MY HUSBAND is currently preoccupied with the Open Championship at
Muirfield and he is probably, at this very moment, lurking around the
club house bar.
I cannot begin to remember when he last played golf. Like myself, Old
Camperdown is more at home with a ghillie than a caddie, but after the
Christie's Scotland auction on Thursday, he got very excited about
feathery golf balls. If one knew about such matters, one could probably
find some Freudian explanation for this, but, as I keep reassuring
myself, many of one's friends do have odd little acquisitive habits.
And -- heaven forbid -- if one should ever have to open the house to
the public on a regular basis, it is not such a bad thing to have a few
quaint little somethings to show off.
The usual business, of course, is to have historic memorabilia; you
know, uniforms, armoury, swords and pistols. At Dalmeny, the Earl and
Countess of Rosebery's South Queensferry home, they have various
paintings of Napoleon, his writing desk with chairs and his shaving
stand.
At Broomhall, near Dunfermline, the Earl of Elgin and Kincardine has
two of Robert the Bruce's teeth in a test-tube, and there are so many
locks of Prince Charles Edward Stuart's hair in existence that he must
have been completely bald as a consequence.
Childhood items are always appealing. At Finlaystone House, Langbank,
Jane MacMillan of MacMillan, apart from her Celtic enthusiasms, has a
thrilling display of dolls; similarly, the Hon Gerald Maitland Carew has
amassed a large collection of period toys at Thirlestane Castle, Lauder.
At Stevenson House, Haddington, Aline Dunlop has a blissful old doll's
house.
One fad I am not at all comfortable with, however, is stuffed birds.
The last time I was at Floors Castle, there was a large heron on the
lawn and I was positive that I had just seen one of it's relatives in
the William Playfair room inside. Before they vacated Glentruim, near
Kingussie, Ewan and Sandra Macpherson's hallway was packed with lifeless
specimens of the feathered variety and, at Megginch Castle, in
Perthshire, Lady Strange has a whole room set aside for them. I often
wonder if Humphrey, her husband, re-stocks it when he goes on the river
with his punt gun.
CONTEMPORARY paintings, of course, are not everybody's cup of tea.
Most of us, after all, already have far too many old masters about the
place. But, as I always say, even Henry Raeburn was modern in his day.
At Brodie Castle, Forres, the Brodie of Brodie has some splendid
British watercolours alongside contemporary works, all acquired by him
and Violet, his late wife, for under #25. The one I like best is the
watercolour by James McIntosh Patrick who lives near Dundee and whose
son, Andrew, runs the Fine Art Society in London and is the most
charming of individuals, although I am still terribly cross with him for
closing down the Edinburgh gallery.
In Ayrshire, Jamie Hunter Blair at Blairquhan and Alex and Cecilia
McEwen at Bardrochat, have impressive twentieth century collections. At
Lord Macfarlane's home in Bearsden, they hang floor to ceiling.
Also in Ayrshire, before the family abandoned Hunterston House (next
door to the nuclear electricity-generating station), I remember the
Hunters' daughter, Pauline, showing me gowns from their fabulous costume
wardrobe which, at the time, she was busy cataloguing with the National
Museum of Scotland.
Personally, I am a trifle perplexed about Camperdown's obsession with
feather-filled balls. They are not exactly pretty to look at and,
indeed, I was using one for putting in the garden until I read somewhere
that it was probably worth #15,000. We already have several grey and
white ones and now have two red ones, all dating from the early
nineteenth century. They are stuffed with either chicken or goose
feathers and have leather outer cases sewn up with rope.
On Monday, at the Sotheby's sale at Loretto School, Camperdown decided
not to bid the Dutch old master portrait of the boy golfer wearing a
dress. Instead, he returned with some c1525 golf heads and a rather
unusually shaped stick. Not so long ago I purchased a hilarious golfing
cartoon by a nice young chap called Hugh Dodd and I have recently found
some lovely green antique serge satin which will make a superb lining
for a handsome little display case.
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