Our previous visit, a couple of years back, to Cragside – the wonderful Victorian-era National Trust property in Northumberland – inspired numerous kinky thoughts. A return trip over Easter proved similarly inspirational – even if the three lovely girls who accompanied me did seem to simultaneously roll their eyes heavenwards at various moments as I corrupted some entirely innocent feature of the tour!
The kitchens were a particular delight, with their description of the differing ranks of maid. At the foot of the ladder were scullery maids, such as 14-year-old Anne Crozier, earning £8 per year (equivalent to £400 today). More senior were kitchen maids, on £14. And they might in turn hope to progress to the lofty rank of housemaid, with their generous annual salary of £18. I pictured the butler, helpfully explaining to the more junior staff that he was only beating them to be helpful – for if their standards failed to improve, they couldn’t hope to achieve promotion.
We reached the dining room, in which a table would be pulled up before the fire on cold winter’s mornings. Who couldn’t imagine the master of the house asking for a pen and paper, and sending a note back, perched atop on his breakfast plate, complaining that (say) his eggs had been overcooked – and demanding that the maid concerned be dealt with?
On the stairs was a rather striking statue of a naked woman in chains. A notice explained that it was the owner’s way of protesting against slavery. Yeah, right. And how did he explain the nude, erotic, unchained statue opposite? Objecting to the high cost of clothes?
Moving on up, we reached the main bedroom. Adjacent to it was a small room with a single bed and a mannequin displaying a maid’s costume. I was immediately entranced by the idea of a “double room with en suite maid”; I think hotels should introduce this immediately. And the dusty bedcover suggested that she should be bent over for a caning immediately.
There was a uniform room. Yes, really. Enough said.
Next, to the picture gallery, built to mark a visit by the then Prince of Wales. I pictured him brushing against a sculpture, and finding a trace of dust dirtying his crisp white gloves. I pictured too the maid responsible, being soundly thrashed the following day after the royal party had departed.
And then into the gardens – with their “Talking Tree” scheme. The thought of the birch and hazel trees telling tales from days gone by filled me with eager anticipation – but sadly none of us could work out how the concept worked.
What do vanilla folks do when they’re visiting these places? For, surely, simply reading about the family history and looking earnestly at the paintings and furniture must be so boring…
Forsooth – are you equating vanilla with imaginatively challenged ? Maybe it’s the company I keep but there seems to be worlds of ways of perverting reality : )
I think that I would find reading about the family history and looking at the paintings in the house to be fascinating even in a vanilla sense…then again, the only thing I get to see or read most of the time is my darn college text books. Next to them, just about anything is interesting. LOL.
And that’s exactly what was missing in the TV series “Upstairs, Downstairs”
@Nic – oh, do tell what one can dream up in a country house *without* thinking of spanking!
@Lily Ann – but the family portraits are sometimes the most corruptable of all: the fourth Lord, known for his harsh treatment of the servants; the young Countess, so severely chastised by her husband for the unfortunate incident at dinner; the daughter of the house who’d squirmed so uncomfortably, just punished, as she sat for the portrait…
@Ordalie – agreed! I seem to have devoted a fair part of my life to recreating the missing scenes in that sort of environment!
@Abel – I’m too hopelessly corrupted delighted by the Birch Hotel and the Birch House BB we drove past coming back from Nymans. (couldn’t help wondering how they differentiated their offerings ?)
But try telling ghost stories when next you’re in a country house in a thunder storm or contemplating a priest’ s hole. And then of course the corridor of bedrooms has distinct possibilities !
If I remember correctly Cragside’s kitchen has many labour saving devices, including waterpowered automatic roasting spits. Perhaps they also considered a victoria style waterpowered automatic punishment system, to keep those maids in line.
Oooo, a water-drive paddling machine for the maids. What a wonderful idea!