Rejoicing in our history is pure joy
WE HAD a weekend away from dogs, gardening and family responsibilities, driving to the beautiful, underrated Midlands for a night away.
Apart from visiting friends, our two destinations were a disused mill in the Wyre Forest, then glorious Wightwick Manor (nationaltrust.org.uk/wight wick-manor-and-gardens) near Wolverhampton.
Someone recommended this Victorian gem (I love the architecture of the period, and I am a paid-up member of The Victorian Society, which tries to prevent short-sighted modernists from ruining our heritage) because it’s full of Pre-Raphaelite art. And it was wonderful.
As soon as we arrived, we signed up for the National Trust, calculating that a joint membership would make us go out to visit as many properties as possible in the coming year, to get our money’s worth!
We’ve decided short breaks are the way forward. A glance at a map of National Trust properties (not to mention English Heritage) makes you rejoice in this country and our history.
But it’s the present that’s on my mind as I write this, thinking of our visit to Wightwick. For on the Bank Holiday weekend it was busy, and there was a powerful sense that people of all ages and types share my feelings.
There were so many families there — grandparents and parents pointing out to children how people used to live, teenagers admiring sensual art, young couples hand-in-hand, kids playing with puzzles left out for them, people picnicking in the stunning gardens, a boy potting a ball (allowed) in the billiard room. This is what it’s all about.
These NT properties belong to us all — and it made me very happy to be a part of this.
It reminded me of Philip Larkin’s 1973 poem, Show Saturday. It describes a country show which epitomises traditional customs, and family and cultural values. It’s about something greater than the individual — which is why the last words, ‘Let it always be there’, move me deeply, like a prayer.
Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Scottish Daily Mail, 20 Waterloo Street, Glasgow G2 6DB, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. A pseudonym will be used if you wish. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.