William Conyngham in 1657 when James I was encouraging the settlement of influential people in the ‘plantations’ of Northern Ireland. The house that we see today was first built between the 1680s and 1700 by William’s son, Colonel William Conyngham (there were a lot of Williams and a lot of Colonels in the line), who was known as ‘Good Will’. He had asked for the hand of Ann Upton in marriage and told her father what kind of house he was going to provide for his bride. True to his commitment, he went ahead with the construction of a pretty, two-storey house with outbuildings and gardens. This was in the reign of William and Mary so there is a Dutch influence in the two flanking pavilions and the Dutch garden.

The Drawing Room

Moving on around 70 years, the fourth owner, another Colonel William Conyngham, returned from fighting in the Seven Years’ War in Europe and, after marrying a wealthy widow, decided to posh up his house. He added the two half-octagon fronted wings, with nurseries in the east and a grander dining room to the west. It was also during this time that the hand-painted wallpaper still to be seen in the Gun Room was added. This was covered over behind panelling for many years, which has helped it survive the 250 years since first being hung. Further expansions to the rear of the house in the 19^th century saw the dining room move to the back of the property, while the front room in the west wing became a drawing room.

There were many family stories imparted on our tour, including the requisite ghost story. This relates to George Lenox-Conyngham, the 5^th owner, who struggled with depression and committed suicide in the blue bedroom in 1816. His second wife, Olivia, is said to roam the halls of the house bemoaning the loss of her husband, although there are other stories that suggest she may have sneaked into the room through the servants’ door and shot him herself. Whether her bemoaning is guilt or sorrow, there have supposedly been many sightings. Other family stories were told about 6^th owner William ‘Wim’ Lenox-Conyngham, whose wife Charlotte Staples was seemingly a book lover and greatly expanded a library that was already home to such ancient works as a 1533 book of psalms.

I have missed a lot of owners and no doubt a lot of stories in this brief report, but I was trying to jot down notes as we went, and our guide Shelagh crammed a lot in, so much so that my shorthand just wasn’t up to the job. I also feel a little self-conscious writing down what someone is telling me. So, you’ll all just have to visit for yourselves and get it all firsthand.

There is one more owner that is well worth mentioning, however, and that is Mina Lowry, who married the 9^th owner Colonel William Arbuthnot Lenox-Conyngham in 1899 and moved into the house in 1906. She was a musician, composer and writer, and her book ‘An Old Ulster House’ gives a more detailed history of the house and family at Springhill. I wonder why the Trust has not managed to acquire the rights to this book so it can be published and sold to visitors as I would have been interested to read it. Sadly, though, it sounds as if it is now very hard to find a printed copy. Mina was the last of the family to live in the house. Her son handed the property to the National Trust in 1957 but Mina stayed until her death at the age of 94 in 1961.

There is quite a lot to see in the house at Springhill and this is largely due to Mina, who made sure that family belongings and heirlooms were preserved. In fact, over 90% of the house’s contents are original to the family. The tour takes in the hall, gun room, library, drawing room, dining room, staircase and two bedrooms, and although nothing is overly dramatic or flamboyant, it is still a nice house and has a homely feel. If it wasn’t for the pesky Olivia haunting the upstairs landing, it would be a lovely house to live in.

NB: In one of the outbuildings, there is a small costume museum, which fashion and clothing enthusiasts may like to look at. I thought the dress embellished with straw was particularly interesting as the straw ‘thread’ glints in the light and looks like gold ribbon. Ingenious economy!

Highlights: Family and ghost stories

Refreshments: None

Purchase(s): None

Companion(s): Phil & Sarah

216. Wellbrook Beetling Mill – 11/5/2024

I have had to cheat with this visit as the NT opening times in Northern Ireland have caught me out at last. I have felt during my travels here that the Trust is struggling more in this region than in other parts of England and Wales. Perhaps there are fewer members using the service regularly in Northern Ireland? Or perhaps tourism levels are lower than elsewhere. Certainly, there are one or two flagship properties with every day opening, i.e. the Giant’s Causeway (where it seems Trust members are in the minority among visitors) and Mount Stewart, but even Castle Ward is closed two days a week and can only be accessed by guided tours on week days with free-flow limited to weekends.

As far as the Wellbrook Beetling Mill is concerned, it is only open in July and August for guided tours at weekends, and I could not rearrange the entire holiday to come later in the year. I approached the local Trust office in the hope that someone would be able to come and show us around at the very least, but staffing and volunteer numbers are clearly very low, and no one was available. As a result, I had to make do with a short stop to take a photo of the Mill and a read of the online information, so I am afraid I can share no new insights or interesting snippets with you.

Rather than re-hashing the entire section of the NT website dedicated to the Mill, I will simply give the top-line facts. Perhaps the biggest question someone might have is: ‘what the heck is beetling’? In short, this is the final process of linen production, when the finished cloth is beaten by wooden hammers called beetles, tightening the weave and giving the material its sheen. At Wellbrook – the last working water-powered beetling mill – the ‘beetles’ are powered by water from the Ballinderry River.

The mill originally opened in 1764 as a linen bleaching works but was replaced in the 1830s by the current beetling mill. Its heyday came in the mid-19^th century when the linen industry in Northern Ireland was booming and there was a significant export market in New Zealand and Australia. During the First World War, the mill also produced linen for the war effort. Sadly, the industry declined in the 20^th century with competition from cheaper materials, and the Wellbrook mill closed in 1961. The National Trust took it over in 1967 and extensive restoration work was undertaken before it was opened to the public in 1970. It would have been good to see the mill in action, but at least we had one full mill experience this week at Patterson’s.

Highlights: None

Refreshments: None

Purchase(s): None

Companion(s): Phil & Sarah

215. Castle Ward – 10/5/2024

Castle Ward is a house full of surprises, from blended architectural styles to boxing squirrels(!). Perhaps the least surprising thing is that, once again, there is no guidebook available at present, so I have had to cobble my information together from various sources. The most important source was our guide, Louise, who gave us plenty of insights and stories during our very personal guided tour (not the first time this week, we were the only people in our time slot).

Mismatched doors

If you had not already heard the tale of Bernard and Anne Ward and their very different views on architecture, the biggest surprise at Castle Ward can be had simply by walking around the outside of the building. On the main approach, you are confronted with a classical Georgian property, complete with columns and urns, but if you make your way to the back, with its stunning views down to Strangford Lough, you will find a Georgian Gothic façade. This blending of architectural styles continues inside the house, with Bernard’s rooms full of classical plasterwork touches, while Anne’s half has Gothic arched doors and, in the Boudoir, a ‘marmite’ swathed ceiling designed to resemble an Arabian tent. Poet, John Betjeman, was said to have compared this to a cow’s udders, but whether you like it or hate it (I tend to like it), we can all agree it’s unique. The architectural split is most pronounced in the ballroom as it is here that the two styles more directly clash – if one opens Anne’s Gothic arched door to go through to the Hall, there is a space and then Bernard’s door behind it, this one with a traditional rectangular shape and squared-off top.

Bernard’s classical Hall

Although several generations of Wards had lived here before Bernard and Anne, their house was built in the 1760s and was the last big change to the property, so their vision remains to this day. When I first heard about the unusual half-and-half nature of this property, I felt that Anne must have been a formidable woman to have insisted on her own tastes, at least in part. It seems that she came from money, though, so clearly this helped her case when it came to getting her own way. Anne is, in fact, one of the mysteries of Castle Ward as relatively little is known about her and she left Bernard not long after the house was completed, disappearing to possibly Dublin and then beyond. The couple were clearly a mismatch from day one. There were rumours of Anne’s prior relationship with another woman, and as our guide pointed out, Bernard was no great shakes, at least as far as we can tell from his portrait. Poor abandoned Bernard was created 1^st Viscount Bangor in 1768 but lived only one year to appreciate his entitlement.

Anne’s Boudoir

The 2^nd Viscount was Nicholas, Bernard and Anne’s oldest son, but he was later designated a ‘lunatic’ under the mental health classification of the time. He was not really up to maintaining a large property and many of his siblings used the opportunity to pilfer items from the house, so it went into a decline during his tenure. Edward, a nephew of Nicholas, became the 3^rd Viscount and he and his wife Harriet began to rejuvenate the house and contents. When Edward died in 1838, Harriet remarried, combining her property with that of a local landowner from across the water in Portaferry, and together they continued the refurbishments and brought Bernard and Anne’s Castle Ward back to life.

Several other notable Wards were also introduced to us during our tour. Mary, the wife of the 5^th Viscount, Henry, never made Castle Ward her home but was a regular visitor and is remembered in one of the bedrooms. She was an artist and writer and also defied the gender bias of the time by making her mark in the worlds of science and astronomy. Her microscope is exhibited in her room, but she was just as interested in large as well as small things, and we were told that she was even invited to the Royal Observatory at Greenwich to share some of her astronomical research, something that would have been unheard of for a woman at the time. Mary died tragically young: she was being driven in an early prototype of a steam-driven car but was thrown out and run over. Her death is recorded as the first ever vehicle fatality in Ireland, which is perhaps not the claim to fame she would have wished for but is still ironically in keeping with Mary’s nature as a pioneer.

Mary tends to overshadow her husband, Henry, but when you reach the study, you will find several of Henry’s prized belongings. This brings us back to surprises as the first thing you will notice in the study is a stuffed grizzly bear holding a drinks tray. Henry was keen on taxidermy, and when asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage, he said he would grant it if the suitor’s father gave him his stuffed bear. And so the marriage swap was done – the daughter got her husband and Henry got Bertha the Bear. Next to Bertha is a cabinet containing the aforementioned boxing squirrels. This kind of thing is certainly not to my taste, but it is an oddity nonetheless, with each ‘scene’ showing the progression of the squirrels’ scrap until one of them is knocked out for the count.

View from the house

Although some of Henry’s belongings can be seen in the study, it is actually laid out as it would have been in the time of Maxwell Ward, the 6^th Viscount Bangor, complete with his books, his golf clubs and his sailing cap. He was the last of the family to live permanently at Castle Ward and, on his death, he was ‘buried at sea’ in his beloved Strangford Lough. His own son, Edward, who had been a celebrated foreign correspondent for the BBC, was settled in London when he inherited the title and he could not afford the death duties so he made a deal to transfer the house to the state as payment and it was handed to the National Trust in 1952.

Other surprises to look out for in the house include the copy of the Mona Lisa lurking among the family portraits (that made me do a rapid double-take) and the fire grate in the Viscount’s bedroom, which is in a tube and can be pulled out into the room and swivelled to face a specific direction wherever the heat was wanted most. Perhaps not the safest invention, but ingenious nevertheless.

Lough-side views of Portaferry

After our tour of the house (and a bite to eat), we took a look at the pretty Sunken Garden, picked up a few books from the secondhand bookshop, and then moved the car from the house car park to the trails car park. From there, we followed one of several walking routes and went for a stroll along the shores of Strangford Lough, through the woods and back along the Templewater, a manmade lake, which predates Bernard and Anne, and has a classical temple on the hill above. The lough walk was particularly pretty, including views of Castle Ward itself, an old boat house and Audley’s Castle ruin on top of a gorse-covered tor. We also spotted a lone seal hauled out on a sandbank in the lough and watched the Portaferry to Strangford ferry plying its trade backwards and forwards. When we got back to the trail head, we found ourselves in the Old Castle Ward area, which is now known as Winterfell having stood in for that fictional castle in the Game of Thrones television series. Cycle tours of the main GoT locations are available from here. We also saw the corn mill, which had featured earlier in our week when the millers at Patterson’s Spade Mill told us they had refurbished its machinery.

And then it was off to Downpatrick races for the evening, where there was a further surprise awaiting us, but that’s another story for another time and place.

Highlights: The half-and-half architecture; the lough views; family  

Refreshments: Tuna melt

Purchase(s): Birthday cards; postcard; two secondhand books (‘The Enigma of Room 622’ by Joel Dicker and ‘The Lincoln Highway’ by Amor Towles)

Companion(s): Phil & Sarah

Connections: The millers at Patterson’s Spade Mill had refurbished the corn mill at Castle Ward

214. Giant’s Causeway – 7/5/2024

After our visit to Downhill Demesne, we followed the Causeway Coastal Route through Portrush and Bushmills (the former was bustling as it is getting ready for the NW200 motorbike race later this week), to reach the Giant’s Causeway. There was a time when the Causeway would not have qualified for my blog but following the construction of a major new visitors’ centre in 2012, it started to be classified under Buildings and Gardens in the handbook and thus made it onto my list. I had visited once before about 20+ years ago but that was on a cold, windy and dank January day, so I was delighted to be back here in the spring sunshine for a whole different experience. And, of course, to check out the extra facilities now offered in the visitor centre.

For me, the Causeway is simply awe-inspiring, with something otherworldly about the almost geometrical stones and columns. It is certainly no wonder that tales of myth and legend have built up around the stones, and while none of us truly believes that a giant once built the causeway (do we?), it is still a joy that this place can meet the needs of both dreamers and factualists.

As something of a dreamer myself, I love the legend of Finn McCool, an Irish giant who had a beef with Benandonner, a rival giant in Scotland (not the married couple up the road with the big house and perfect family). Finn is said to have built the causeway to cross the sea and reach his rival but rushed home when he saw the size of his enemy. Benandonner chased him back, but Finn’s quick-thinking wife, Oonagh, made him dress up as a baby. When Benandonner saw the ‘baby’, he marvelled at its size and realised that its father must be bigger still. He fled back to Scotland, tearing up the causeway as he went so that Finn could not follow.

For the factualists, the causeway was created by lava leakage around 60 million years ago, which cooled into basalt, layer after layer, leaving ball and socket joints. This cooling also created vertical cracks, thus forming the columns we can see today. All of this took millions upon millions of years… So, would you like me to tell you the story of the giants again?

In all seriousness, though, those with an interest in geology can find most of what they want to know in the visitor’s centre and guidebook. The audio guide, which you can pick up for free and listen to on the way down to the stones and back is perhaps not ideal for the scientists, however, as it tends to concentrate largely on the legends, with less detail on the cold, hard facts. There was still a little chat about the formation of the stones and some of the other geological features, but the guide is perhaps more frivolous than serious-minded science bods would like.

The other side of the Giant’s Gate

The less serious-minded, however, can seek out the various rock formations and structures that support the giant theory, from the Giant’s Boot, the Camel, the Onion Skins rocks near Windy Gap (supposedly the windiest spot in Ireland), the Teddy Bear belonging to Finn’s baby son, and the Stookans, which are said to be Finn McCool’s haystacks (though why he kept them on the seashore remains a mystery). The Giant’s Gate is a section that you can walk through to reach neighbouring Port Noffer bay, but it is a must-see as on the other side are some of the clearest examples of basalt columns, with the largest towering up to 10 metres above you.

My guidebook is a useful source of information as it presents a wider view of the causeway’s history. As well as the myths and the science, it also discusses the evolution of tourism at the stones, and this felt particularly interesting to me as my own two experiences of the causeway have been very different, and these were just 20-25 years apart not 300.

The Camel

The first written reference to the causeway dates back to 1688 and, in the early days, it was less of a tourist attraction and more of a scientific phenomenon. In the late 17^th century, Sir Thomas Molyneux became the first scientist to investigate the stones, albeit at a remove as he never bothered to visit the site himself and worked from samples sent to him. He was the first to conclude that the stones were made from basalt, but the debate over how this was formed raged on for the next 200 years, with some supporting the volcanic theory and others blaming the action of the oceans.

In the mid 1700s, Susanna Drury accurately painted the stones for the first time, expanding awareness and allowing scientists to develop new theories. Already, people were starting to come for the sight rather than the science, with the earliest reference to guided tours dating back to 1708. It was in the 19^th century, however, that tourism really exploded, with the Causeway Hotel opening at the top of the cliff in 1841 (it is still there to this day). William Makepeace Thackeray was one visitor in 1842 so we have many florid and literary descriptions of his experiences.

The Grand Causeway (impossible to photograph without visitors!)

My guidebook tells further tales of the boat trips that were once offered, the hawkers that made their living selling souvenirs at the stones, and even the ‘Old Marys’ who sold water from the Giant’s Well (a nearby rockpool) with a ‘free’ dram of whiskey on the side. While these things are no longer possible, the long history of guides taking visitors to the stones continues to this day and there is now a choice: you can walk down to the stones in the company of a human guide or use the hand-held audio option (which we chose to do). Souvenirs and refreshments are also still available but are sold from the comfort of the visitors’ centre rather than the side of the causeway itself. The centre is also home to a detailed exhibition, with interactive opportunities for younger visitors. Stories of the people who have had an impact on the site over the past 300 years are also presented, from Sir Thomas Molyneux to the current NT rangers.

Acquired by the National Trust in 1961, the causeway was given UNESCO World Heritage status in 1986. This combination will protect it and ensure its accessibility for many years to come. Mind you, for something that has been there for millions of years, it seems a little presumptuous to talk about the short-lived human race having any real impact on it, for better or worse. And I doubt the National Trust or UNESCO would be able to do much about it if the giants came back for another punch up!

Highlights: The stones – what else are you going there for?

Refreshments: None

Purchase(s): Guidebook; embroidered cloth badge; a stuffed direwolf (For anyone who doesn’t know what a direwolf is, I refer you to the Game of Thrones books or television adaptations. I am mixing my references, however, as I have named him Finn McCool after the giant of the Causeway myths)

Companion(s): Phil & Sarah

Carrick-a-Rede

After the Causeway, we drove several miles further along the coast and stopped at the car park for the Larrybane quarry and Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge. This is a Coast & Countryside location that does not qualify for the challenge, but it was well worth a visit so I thought I would tag it on to the Causeway entry.

For Game of Thrones fans, a walk to the old quarry workings will lead you to a set from season two, but it must be said that most people come here for the bridge, looking to test their mettle and brave the swaying, bouncing rope construction that hangs almost 30 metres above the sea and takes you across to the Carrick-a-Rede island or sea stack.

It was the salmon that originally led to the creation of the bridge as local fishermen realised the best place to net them was on the east side of Carrick-a-Rede island. They once used boats to get there but soon realised that they could operate better from the island itself, so they constructed a rough and ready rope crossing and built a fisherman’s cottage on the island, which is still there today. The rope bridge has gone through many incarnations, but the fishermen used to cross over on horizontal planks with gaps between and only one loose rope handrail.

Although I knew that health and safety would not allow tourists to cross something that flimsy, I didn’t know what to expect, so while one of our party was really looking forward to crossing and one was intent on staying well away from it so he couldn’t even see people crossing, I was still undecided when we left the car park.

From there, you can take a lovely gentle walk along the clifftops to a viewpoint, but as you get closer to the bridge, the terrain becomes steeper and there are two flights of rough steps to descend (and ascend on the way back!). When we arrived, I found the rope bridge to be a little sturdier than I had anticipated, with solid planks to walk across and sturdy ropes on either side to cling on to. It was a little worrying to see people coming the other way who were bouncing up and down to scare their companions, so I still couldn’t make my mind up. I climbed down the metal ladder stairs to reach the start of the bridge so I could take photos of my companion, and it was only then that I finally plucked up the courage to take the plunge (perhaps a poor choice of words as, thankfully, there was absolutely no plunging involved!).

We lucked out on both crossings as we pretty much had the bridge to ourselves. This meant that I could march across determinedly with only one thought in mind – reaching the other side as soon as possible – and my companion could stop and take selfies and photos along the way. Be aware, however, that at busy times, you may have to wait a while as there is a one-way system in place and a limit of eight people on the bridge at any one time.

Reaching the island or sea stack of Carrick-a-Rede was a joy as you can get closer to the nesting seabirds and take in the breathtaking views of Rathlin Island from a seat on a rock or the grass. I needed a sit down to still my racing heart before the return leg and if ever there was a perfect spot for calming the nerves, this would be it. Needless to say (the evidence is right here in black and white), I made it back in one piece too and was delighted to find that I could get a printed certificate to say that I had followed in the footsteps of fishermen and made it across to the island.

213. Mussenden Temple & Downhill Demesne – 7/5/2024

Wow! What a fantastic day on the north coast of Northern Ireland. We made no less than three NT visits, all very different, but all bathed in sunshine, with spectacular views around every corner. Only two of the visits qualify for the blog, but I will tag the third onto the end of my day’s analysis (see next entry, no. 214).

Like Derrymore House earlier in the week, this is very much a visit for walkers rather than stately home enthusiasts. The Downhill House would once have been a striking property, but it now stands in ruins, albeit picturesque ruins that add much to the clifftop views. The Mussenden Temple – modelled on the Temple of Vesta at Tivoli near Rome – is better preserved, perched on the very edge of the cliffs (some visitors from mainland Britain may recognise it from the Visit Ireland television adverts that have recently been showing). It is said that you could once have driven a horse and carriage right round the temple, but that would be impossible today without plunging to the beach below (a long way below). Time waits for no man – or temple – and coastal erosion is likely to give the National Trust a big headache at some stage in the future. To defend it, to move it, or to let nature take its course?

As well as the house ruins and temple perched on the clifftop, the Downhill Demesne also offers a pretty woodland walk through the Black Glen, currently a beautiful spot scented by the carpets of wild garlic on the shaded slopes. This part of the walk was not without its issues, however. We parked at the Bishops Gate (the main car park is at the Lion Gate) and walked into the glen… only to find we couldn’t easily walk out of it again. Not for the first time this week, the NT map makers were awarded a black mark as paths were shown that did not seem to exist and others that did exist were not marked. From the end of the lake in the glen, we had to make our way up an extremely steep hill only to find the exit blocked off at the top. Retracing our steps, we followed a precarious path back the way we had come. When we reached the end of that, we found a sign saying that the path was closed for safety reasons – note to the property managers, it would be helpful to put that sign at both ends of the path rather than just one.

Thankfully, we survived the ordeal to make it out on to the grasslands where our stroll continued across to the cliff edge to the temple, then back through the ruins of Downhill House and down the hill to the walled gardens alongside the Lion Gate. As with the house, there is little of the gardens left bar its walls, but in 2008 the Trust planted more than 10 different varieties of Irish apple trees here and these appear to be doing well.

So, why is all this here? The answer takes us back to a character who has already featured in this blog way back in the early days at property number 6. This is Frederick Hervey, the Bishop of Derry, who was also known as the Earl Bishop. Ickworth in Suffolk is the Herveys’ ancestral home and the Earl Bishop is responsible for planning the house that stands there today, including its classical rotunda. The rotunda was the only part of his vision that he saw completed, but his son completed the build to his father’s specifications. Bishop Frederick was certainly an extravagant character who was heavily inspired by Italian art and architecture, having spent a total of 18 years in Italy on five extended visits (he died there in 1803). One wonders how he had time to be a bishop or build houses.

Before he ever turned his attention to redeveloping Ickworth, however, the Earl Bishop embarked on a couple of building projects in Ireland. Ballyscullion House to the west of Lough Neagh was never finished and was knocked down in the mid 19^th century, but Downhill House was another matter. The architect was Michael Shanahan and the build was carried out between 1775 and the mid-1780s. It comprised a three-storey south-facing front, with two long wings at the back that ended in basalt bastions to give a defensive feel to the building so much so that anyone approaching by sea might have thought it was a castle. Although the broad structure is still visible, there is now nothing left but the walls. The house was occupied for centuries, right up until RAF servicemen and women were stationed there during WWII, but it was largely dismantled after that, and the roof was removed in the 1950s. Today, it is merely a shell, so it is hard to imagine the decadent Earl Bishop hosting his lavish parties there. One story of Downhill’s entertainments is that the Bishop would sprinkle flour in the guest corridors at night so he could see who was visiting who! As I mentioned in my Ickworth entry, he was not exactly the kind of character one would associate with the clergy.

View of Downhill Beach from the Temple

The Mussenden Temple was built in 1783 – also overseen by Michael Shanahan – and was named in honour of Frideswide Mussenden, the daughter of the Earl Bishop’s cousin. There were apparently suggestions of impropriety between Frederick and the much younger Frideswide and the controversy may well have contributed to her poor health and early death, just two years after the temple’s construction. The building was initially used as the Earl Bishop’s library and fires were kept burning constantly to prevent the books from becoming damp in the prevailing conditions. The motto around the top of the temple reads “Tis pleasant, safely to behold from shore – the rolling ship, and hear the tempest roar”. On our visit, there was no tempest, just calm seas, clear skies and views across to Donegal in one direction and the Scottish isles in the other.

It is a pity that the Earl’s vision for Downhill has largely disappeared, but one can still imagine his guests wandering the halls of the house (disturbing the flour as they went!) or strolling to the temple to read a book and admire the views.

NB: A few kilometres up the road from Downhill Demesne is Hezlett House, an example of a 17^th century farm cottage, which was home to many generations of the Hezlett family over 200 years since 1766. Sadly, this is not open at present.

Highlights: Views

Refreshments: None

Purchase(s): None

Companion(s): Phil & Sarah

NT Connections: The Earl-Bishop, Frederick Hervey, who built Downhill House was also the creator of the rotunda at Ickworth in Suffolk, the ancestral home of the Herveys

212. Patterson’s Spade Mill – 6/5/2024

An active metal-working mill

A visit to Patterson’s Spade Mill must be prebooked as it has very limited opening times – Saturdays only and just the first Saturday of the month in the shoulder seasons. It is worth planning ahead to ensure a spot on a tour, however, as the hour-long session is excellent and includes a full demonstration of the machinery in action and the smiths beating red-hot metal into spade blades and more decorative metalwork.

Apologies for the photo quality here, but it was an ‘action shot’ with belts moving and red-hot metal being hammered

The resident spade millers at present are James and Michael and they shared the load of the tour in different parts of the mill. We started in the main forge room where we saw James beating a spigot or billet of metal into a blade shape using first an old traditional trip hammer and then a newer one that does the same job in a fraction of the time. When the glowing blade was passed several feet in front of us, we really got a feel for just how hot the metal must be for forging. James also regaled us with the many sayings that owe their origins to blacksmithing, from ‘going hammer and tongs’ to ‘striking while the iron is hot’. There was another phrase that we English folks didn’t know, which is having ‘a face as long as a Lurgan spade’, i.e, long and downcast. I’ve sported one or two of them in my time!

Another amusing part of the demonstration was the ‘on/off’ switch that Michael used for the trip hammer: this was basically a block of wood inserted between hammer and anvil to stop the cogs connecting with the hammer mechanism. This reinforced the idea that much of what we were seeing at Patterson’s has been going on for around 100 years, and even the oldest machinery is still in action.

The Patterson family first took the mill over just after WWI. They were already an experienced family of spade makers so when they acquired the Templepatrick watermill – which had previously been a paper mill and a beetling mill (for the linen industry) – they converted it to spade making and replaced the waterwheel with a water turbine instead. The water comes from the Ballymartin river and travels along a separate mill race to feed the millpond, with sluice gates then controlling the flow along an aqueduct and down into the turbine. This turbine powers multiple machines inside the mill, through a central axle to which the many belts and pulleys are attached.

The turbine

Several generations of Pattersons worked this site over the past century and, although there were once many spade mills across Ireland, this was the last working example, and only closed in 1990. The Pattersons perhaps outlasted the opposition due to their savvy business brains, i.e. their reluctance to spend money! We were told of several ingenious ways in which they adapted machines to fulfil more than one role, particularly in the woodworking shop where the spade handles and shafts were crafted. It also seems that the labels attached to their spade handles came in many different colours as they simply bought the paper that was cheapest at the time, whatever the shade.

I must admit that I wasn’t expecting a lot from this visit as, although I am a strong advocate for maintaining the old ways and teaching the next generation how things used to be done, I didn’t really think there was anything about spades that I wanted to know. As ever, though, the Trust has a way of surprising me and expanding my horizons. After all, I had never really thought about the associations between the Irish and digging, but when reminded about the agricultural history of the country, the need to cut turf for fuel, and the role of the Irish ‘navvies’ in digging canals, railways and roads all over the world, it became clear why spade making was so important in the country. And why different kinds of spades were needed for different tasks and even for different regions of Ireland. For example, clayey and peaty soils require a more broad-ended blade, while stony soils need more tapered blades so the narrow end can be used to dig out stones.

Although the National Trust millers still make spades at Patterson’s, including bespoke orders, they also hold blacksmith classes in the second room in the mill, so amateurs can come along and learn how to make more decorative pieces. Some such products are on sale at the mill and if we hadn’t had to minimise the extra ballast in the car on the way home, I would have been tempted by some of the ornaments. Instead, I had to make do with my ‘Call a Spade a Spade’ guidebook and making an entry in the visitor’s book.

I was pleased to learn that James and Michael have forged some links for my list of NT Connections. These are usually reserved for family ties or associations of historical people with more than one property. On this occasion, however, the connection lies in the smiths’ role in helping out at other Trust properties in NI. Apparently, the pair have recently worked at Castle Ward to mend the corn mill there, while they are hoping to eventually get the Florence Court sawmill up and running so they can source their ash spade handles from local trees. I remember the sawmill at Florence Court so it would be great to one day see that in action too. For now, though, I will simply end with the hope that you are all keeping up with this week’s blogging as the entries appear to be coming in spades!

Highlights: Blacksmithing in action

Refreshments: None

Purchase(s): Guidebook

Companion(s): Phil & Sarah

NT Connections: The Patterson’s spade millers have restored a corn mill at Castle Ward (for the future, they are also investigating ways to get the Florence Court sawmill back up and running to supply ash for spade handles)

211. Mount Stewart – 5/5/2024

Mount Stewart is one of the flagship properties in Northern Ireland. The house is situated close to the banks of Strangford Lough, so the approach offers superb views from the shoreside road, back across the water to Scrabo Hill where a monument to one of Mount Stewart’s former owners towers over the town of Newtownards. En route, we had a brief stop to photograph the views and a group of around ten sandpipers, which had been infiltrated by a rogue ringed plover.

A visit to Mount Stewart offers a variety of activities, from lough-watching alongside the car park to woodland and lakeside walks, as well as the house and its formal gardens. We arrived not long after opening and, after a restorative coffee, headed off to explore the wider estate. Our walk took us past the lake, through areas of rhododendrons, a fernery, and a walled rose garden. On the far side of the lake, you may notice a statue of a white stag beautifully outlined against a red maple tree. He is supposed to be guarding the approach to the family’s private burial ground, known as Tir nan Òg, the otherworld of Gaelic folklore, which translates as ‘the land of the ever young’. The last two significant owners of Mount Stewart, Charles 7^th Marquess of Londonderry and his wife Edith, are both buried here at their beloved home.

The Sunken Garden and west wing of the house

Returning to the house, we entered the formal gardens, which were created by Edith the Marchioness and her head gardener, Thomas Bolas, over nearly 30 years of working together. Divided into separate areas, the highlights for me were the Sunken Garden, the Shamrock Garden with its distinctive shape, the Dodo Terrace with its menagerie of stone animals, and the Spanish Garden so named because of the Spanish tiles on its summerhouse. Overall, Edith’s gardens at Mount Stewart were her pride and joy and she revelled in the warm microclimate alongside Strangford Lough as it allowed her to grow virtually anything. As a result, she funded several plant-hunting expeditions around the world, bringing more unusual plants back to her expanding domain. The local tourist board describes the Mount Stewart garden as ‘one of the top ten in the world’: a bold claim perhaps, but as a casual observer, I will simply say that they were very lovely and well worth a visit.

Ark, dodo, rabbit and stegosaurus

The Dodo Terrace stands out as a particularly interesting aspect of the garden. At the Londonderrys’ other main property in London, Lady Edith was a popular society hostess in the years from WWI until the 1930s, bringing artists, soldiers and politicians together in what became known as her ‘Ark’. She was given the moniker of Circe the Sorceress and other visitors had their own alliterative nicknames. Her husband was Charles the Cheetah (very appropriate considering his philandering ways), while others included Harold the Hummingbird (Harold Macmillan), Nancy the Gnat (Nancy Astor) and Winston the Warlock (Winston Churchill). These particular characters do not appear on the Dodo Terrace, but others are represented by a series of stone carved animals. A stone ark marks the entrance to the terrace, while four dodos stand on pillars overlooking the rest of the menagerie, which includes rabbits, a squirrel, a pig, a frog and even a stegosaurus! Edith sounds like a very fun lady and I can imagine the pleasure she took in adding another politician or stuffy bigwig to her animal collection.

I should add that Edith was far more than just a society hostess and joker as she played an active role in founding the Women’s Legion during the First World War and was also a strong advocate for women’s right to vote. It was also Edith who started the process of transferring Mount Stewart to the National Trust, giving them the gardens in 1955 before her daughter, Mairi, later passed on the house and temple in 1976. Although Mairi had made many changes, a major restoration project between 2010 and 2015, costing around £8 million, returned Mount Stewart to Edith’s vision for the house and grounds.

After our walk in the gardens, we had a much-needed lunch break before embarking on a tour of the house. The Billiards Room to the right of the entrance hall currently contains displays about the house and family, as well as an exhibition of some of the family’s clothing. Armed with a little more information, we then moved on into the Central Hall, which is the most dramatic room in the house. Its pale stone-flagged floor and white painted walls combined with the large skylight window makes this a very bright and dazzling entrance. The volunteer in the room showed us how it had been changed in the time of Edith’s daughter and I am glad the Trust put it back to Edith’s brighter and more classical version. I must apologise to the volunteer as I became a little distracted taking photographs and missed what she was saying about the history of the house, so I then had to ask her to start again! My bad. Thankfully, she was very accommodating and filled me in on the various stages of the house’s history.

The Stewart family have owned land here for over 270 years. Alexander and Mary Stewart were the first to build a modest summer house for themselves by the shores of the lough in 1744. Their son, Robert, the 1^st Marquess, then put his own mark on the site, with a two-storey house and some formal gardens. He was also responsible for the classical Temple of the Winds tower on the hill, further along the lough, which was finished in 1786 (not open to visitors at present). In the early 19^th century, Robert then added a large west wing running perpendicular to the original house.

A couple of generations later, Charles, the 3^rd Marquess of Londonderry, married a coal heiress and flush with new cash embarked on a major remodelling of the house. He kept Robert’s west wing but knocked down the rest of his grandfather’s house and replaced it with a larger central section and a symmetrical east wing. No major structural changes have since been made, but there have clearly been alterations in the intervening years, and I think this may be the reason why the house did not entirely blow me away. It is presented as it would have been in the early 20^th century and the décor was plainer than I had anticipated from the initial impact of the Central Hall. It is perhaps a house that would be better to live in than to stand in awe of.

After my tour of the large rooms downstairs and more modest bedrooms (each named after a European city), I made my way into an exhibition room where the story of Viscount Castlereagh, the 2^nd Marquess, is presented. This was a particularly interesting slice of history for me as I didn’t know a lot about him before. I knew he had been involved in some controversial Irish political developments, most notably pushing through the Act of Union in 1800, but he had fingers in many more pies than this during this political life, not least in appointing two of Britain’s most successful military gentlemen in the Duke of Wellington and Admiral Lord Nelson. He also negotiated Napoleon’s surrender in Europe and thrashed out a lasting peace at the Congress of Vienna (keeping Britain free from war within Europe for over 100 years). Sadly, he also incurred criticism for his quelling of the Irish Rebellion of 1798 and, less fairly, for the Peterloo Massacre in 1819. He had nothing to do with controlling the militia and for their violence at Peterloo, but he was the voice of the Government in the House of Commons and had to justify their actions. The poet, Shelley, wrote a piece that includes the lines ‘I met Murder on the way -, He had a mask like Castlereagh’, tarnishing his reputation for good.

Castlereagh’s life ended in tragedy. He clearly regretted some of his political moves, including the situation in Ireland and is quoted as saying “With respect to Ireland, I know I shall never be forgiven… but believe that I never had a cruel or unkind heart”. He had also suffered from depression for most of his life, and in 1822, he had a breakdown. Sharp objects and guns were hidden away and the doctor was called, but before he arrived Castlereagh had cut his own throat with a penknife.

I cannot end on such a subdued note so I will furnish you with an amusing tale we were told on the staircase landing. Looming over the stairs is a huge painting entitled ‘Hambletonian’ by George Stubbs. Hambletonian was the best racehorse in the north of England, owned by Sir Henry Vane, the father-in-law of the 3^rd Marquess. In 1799, he challenged the owner of the best horse in the south of England to a race between their respective animals at Newmarket, and Hambletonian won by a neck. Stubbs was commissioned to paint the victor but included stains of blood and foam that the horse carried after the race. Vane insisted he change it, but Stubbs refused and was taken to court, only to lose the case and be ordered to make the changes that the owner of the picture wanted. The painter had some tricks up his sleeve, however, and made several further alterations. Based on the position of his hand on the horse’s neck, one of the grooms appears to have grown a six-foot long arm, while the other has a very long back and short legs. Meanwhile, the horse seems to be standing on two left feet!

The painting is one of the most valuable pieces that the Trust owns, having been valued at more than £20 million a few years ago, with suggestions that it is now worth nearer £30 million. As one of my companions pointed out, it seems that Stubbs’ tricks backfired as they only made his painting all the more valuable! Needless to say, this is top of the list of items to be rescued should there ever be a fire at Mount Stewart (heaven forbid). It’s a huge painting, so I do not envy those whose job it would be to remove it. The frame certainly wouldn’t be rescued with it, though, as I doubt it would fit through any of the doors!

NB: I have a royal visit to add to my list here. Charles, the 6^th Marquess, and his wife Theresa were both strongly political and staunch Unionists and, in 1903, they hosted King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra at Mount Stewart.  

Highlights: The Central Hall; the Dodo Terrace; ‘Hambletonian’

Refreshments: Cappuccino; Spring pea, feta and radish frittata with potato salad and ‘slaw; crisps

Purchase(s): Guidebook

Companion(s): Phil & Sarah

210. The Argory – 4/5/2024

I visited The Argory for lunch about six years ago en route to a weekend near Enniskillen to start my Northern Irish NT adventures. It was a pleasure to be back at last to do it properly and take in more than just the café (although needless to say, that was again included).

The Argory is only about ten minutes away from Ardress House, and we arrived there just before 1pm. Hearing that there was a house tour starting in a couple of minutes, I left my companions and hotfooted it to reception to get a ticket. I thought I was going to be a party of one, but a Dutch lady shortly joined me at the front entrance with a Northern Irish boy in tow (I never got around to establishing their relationship, but they both gave me good reports about Mount Stewart, their favourite NI property, which is on the schedule for tomorrow). We were all chuffed to have arrived at the perfect time for a tour and almost before our feet had touched the ground at The Argory, we found ourselves being welcomed into the house by Dominique, another excellent guide.

The Argory is an Irish gentry house, built in the 1820s by Walter MacGeough Bond, a barrister and High Sheriff of County Armagh. A further three generations of MacGeough Bonds lived at The Argory and three of them were called Walter so my guide very handily gave them nicknames to distinguish them from one another. The timeline goes: Walter the Builder (the aforementioned barrister), Ralph the Soldier (although a nickname was not entirely necessary as he had escaped being a Walter), Sir Walter (who craftily got himself knighted so he stood out), and Mr Bond (the name’s Bond, Walter Bond!). This last Walter gave the house to the National Trust in 1979, including all of its contents and 300 acres of land.

There are some truly surprising sights inside the house, which is laid out as it would have been in 1900 when Mr Bond was a boy. Immediately you enter the house, the cantilevered staircase takes the eye, as does the ornate wrought iron stove in the middle of the hall. This was thought to be a clever design as it has no chimney and uses underground flues to siphon out the smoke… only smoke tends to rise so by all accounts the system never really worked very well.

One of the biggest surprises about the house is the almost complete absence of electric lights. From 1906 onwards, the house used an acetylene gas system, which is still in place to this day, although the gas supply was cut off in 1979 when the National Trust took over and found that there were potentially explosive leaks. All of the original light fixtures, complete with gas pipes, can still be seen around the house, though, and all of them are different.

The next surprise came at the top of the main staircase when we found the upper landing is home to a large church-style organ. In fact, it is a similar size to one you might find in a more than modest country church. This is, in fact, a barrel organ so would once have been able to ‘play itself’. The barrels are now a little fragile and are rarely used, but skilled pianists visiting the house are still permitted to play it using the keyboard.

On this same landing is an ebony cabinet inlaid with mother of pearl flowers (possibly tulips) that really caught the eye. This has been traced to a Dutch maker, Herman Doomer, and is very similar to one on display in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. In 2018, it was actually borrowed by that very same museum to join an exhibition of similar pieces.

The presence of modern art in the house is also something of a surprise. Mr Bond was an avid supporter of young artists and had a significant collection of modern paintings and sculptures. Although most of the family’s belongings remain in the house (even down to his mother’s shoes and hats), most of the modern art collection was bequeathed to relatives and has been broken up, with just one or two pieces remaining at The Argory.

Our tour ended in a lobby in which evidence of all four of the house’s owners can be seen, from Walter the Builder’s early plans for the house to modern sculptures acquired by Mr Bond. One of the items is Ralph’s weighing chair with attached height stick, and alongside it an old handwritten notebook in a glass case. In the house’s early days, every visitor was weighed and measured, and their figures entered in the book. This might feel a little invasive to the modern eye, but it was intended to ensure that every guest at the house could be given the right horse for their size. Mind you, it seems that Ralph was such a fan of his weighing chair that he used it to weigh absolutely everything, including furniture, parcels, pets and even the servants!

The house reappears as we make our way back up from the River Blackwater

After my tour, I rejoined my companions and our resident map reader planned us a walking route around the grounds, taking in woodland terrain, the rose garden (too early yet for that to dazzle) and a riverside path by the River Blackwater, which is the dividing line between Counties Armagh and Tyrone. I was also delighted to find that our visit coincided with The Argory’s book fair so the already excellent secondhand bookshop was supplemented by three other ‘shops’ in outbuildings and on undercover trestle tables. We are trying to be discerning in our book choices this week as the car was crammed to the roof on the way down and we have very little room to take extra items home. We came away with one book each, though, so if this goes on, we may be hiring a roof rack come next weekend!

NB: Sadly, I have to finish on a complaint as, yet again, I was told that the guidebooks were being reprinted. Why, oh why, can no one plan ahead and order a reprint BEFORE the previous run sells out?

Highlights: The upstairs landing with organ and Doomer cabinet; the gas lighting systems

Refreshments: Pot of tea and a plain scone with butter

Purchase(s): ‘A Most Wanted Man’ by John Le Carré from the secondhand bookshop

Companion(s): Phil & Sarah

209. Ardress House – 4/5/2024

The house with its false screen wall on the left

Ardress House is another of the smaller Northern Ireland properties that has fairly limited opening times and few facilities. As ever, though, it was worth a look as there were one or two ‘ooh’ moments. The first thing we noticed on the approach was the vast numbers of apple orchards in the vicinity, including either side of the driveway up to the house and in other parts of the grounds. Our guide told us that County Armagh is the orchard county of Ireland so I would recommend a spring visit when these are all blossoming. It’s a pretty spot.

Armagh: the “Orchard County”

Like The Argory nearby (the second property I did today), there is no free-flow in the house so you will have to join a guided tour, but this is never a bad thing. I have found that I get far more insights from a tour than I do when left to my own devices, especially if there is no guidebook to supplement my visit. I hadn’t noticed any guidebooks in visitor reception (more of that later, I was a bit blind!) so I was pleased that the tour would offer some verbal communications about the house. On this occasion, we were the only people on our 12pm tour so it was a very personalized experience.

Ardress House is another example of an architectural jigsaw puzzle and this certainly made for a couple of surprises as our guide, Lena, took us around. She clearly knows how to play with her audience as she gave us some gentle encouragement to ‘open that door and move on into the drawing room’, knowing that we would be stunned to find ourselves transferring from a plain 1660s farmhouse into a late 1700s display of impressively ornate plasterwork. Following this, we made a brief detour upstairs, before finally arriving in our third decorative period in the large Victorian dining room.

This mishmash of styles was readily explained to us in the potted history of the house. The original farmhouse was built by Thomas Clarke, but his granddaughter Sarah married an architect, George Ensor, and let’s face it, he was always going to put his own stamp on the house in one way or another. They inherited in the late 18^th century and, as well as adding a portico, George doubled the size of the house by extending behind the original building. More importantly, he employed ‘stuccodore’ (a great name for a skilled plasterer) Michael Stapleton – known as the Irish Adam – to create a drawing room that certainly looks like something Robert Adam would have done. It has classical roundels and plaster swags, and carries the pastel colour schemes so popular for the style.

Further changes were made by the next George in line, best known as a lawyer and author. In the bedroom the guide showed us a truly scathing review of one of his books, which would have destroyed the confidence of any writer, but apparently had little impact on George as he continued to produce his books on social, economic and political issues. This George extended the house yet again. At the front, he turned five bays into nine by adding a further wing to the north and a screen wall to the south to ensure symmetry. He also introduced a third layer behind the front two, with a dining room on the ground floor and library above. We visited the dining room, which has a far plainer feel than the showy drawing room, in keeping with its origins in the unostentatious Victorian era.

Overall, five generations of Ensors lived at Ardress House before it was purchased by the National Trust in 1960. The Ensor coat of arms can be seen in various spots around the house, complete with a unicorn and three supposedly upside-down horseshoes. It was explained that these are not in fact inverted but are designed to signify a horse walking forwards away from the viewer. I liked this idea of the family as a forward-looking progressive bunch, although I am not sure why their horse only had three legs!

Although Ardress House does not hold many original items from the Ensor days, it has loaned many items from other parts of the National Trust and local museums (the reason given for a ban on photography inside). One of these items is a beautiful piece that is worth the visit alone: not only have I never seen anything like it, but its history is pretty awe-inspiring. This is the 1799 pedestal table in the drawing room, a large round table inlaid with marquetry and carrying symbols designed to depict the rose, thistle and shamrock of England, Scotland and Ireland. The feet of the table also form the ‘leaves’ of a shamrock, while there is an Irish harp inserted into the support. Furthermore, the underside of the table carries an ornate geometric pattern as the table has a tilt top and the maker clearly didn’t want any part of his creation to appear underdone. While we were admiring all of these components revealed to us by the guide, she then told us that George V had signed the Constitution of Northern Ireland on this exact same table in 1921. As one of my companions said, she maybe should have led with that fact!

“Feed us!”

Beyond the house, Ardress’ biggest selling point is its farmyard, which houses a lot of period machinery for both farm and house in a series of outbuildings around a cobbled court. This is also home to a flock of cheerful rescue chickens who may well follow you around in hopes of some of the feed offered to visitors for a small fee… and will burble indignantly if you don’t come through.

I realise I said ‘more of that later’ about the guidebook situation, so I will just finish by adding that there is no recent guidebook available for Ardress House, but the reception is still selling copies of a very old 1990 edition (perhaps only ‘while stocks last’). I am getting fed up with hearing ‘it’s being reprinted’ when I ask for a guidebook, so I was delighted to find even outdated information to supplement my visit and that’s a big brownie point for Ardress.

Highlights: The drawing room and its ‘harp’ table

Refreshments: None

Purchase(s): Guidebook, postcard of drawing room (photos inside are not allowed)

Companion(s): Phil & Sarah

208. Rowallane Garden – 3/5/2024

As our visit to Derrymore House did not take all that long, we decided to head across to Rowallane Garden and get this week of Trusting off to a flying start. Like Derrymore, Rowallane offers pleasant surroundings for a walk, but there are a few more facilities available, including a café and a secondhand bookshop. We started in the former and ended in the latter, bookending (do you see what I did there?) a walk around the varied gardens and pleasure grounds.

Not for the first time in my recent travels, I had to work a little harder than I would like to pin down some detail about Rowallane and its history. A map is supplied on arrival but there is no guidebook and when I went to track down further information and a timeline of the property in the house, I found several display boards blocked by some dried flower arrangements and secondhand books stacked up on old garden crates. I had to twist myself into various contortions to get the camera high enough or low enough to be able to take snaps of the text for future perusal.

From what I could glean from my acrobatics, it seems that the site was owned by the O’Neill chieftain and his clan in the 14^th century and then passed through many different hands until it was bought by the Reverend John Moore in 1858. He spent the next 30 years creating the current house, pleasure grounds, stable yard, walled gardens, etc. and creating most of the Rowallane the visitor sees today. His nephew Hugh Armytage Moore inherited in 1895 and spent another 55 years preserving and enhancing the site, adding the Rock Garden Wood and the Spring Ground. In 1955, a year after Hugh died, the property was given to the National Trust by the Ulster Land Fund. The house was once used as the National Trust’s Northern Ireland office, but parts of the downstairs are now home to the café, bookshop and toilets.

In the Rock Garden Wood

This was a good time of year to visit as the azaleas and rhododendrons are, quite frankly, showing off. And as anyone who knows me is well aware “I do love an azalea”! The Rock Garden Wood was a particularly colourful area and I like a rock garden almost as much as I like an azalea so a combination of the two was heaven. There are very few formal gardens at Rowallane, with only the walled garden and outer walled garden being more strategically laid out. Elsewhere, woodland walks and sweeping grounds are very much the order of the day, but there is still plenty of varied planting to keep more avid horticulturists happy. In fact, we met one lady who had ‘mislaid a man and a dog’ while engrossed in admiration of a eucalyptus!

Fortunately, I had brought along a man who likes a good map, so none of our party got lost. He was an excellent guide and made sure we didn’t miss any of the waymarked spots around the gardens. That left me free to photograph an azalea… or two… or three… or… I think you get the picture (well at least three of them in this post anyway!).

Highlights: Rock Garden Wood; azaleas

Refreshments: Pot of tea and a caramel slice

Purchase(s): None

Companion(s): Phil & Sarah