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Orderly Audley
I feel the need to impress upon you, dear readers, what an Unmitigatedly good day out is to be had at Audley End House, on the fringes of the delightful Essex town of Saffron Walden. English Heritage do some remarkable things, in this case the superb presentation of a house, a garden, and the attendant detail. A Jacobean house looking out on the formal gardens and surrounding countryside from tall windows with blinds half drawn; walls lined with the stern portraits of ancestral ownership punctuated by Venetian views; warm bright kitchens with copper pans reflecting firelight, pretty Victorian girls shouting to each other over pudding bowls; the heady scents from an expansive walled kitchen garden, grapes inflating in dazzling white greenhouses. So much to delight the eye round every corner. And after all that the Fry Gallery in the town, and a stunning exhibition of Eric Ravilious's Essex paintings. I had to be led out weeping, and into the Kings Arms on Market Hill to gather myself back together.
9 comments:
My knowledge of Audley End extends only to the extremely Unmitigated Edward Bawden lithograph; his lawn-edging is something to behold
and I forgot to say that it took pride of place of in my parents' living room so I had plenty of time to study it.
Mrs Seymour who lives at Thrumpton Hall, Nottinghamshire (nearby) grew up at Audley End. (Mother of Miranda). She does the tour.
Sounds as though the combo of house and pictures was too much.
Lovely, just lovely. I can thoroughly endorse your observations Mr.A. It's a quick drive from the airport if your flight from Stansted is delayed and yet it feels a million miles away. I hope you've recovered from the Fry Gallery with its manifold delights...didn't overdo the post-visit medication I hope? When I were a lad and at school at nearby Newport, detention (quite common in my case) meant running to Audley End station to catch one of the later express trains (drawn by a Britannia Class loco, natch). This meant you were only a few minutes later home than the old school railcar and you didn't get the third degree from inquisitive parents.
Blimey Jon. You wait half-an-hour for a bus and then two... Only yesterday did my friend and colleague here in the gallery tell me he was at school in Newport, and ran for trains back to Bishops Stortford. Around the same time perhaps. Apparently Lord Braybrooke at Audley End insisted that he have a station if the line was to go through his desmesne, and be called Audley End even though it's in the village of Wendens Ambo. Anyway, who'd buy a ticket to a place called Wendens Ambo? Sounds made up.
And, Williamandemma, I forgot to mention that the Fry Gallery is largely based on a collection Bawden's work. One tiny room is devoted to his book jackets, on shelves opposite Ravilious's ceramics for Wedgwood.
Another Old Newportonian, eh? ...and a Stortfordian to boot...must have done something dreadful in a previous life. Here's the security question though...ask him (or her depending upon age) 'Who or what is The Ryder?'
He says 'Playing fields' Jon.
Blimey! one of the old brigade! You might clear your throat and say, 'sotto voce', 'Spud Taylor' just as confirmation...although I think his credentials are pretty watertight although the foregoing is a bit age-specific. Your mention of Wenden's Ambo brings back vivid and bitter memories of winter cross country runs.
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