Grotto

Monday past to Polesden Lacey to get an early sighting of their Christmas decorations. Boned up a bit beforehand by reading Osbert Sitwell on the subject, he being a regular guest of Mrs. Greville's at Poleseden Lacey and elsewhere for most of the inter-war years. A convenient appendage for a lively widow?

Winter lights

Dull first thing, but bright enough by the time we got to Polesden at around 1100. To find the latest thing in portable lighting erected in the car park to this heritage attraction. Perhaps it would be more in the spirit of things to have trusty's wandering around in the dark, dressed up in dark cloaks and so forth and carrying large lanterns?

Winter sheds

Garnish

No Christmas operation can be said to be complete these days unless it includes a Christmas market, so some sheds had been wheeled in for the purpose, probably stocked from some even bigger shed somewhere in North Kent (estuary land). I was interested to see that the market business is now organised enough that there are special sheds for the purpose, complete with fork-lift truck friendly undercarriage. Makes getting them off the low loader so much easier. With a bit of garnish to the sheds being provided by a yellow camper van, last seen at Hobbledown. Or at least one very like it. See reference 1.

First stop the cafeteria, a large part of which was laid out for Christmas Lunch for the trusty's. Of which we learned there were around 800, 100 or so of whom were outdoor, presumably necessitating a substantial personnel operation, staffed with salaried staff. Can't expect volunteers to do that sort of thing. But with 800 of them, they must be running their Christmas Lunches for a fortnight or so.

The power is coming!

Just past the camper van, there were two busy men in a hole, doing something electrical. Presumably providing power for all the sheds. Power which was being led in from the main house by a substantial trench along the edge of one of the lawns. Part of the price we pay for going early, before everything is shipshape and Bristol fashion.

Grotto tableau one

Into the house to find that the interior had been transformed into a Christmas Grotto, not that far removed from the large Grotto operation at Chessington Garden Centre, for which see reference 2. As is now the custom, the trusty's were dressed up in the fashion of Mrs. Greville's hey-day - and they had done their homework, well up for discourse on the various treasures and attractions of the house. Two of which have already been noticed under the group search key of pla - in which connection I had worried about search for 'pla' finding the many words which so start, like 'place'. Fortunately, I find this morning that blog search at least does whole word searching, so we don't get all the places and playgrounds.

Piety

Play

Along the way we took in some of the paintings. A rather mixed bag, but there were some that were very old (piety above) and some which amused (play above). We also took in some of the interesting china - perhaps porcelain? - but in the dark, grotto lighting, not so easy to see.

Caterpillar attack

Out to take a turn in the gardens, where we were pleased to find that they were doing their bit for the box tree caterpillar war. For which, for example, see reference 3.

Mushrooms

Late delphiniums

One of the rose beds did not have much in the way of roses - there were still some out - but it did have a good crop of mushrooms. Maybe they come in with the organic compost, possibly from one of the tenant farms around the estate. We also had some late delphiniums, flowers which I rather like but which I have never attempted to grow.

The cafeteria looked rather busy with the trusty's having their lunch, so BH elected to go the back way to the Stepping Stones public house, just by Box Hill & Westhumble railway station, underneath Box Hill. With Westhumble being rather an odd, strung out sort of place, with all kinds of odd buildings. See reference 4 for a taster. We were unlucky enough to meet a dustcart on the way, a smaller dustcart which was well suited the smaller road, but lucky enough that the driver reversed into a handy driveway, rather than sitting and waiting while I tried out my rather rusty reversing skills.

The Stepping Stones public house was possibly repurposed from something else (there was a rather odd, semi-detached chimney round the back) to work the Box Hill day tripping trade when the railway came to town and was probably substantially extended in the more recent past. But all that apart, we were greeted by a very cheerful and efficient barmaid, a lady of middle years.

Artefact?

Settled for pie and veg. The pie was average, almost certainly from a factory rather than made on the spot ('home made' in the jargon of the casual dining trade) and the vegetables were very good, unusually so for said casual dining. I think they even involved a spot of lightly boiled green cabbage. Once again, I forgot to ask for the gravy to be supplied in a jug, so I had rather more of that than I wanted. But, overall, very good. We may be back.

We had also wondered about the artefact snapped above. Was it some cult object from equatorial Africa? Was it a piece of our industrial heritage? We decided on the latter, with it being turned by means of the wooden gears of a water wheel, with belts driving machines of some sort being slipped over the two ends.

Threatening sky

Onto Ashtead to pick up the Guardian and bread rolls noticed at reference 5. Much banter along the way, no doubt fuelled by the wine from the Stepping Stones. Rather threatening sky over the M&S food hall, as seen from the car park. A food hall which is more like a shed from this side than it is from the front, where it is more faux old-style high street.

Major pot hole under the West Street railway bridge, a pot hole I would not care to have hit on a bicycle.

Mrs. Greville

Home to read our National Trust book about Mrs. Greville, to find that our copy, bought second hand from somewhere or other, had been signed by the author, one Siân Evans, a Welsh lady who specialises in this sort of thing. Unlike our Sitwell volumes, which no-one has signed. I was reminded that this beer heiress from Scotland made it her business to cultivate the royals, for which she clearly had both the money and the verve. To the point where the house was at one point destined to become the property of a royal younger son, perhaps the Lord Andrew of his day. A destiny which was not fulfilled as the house fell into the hands of the National Trust instead.

Reference 1: http://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/08/hobbledown.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2018/12/christmas-grotto.html.

Reference 3: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/08/caterpillar-control-episode-1.html.

Reference 4: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Westhumble.

Reference 5: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/11/oral-porn.html.


Group search key: pla.