Whilst looking through some papers, I found this old photograph of my ancestral home, Montherlant. From birth I occupied several rooms on the top floor. My nanny's quarters were downstairs. I recall playing tennis in the halls and keeping a family of ducks in a spare room. Amongst the fine paintings and threadbare Persian rugs, I enacted elaborate battles using a collection of toy soldiers. Built in 1702, the estate featured a spacious network of gardens and fish ponds, which, for me, were by far the principal attraction of the place. I have fond memories of exploring the stands of oak trees and flower beds with my pet Greek tortoise, Toby. But it was not to last. When I was still quite young, due to a set of adverse circumstances, as I have previously related here, I was sent away from Montherlant to live with my mother's relative. Montherlant, however, continues to play a significant role in my recollections of the past. In my reveries I imagine my toy soldiers are still in formation and Toby is still keeping watch amongst the oaks, awaiting my return.
28 November 2007
Montherlant
Whilst looking through some papers, I found this old photograph of my ancestral home, Montherlant. From birth I occupied several rooms on the top floor. My nanny's quarters were downstairs. I recall playing tennis in the halls and keeping a family of ducks in a spare room. Amongst the fine paintings and threadbare Persian rugs, I enacted elaborate battles using a collection of toy soldiers. Built in 1702, the estate featured a spacious network of gardens and fish ponds, which, for me, were by far the principal attraction of the place. I have fond memories of exploring the stands of oak trees and flower beds with my pet Greek tortoise, Toby. But it was not to last. When I was still quite young, due to a set of adverse circumstances, as I have previously related here, I was sent away from Montherlant to live with my mother's relative. Montherlant, however, continues to play a significant role in my recollections of the past. In my reveries I imagine my toy soldiers are still in formation and Toby is still keeping watch amongst the oaks, awaiting my return.
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3 comments:
that looks like Pemberley. are you sure your name is not Mr. Darcy?
I'm new to your blog, thanks to your drole comments on The Sartorialist, and I must say I greatly appreciate your sense of humour. In fact your posts put me in mind of the BBC TV series Ripping Yarns (best episode: Across The Andes by Frog). With a bit of Evelyn Waugh thrown in, of course. I will be back. In the meantime, I have a port to decant. Enjoy the festive season at your stately pile.
It is 8 degrees and another blizzard here in a deserted Lake Michigan beach town so stumbled upon you in The Sartorialist; you are the last person I'd expect to find in Laguna Beach; I thought all LA area traditionalists were banished to Pasadena
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