Queen Victoria bought the Balmoral estate in 1848, and it later became the place where the Queen sought solace after Prince Albert’s early death, 160 years ago in December 1861. There were soon plans for monuments to the late Prince Consort, including the famous Albert Memorial in Hyde Park, but at Balmoral a huge hilltop pyramid was under construction only a few months after Albert’s death.

On 21 August 1862, on a bright day, Queen Victoria set off in her ‘little pony chair’ for the summit of a hill on her Balmoral estate. Accompanied by 6 of her 9 children she looked at the foundations of a ‘cairn to be erected to the memory of my precious Albert’. The chosen spot, at the top of the hill called Craig Lowrigan, had been chosen for its fine views, and also because it could be seen from a great distance.

Stones bearing their initials were laid by the Queen, her eldest son Albert, Prince of Wales (the future Edward VII) and her two youngest sons Arthur and Leopold. The youngest daughters Helena, Louise and Beatrice followed next. Stones were then laid on behalf of the three children who were not present: the two married daughters Victoria and Alice, and Alfred who was serving in the Royal Navy.

The Queen recorded her plans in her diary later that day: the cairn was to be 40 feet wide and 35 feet high, and the inscription to read:

TO
THE BELOVED MEMORY
OF
ALBERT,
THE GREAT AND GOOD:
PRINCE CONSORT,
ERECTED BY HIS
BROKEN-HEARTED WIDOW,
VICTORIA. R.
21ST AUGUST
1862.

HE, BEING MADE PERFECT IN A SHORT TIME,
FULFILLED A LONG TIME,
FOR HIS SOUL PLEASED THE LORD,
THEREFORE HASTED HE
TO TAKE
HIM AWAY FROM AMONG THE WICKED.
WISDOM OF SOLOMON,
CHAP IV. VERSES 13 AND 14.

The ‘large cairn of pyramidal shape’ was complete by May 1863,  when newspaper reports recorded the inscriptions in place, just as the Queen had planned. The biblical quotation, taken from the Apocrypha, incensed the evangelical Dr Candlish, a leading light in the newly-established Free Kirk, who believed (in brief) that it threw doubt ‘on the inspiration of the Bible’. Newspapers dismissed Candlish as a ‘frantic divine’, but the Queen was furious that the ‘beautiful inscription’ that she had so carefully chosen had been ‘shamefully attacked’.

For the rest of her life Queen Victoria visited her ‘beloved’s’ cairn whenever she was at Balmoral.

A number of other cairns in the grounds mark events such as the purchase of the estate, and the marriages of her children, but none can compete with the grandeur of Albert’s pyramid.

One newspaper recorded the completion of Albert’s Cairn with the prophecy that ‘this rude monument will form an object of deep interest to future visitors to the Highlands’. The cairn (also known as the ‘pyramid’) remains a popular destination for walkers, but the once bare hillside is now covered with trees, and the monument is no longer a major eyecatcher from the valley below. But the view from the monument remains superb.

There’s a steep climb up to the cairn from the Balmoral car-park at Crathie (no pony and cart for the Folly Flâneuse, sadly) but the monument and the view repay the effort. And as the Queen herself did in 1863, you can walk back ‘down the steep part with shaking and trembling knees’.

As ever, please scroll down to the comments box if you would like to share any thoughts, or add any information. Thanks for reading. The Folly Flâneuse is taking a short break, but will be back early in 2022

THE FOLLY FLANEUSE WISHES YOU A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS, AND HEALTH AND HAPPINESS IN 2022.

The palatial mansion of Wentworth Woodhouse, near Rotherham, is set in a landscape ornamented with towers and temples, pyramids and pavilions. One of the earliest is this slim, elegant structure pierced with an arch. Originally an eye-catcher, it later became an object on a drive to the house, but now once more stands alone on a swathe of green in a tranquil corner of the park.

Thomas Watson-Wentworth (1693-1750), created Baron Malton in 1728 (and then Earl of Malton 1734 and 1st Marquess of Rockingham 1746), kept a careful note of expenditure on his estate, and noted improvements in a volume which survives in the family archive. His summary of activity in 1722-1733 included the building of what was then known simply as ‘Obelisk in Lee Wood’, but was later nicknamed ‘the Needle’s Eye’ as apparently the slim arch was thought to resemble the eye of a needle.

The obelisk (remembering that obelisk and pyramid were used interchangeably in the 18th century for any tapering 3 or 4 sided structure) is shown on an engraving of 1728, so must therefore have been built between 1722 and 1728, making it the earliest of the fanciful erections in the vast park. It is contemporary with work on the Baroque west front, and predates the building of the great Palladian east front.

The square plantations of Lee Wood flanked the eye-catcher, and channeled views to the obelisk. One of the series of views of the estate painted for the family in the middle of the 18th century (private collection, not pictured), shows the tapering structure, cut through with a slim arch with woodland to each side. It could therefore only be seen from limited positions, and this is most likely why it was missed by many visitors, and is barely mentioned in contemporary accounts. A rare exception is the agriculturalist writer Arthur Young who visited in 1768  and saw ‘the arch’, which he thought was ‘raised as an object to decorate the view from the Ionic Temple’.

The Ionic Temple sits on the great terrace which was constructed in 1735-6 along the southern edge of the garden. So Young got it a little wrong, as the Needle’s Eye predates the Ionic Temple, but his account does back up contemporary map evidence that there was a vista between the two buildings, now sadly lost.

Towards the end of the 18th century the Needle’s Eye became a feature on a new drive from Rainborough Lodge on the northern edge of the estate (fans of geometry in gardens might be interested to know that Rainborough Lodge, the Needle’e Eye, North Lodge and the Ionic Temple can be linked with a dead straight line). Also known as the Lion Gate, because it features two large … stone lions, the lodge was built to a design by John Carr in the last years of the 18th century. It survives today, although the drive was later abandoned, leaving the obelisk once more as an isolated landscape feature.

By the time the first Ordnance Survey map was published the folly had become known as the ‘Needle’s Eye’, and is marked as such on the 1st series map of 1841. This was a fairly common nickname for structures cut through with an arch in the Victorian period, and was also used for a pyramidal lodge at Nostell Priory (see link below), and Thornhill Lodge at Calverley, both in Yorkshire.

In 1849 a group of excursionists (the name coined for groups taking day trips on the new railways) arrived at Darfield Station. They walked to the Rainborough Lodge, and on up to the ‘Needle’s Eye, an arabesque monument’, and took advantage of the seats inside the arch before exploring Wentworth. The prospectus for their excursion also tells that the pyramid was ‘surmounted by an earl’s coronet’. This description of the Needle’s Eye seems to have been taken from a piece published in the Leeds Mercury a few years earlier, and which remains something of a puzzle. The 1728 view shows it topped by an urn, and a decorative urn can be seen today. Was there once a coronet, or is the article simply mistaken? The mystery remains to be solved.

As ever, a seemingly useless landscape feature needs a good back story. Local legend tells that the building was erected so that the 1st Marquess of Rockingham could prove his boast that he could drive a carriage ‘through the eye of a needle’. Another version has it that guiding a horse and trap through the arch was a right of passage for young apprentices in the stable-yard, hoping to win promotion. No-one knows if there is truth in any of the tales, but they continue to entertain.

The grade II* listed Needle’s Eye is in the care of the Fitzwilliam Wentworth Amenity Trust, and was restored fairly recently. There is full access, courtesy of the trust, via a public footpath from Coaley Lane.

For the mansion and gardens at Wentworth Woodhouse https://wentworthwoodhouse.org.uk

For the follies in the care of the Fitzwilliam Wentworth Amenity Trust see https://wentworthestate.co.uk/visiting/monuments-follies/

Thank you for reading. Please scroll down to add any thoughts or comments. If you would like to receive a folly story each week, please click ‘subscribe’ and one will appear in your inbox each weekend.

In the early 1940s the artist Rex Whistler completed the illustrations for a book in his breaks from training with the Welsh Guards, working on the drawings in the army huts where he was stationed. The book was The Last of Uptake by Simon Harcourt-Smith, and the reviews agreed that here was ‘the perfect blend of artist and writer’.

Harcourt-Smith (1906-1982) was a former diplomat who wrote on a wide range of subjects, but The Last of Uptake is not typical of his work, as it started life as a lighthearted tale to entertain his wife who was in plaster after a car accident. Rosamund Harcourt-Smith (née Miller) was a society beauty, photographed by Beaton when her engagement was announced. She was known for her stylish outfits, so when Whistler (1905-1944) arrived to stay during this period he was offended by the standard crutches she was using to get about, and immediately set to work to design her a ‘princely pair, in a somewhat rococo taste’.

Simon Harcourt-Smith’s book tells the story of Uptake, a decaying stately home where the Ladies Tryphena and Deborah muddle by with a handful of ancient retainers. Their Palladian mansion is surrounded by a pleasure ground designed by perhaps William Kent, or Capability Brown, and dotted with follies and curiosities. These include a stepped pyramidal ice-house, a Chinese pavilion, a shell grotto, a hermit’s cave, sham Roman ruins, and automata such as a woodman who swings his axe at the turn of a key. When the sisters discover that their favoured heir has died, they decide upon drastic action and burn down the mansion.

The book jacket blurb makes clear that the story is a ‘fantastic confection’, dreamt up by Harcourt-Smith’, but he does write that parts are based on ‘legends’ told by his family and friends. One who might have sowed the seed of an idea is Edward Arthur Donald St George Hamilton Chichester, 6th Marquess of Donegall (1903-1975). Donegall sat in the House of Lords as Baron Fisherwick, a title taken from Fisherwick Hall, a former family seat in Staffordshire. Lord Donegall told his friend Harcourt-Smith the tale of how Fisherwick Hall was ‘inhabited by two maiden sisters who fell out and burned the house down’. It is true that the Marquess’s ancestors were forced to sell the Capability Brown designed Fisherwick house and park in around 1800 to settle debts, and it was demolished soon after, but there were no sisters, and no fire – and in fact no-one other than Donegal (who admitted his tale was ‘probably fictitious’) seems ever to have heard this myth.

Rex Whistler was in his element drawing such fantasy buildings. He loved follies and garden ornament, and favourites such as the Boycott Pavilions at Stowe, and the Palladian Bridge at Wilton, made regular appearances in his work. Part of the fun of the book is trying to figure out the British houses and gardens which might have influenced the text and pictures (track down a copy and try it for yourself). One may even have been fictional: Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca had been a huge success when published only a couple of years earlier, with its haunting description of Manderley in flames.

The Last of Uptake was published by Batsford, and as well as the standard copy there was a deluxe version in a limited edition of 100. This was printed on handmade paper, and signed by the author and illustrator. The book was well-received in the press, but the ‘delightful piece of literary embroidery’ was overshadowed by war. In 1967 Solstice Productions of London reissued the book with a foreword by Rebecca West. She wrote that The Last of Uptake ‘has long been a treasure of mine, and I have always thought it a great misfortune that it failed to be recognised as a classic because it was published during the war’.

Of course the greatest tragedy was that Whistler himself never knew how much pleasure his illustrations gave to readers. He was killed in action in Normandy in 1944, and as Harcourt-Smith wrote in July 1945, it was not easy to think of ‘resuming the round of peace without him’.

Rex Whistler’s original drawings for The Last of Uptake are in the collection of the National Trust at Plas Newydd on Anglesey, where the dining room features an enchanting Rex Whistler mural  https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/plas-newydd-house-and-garden

Apologies to regular readers who were confused to receive last week’s post a day early. This was for reasons of logistics and normal service has been resumed! If you would like to share any thoughts on this post please do get in touch via the comments box below. Thank you for reading, and if you would like to receive a folly story in your inbox every Saturday morning, please visit the Subscribe page.

High in Hampshire stands this imposing monument. It marks the resting place of a heroic horse, which managed not only to survive a leap into a deep pit, rider intact, but went on to win a great race the following year. That rider was Paulet St John (1704-1780) of Farley Chamberlayne. Alongside his sporting exploits, he found time to be a Member of Parliament and Mayor of Winchester, and was rewarded in 1772 when he became Sir Paulet St John, baronet.

But to go back forty years to 1733: when out ‘a foxhunting’ St John misjudged the terrain and found himself leaping into a chalk pit which was 25 feet deep. Somehow, neither man nor mount was injured, and the horse went on to win the Hunters’ Plate at Winchester the following year. The tale, as told on the monument, is that St John celebrated his lucky escape by entering the horse in the race under the name of ‘Beware Chalk Pit’, although a diligent writer in the Sporting Magazine of 1840 searched back in the records and concluded that the horse was actually better known as a chestnut called (unimaginatively) Foxhunter.

Exact dates for the death of the horse, and the erection of what became known locally as ‘the ‘Horse Monument’, seem to be lost. The mound on which it stands is thought to be Bronze Age, but with modern interventions, and it was once the site of a beacon. Most sources suggest the monument was built in 1795, but as this was 15 years after St John died it must be earlier, and almost certainly before 1772, as the inscription does not record St John’s baronetcy. On Taylor’s 1759 map of Hampshire the site is marked as ‘Beacon Hill’, but no building is indicated (although frustratingly this doesn’t mean it wasn’t there). However by 1791 when Milne’s map of the county was made, ‘Beacon Hill’ is shown complete with a building on the summit. By the time the 1st series Ordnance Survey map was published in the 1810s the building had become known as the ‘Farley Monument’.

In 1863 the monument was described as ‘somewhat dilapidated’ and it was covered with graffiti as a result of ‘vulgar Vandalism’ (presumably it had stood strong against the weather, because of course in Hampshire hurricanes hardly ever happen…). It was restored by the Rt Hon Sir William Heathcote, Bt, of Hursley in 1870, and it seems that it was actually more of a rebuild than a repair. In 1846 it was described as a ‘miniature pyramid’ and an engraving published in 1861 (above) shows a cube with a pyramid roof, much simpler and squatter in form than the current structure. A most unexpected source, of which more later, described it in 1848 as ’20 feet high’, whereas the present pyramid reaches over 32 feet (10m).

Post-restoration, the cube base had disappeared and an elegant elongated pyramid had appeared in its place. There are porches on each face: one contains an entrance and the other three are blank. Inside a room was constructed so ‘way-farers and picnic parties may rest and be thankful’. Heathcote replaced the original inscription with two plaques (one inside, one on the exterior), adding for posterity his own role in the building:

UNDERNEATH LIES BURIED
A HORSE
THE PROPERTY OF PAULET ST JOHN ESQ
THAT IN THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER 1733 LEAPED
INTO A CHALK PIT TWENTYFIVE
FEET DEEP A FOXHUNTING
WITH HIS MASTER ON HIS BACK.
AND IN OCTOBER 1734 HE WON THE
HUNTERS PLATE ON WORTHY DOWNS
AND WAS RODE BY HIS OWNER
AND ENTERED IN THE NAME OF
“BEWARE CHALK PIT”
—–
THE ABOVE BEING THE WORDS OF
THE ORIGINAL INSCRIPTION
WERE RESTORED BY THE RT HON.
SIR WILLIAM HEATHCOTE BARONET
SEP.  A. D. 1870

The monument was nicely summarised by John Rayner in the 1937 Shell Guide to Hampshire as a ‘strange manifestation of the English spirit, combining hippo mania and the almost invariably successful grandeur of follies’.

The monument needs regular maintenance. It was restored in 1950, and again at the beginning of the current century, when the question of whether it was actually an equine mausoleum (which it had been called since at least 1798), was raised. A basic investigation found no trace of the horse, but it did confirm that the building had been constructed in ‘two phases’. This restoration involved stripping off the old render and removing and replacing the decayed outer skin of brickwork. Once rebuilt the pyramid was re-rendered with lime mortar and painted. In 2014 further renovation and repainting was required to keep the monument looking its best. Since the early 1970s the surrounding land has been a country park with the grade II listed monument dominating the landscape.

But to return to the unlikely source of the measurement of the tower: in 1848 a Geometry and Mechanics examination paper for the Winchester Diocesan Training School, asked the following question: ‘The “Horse Monument” on Farley Mount is a pyramid of brick-work 20 feet high, built upon a mound 30 feet high; supposing the materials to weigh 8 tons, how many units of work were expended in raising them from the foot of the mound to their present position?’

If that’s too taxing, have a listen to a brief 1937 clip about the folly on Pathé News. Having sneaked Professor Henry Higgins into the text earlier, he would surely have approved of the clipped pronunciation of “Hempshire” https://www.britishpathe.com/video/horse-monument/query/Farley

The fabulous colour photos used here are all courtesy of John Malaiperuman, the conservation architect who led the 2014 restoration. You can see more of his work here http://johnmal.com/farley-mount/

For Farley Mount Country Park  https://www.visit-hampshire.co.uk/things-to-do/farley-mount-country-park-p1414861

1814 saw the centenary of the ascension of the House of Hanover to the British throne. Although it was only a few years since George III had celebrated a reign of 50 years, it was decided that a grand national fête would be held in August to mark the occasion, an event which would also commemorate ‘General Peace’ and the anniversary of the ‘Glorious Battle of the Nile’.

The whole of the pageantry in St James’ Park was superintended by Sir William Congreve M.P.; his prowess developing rockets for warfare in the earlier years of the century presumably qualifying him to design the pyrotechnics. The centrepiece was a vast stage-set ‘castle’ which thanks to painted transparencies, lighting and fireworks dramatically transformed from a martial fortress into a Temple of Concord, illustrating Britain’s path from war to peace. The vignettes above illustrate the spectacles and festivities that drew huge crowds to the park.

Another showpiece was the ‘beautiful Chinese bridge’ that was built over the canal. On it was constructed an ‘elegant and lofty pagoda, consisting of seven pyramidal stories’. It was illuminated with gaslights and formed the centrepiece of a huge fireworks display ‘both fixed and missile.’ The canal was the scene of mock naval battles, and there were also pleasure craft in which the public could view the scene from the water. Bands played, and there were food stalls and magnificent marquees in which to dine. Such was the excitement around the celebrations that publishers took presses to the park to issue some prints on the spot.

Sadly timber buildings, fireworks and flaming gas lamps are not good companions, and as midnight approached the pagoda went up in flames, causing two deaths and a number of injuries to the men who were supervising the display. By the time the fire was extinguished the tower was reduced to only one storey and had become ‘a melancholy wreck of its former elegance’. Print makers were quick to issue a reworked view showing the conflagration.

The pagoda was not rebuilt, the bridge was taken down a few years later, and the temporary structures were largely forgotten until the late 1960s when the artist Barbara Jones was asked to design a mural for a new cafe in St. James’ Park. The Cake House, which replaced an earlier cafe of the same name, was designed by Eric Bedford of the Ministry of Public Buildings and Works, and the cafe deliberately echoed the shape of the marquees erected in 1814.

For the interior Jones created a design for a mural based on the history of the park, with the ornamental buildings of the Grand Jubilee playing a major part. Another of the themes was cows, which traditionally had been kept in the park to provide milk for visitors.

According to Building magazine the mural was executed in ceramic tiles by ‘Richard Parkinson Associates’, presumably the Richard Parkinson better known as a creator of ceramic figures in partnership with his wife, Susan. This company name appears only in this magazine feature of 1970, so the associates were probably Parkinson, Jones, and her assistant Tony Raymond. They were apparently credited in the cafe, but like the rest of the mural this is long gone. The thick file on the building of the cafe, now held in the National Archives, contains a memo which notes only that the interior wall is to be ‘finished in blue mosaic tiles’. No designer or contractor for this work is mentioned.

The refreshment pavilion was officially opened by Mary Wilson, wife of Prime Minister Harold, in February 1970 (apparently she took daily walks in the park whilst resident at No. 10). The blue and white tiles were accentuated by white pedestal tables and fashionable polypropylene stacking chairs in charcoal, light grey and deep blue. Featured in The Daily Mirror a few days after opening the mural was ignored, although the exterior (‘looks like a rather gay tent’) was admired. The queues for the new-fangled self-service system did not go down well, and the reviewer was not impressed by the ‘lukewarm’ soup, or indeed the gateau which was ‘a bit mushy’.

The Cake House survived for more years than the pagoda, but by the end of the 20th century it was considered outmoded with ‘insurmountable functional and structural issues’, and was demolished to make way for Inn the Park, which opened in 2004.

Building within a historic park has always led to criticism. In 1969, as the Cake House was under construction, the Architects’ Journal thought the structure ‘far too intrusive’ for its location in the gardens. In 1998 Sir Michael Hopkins designed its replacement, Inn the Park. The Architects’ Journal reported that it too was ‘wholly unsuited to the site’ but thirty years on, fashion being fickle, the old Cake House was now remembered with fondness for fitting into ‘the landscape as a folly or surprise’.

Big thanks to artist Ed Kluz whose recent show at the John Martin Gallery in London featured the Pagoda bridge and awakened my interest. Read more here https://www.jmlondon.com/exhibitions/facades-by-ed-kluz/

Barbara Jones’s series of designs for the Cake House mural can be seen at Neil Jennings Fine Art’s forthcoming show of works of art on paper by Twentieth Century British women artists at Fisher London, Grays Inn Road Wednesday 20th November- Saturday 30th November 11am-6pm (closed Sunday). For further information follow Neil on instagram @neiljenningsfineart or email neiljennings20@gmail.com

For more on the history of London’s public parks there’s a new show at the charming Garden Museum from 20 November 2019 https://gardenmuseum.org.uk/exhibitions/play-protest-and-pelicans-a-peoples-history-of-londons-royal-parks/

Inn the Park remains but is now a branch of the Benugo chain https://www.benugo.com/partnerships/public-spaces/parks/st-jamess

Not folly, but definitely landscape ornament, The Folly Flâneuse was surprised  to find two ziggurats on a recent damp, but exhilarating, jaunt to East Anglia. Built more than two centuries apart, both were influenced by the architecture of Mesopotamia where the ziggurat was a temple in the form of a stepped pyramid, each level raising it closer to heaven. 

The earlier structure was built in around 1790 by Samuel Boycatt and takes the form of a most unusual church tower. Boycatt was the rector of St Mary’s and is said to have rebuilt the church tower, in the form of a stepped ziggurat pyramid, based on a drawing sent home from Mesopotamia by his son William, who was on the Grand Tour. The tower was to be the family mausoleum, but also proclaimed the importance of the family from afar and became a landmark for sailors on the River Waveney which passes close to the church. The Boycatt name had become Boycott by 1841, and entered the British language soon after when William’s descendant, Charles Cunningham Boycott, increased the rent of tenants on the Irish estate he managed. In response he was ostracised, or as it came to be known, boycotted.

Further north is Gunton Park, a wonderful estate with stunning mansion, Robert Adam church, and acres of deer park. It is also home to one of The Folly Flâneuse’s favourite hostelries, The Gunton Arms. Owned and restored by art dealer Ivor Braka, it is furnished with an amazing selection of artworks from his collection. There are pieces outside in the park too; deer saunter nonchalantly past a lone Gormley figure, and show little interest in a Caro. Often a group can be seen close to a Sol LeWitt structure, a five metre high four sided pyramid built of concrete blocks. LeWitt designed a number of such structures from the 1960s onwards and, like Boycott, drew some inspiration from ancient Mesopotamia.

The Folly Flâneuse does not usually address matters of exact location in these pages, as the thrill of the chase is an essential component of folly-spotting, but in this case a word of warning is required. Check a map. Burgh St Peter parish church is not in the village of the same name but a good two miles away.

James Wyatt produced plans for a ‘Saxon Hexagon Tower’ for the 6th Earl of Coventry in the last years of the 18th century. After his death in 1809 it was sold and over the following centuries it became the home of a printing workshop, a retreat for members of the pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and a farmhouse. In 1974 it became the centrepiece of a country park, and it remains so today.

Of course nothing you have read above is news. Broadway tower is one of the best loved follies in Britain, having appeared in countless films and tv programmes. The very flexible tower has even featured in a recent advertisement for property developer Aldermore.

The reason The Folly Flâneuse is featuring it here is because without this tower there would not be the book that is by every folly-spotters side: Follies, Grottoes & Garden Buildings.

Broadway Tower captured Gwyn Headley’s imagination as a child and he remained passionate about the subject, first publishing a book about follies in 1986 with Dutchman Wim Meulenkamp as co-author. In FG&GB they updated their original research and presented it in a gazetteer format, so that the book is fabulously user-friendly. 2019 sees the twentieth anniversary of its publication, and The Folly Flâneuse thinks this is a cause for celebration. Cheers!

Gwyn is shown above, aged 5,  looking loathe to leave Broadway Tower. Wim’s introduction to the genre came aged 13 when he was intrigued by the sham wooden bridge at Kenwood, near London.

When studying at Utrecht University in the 1970s, Wim took a module on the English landscape park and headed to the library to write a paper on Rousham. On the shelves he discovered Barbara Jones’s Follies and Grottoes and he too was hooked.

His doctoral subject was Mad Jack Fuller, creator of these wonderful follies at Brightling in Sussex, and he recalls that ‘whilst everyone else did their postgraduate theses on colour schemes in Siennese painting 1535-1560, and the like, we actually had inordinate fun.’

A mere two decades later Gwyn Headley and Wim Meulenkamp are working on a new book – good things come to those who wait. In the meantime, you can hear Gwyn and Wim talk at an event organised by The Folly Fellowship in London this autumn. Final details are to be confirmed but keep checking the website for details http://follies.org.uk/index.php/this-year/

More on the Broadway Tower here https://broadwaytower.co.uk

The sham bridge at Kenwood has just emerged from restoration https://www.hamhigh.co.uk/news/environment/kenwood-house-sham-bridge-restoration-almost-finished-1-5874808

Ed Kluz, who kindly shared his photos of Brightling is an internationally acclaimed artist whose work often features follies. Visit his website or follow him on instagram @edkluz https://www.edkluz.co.uk. He will reappear in these pages before too long.