Story Search Results

Hoar Cross Hall - Life below stairs

HOAR CROSS Hall – LIFE BELOW STAIRS:       This week I’ve done a history blog about the servants who lived at the Hall from the 1870s to the 1950s, when the Hall became empty.  They were an essential part of keeping a big house running but were often not appreciated by the aristocracy as they went about their day to day duties. The life of a servant in Victorian times was a hard one.  They had to rise at 5am to clean and light all the fires and dust and polish the floors, then do a day’s work, often not getting to bed much before midnight.  No wonder they didn’t live to a great age in those days!  By the end of the 19th century there were nearly...

Mediaeval Mayhem! #13

It was the end of the summer season at Hoar Cross Hall in 1973 and rehearsals had started for the new venture of Mediaeval Banquets. all the cast would come round to the house each week for rehearsals and my mum and one or two other ladies were busy making the skirts and blouses for the wenches. My mum also made about 200 bibs which the guests were going to be wearing as eating five courses with a dagger can be quite messy! We had a King, a Jester, a Fire-eater, a Halberdier, an organist and various wenches and serving ladies. To launch the banquets my parents decided to hold a Press Reception about a month before and so we all gathered at the Hall one day in ea...

Moving On - the end of an era #32

MOVING ON – THE END OF AN ERA:       and so, after ten years of growing up and living in a stately home, I have come to the end of my story. After my parents’ divorce it was agreed that my mum bought out my dad's half of the house and he had to leave his dream home forever. He and Gavin moved out to live in Burton-on-Trent and my mum carried on running Mediaeval Banquets for a few more years. She and the singer eventually got together much to my dad’s chagrin. The singer spent a lot more time at the Hall helping my mum run the banquets; however, Piers didn’t really get on with him. When he was about 14 years old my dad received a phone call from Pier...

Motor Racing Days #9

MOTOR RACING DAYS:            Although my blogs are about living at Hoar Cross Hall, I would just like to give a bit of background about my dad’s racing career in the years leading up to moving to the Hall as this will set the scene for later instalments of my story. As mentioned in my first blog my dad used to be a racing driver but he actually started off racing motor cycles in the 1930s.   Because of this he became a despatch rider during the Second World War and spent a lot of time in North Africa.  After the war he started racing at nearby Donington Park and he raced there up to the beginning of the 1950s.  After that he moved onto cars and dr...

Moving on - the end of an era #33

MOVING ON - THE END OF AN ERA:          and so I come to the end of my story.  After ten years of living in a stately home,  my parents’ divorce agreement meant that my dad had to be bought out by my mum and he had to leave his dream home forever.  He and Gavin moved out to live in Burton-on-Trent and my mum carried on running Mediaeval Banquets for a few more years.  She and the singer eventually got together much to my dad’s chagrin.  The singer spent a lot more time at the Hall helping my mum run the banquets; however, Piers didn’t really get on with him.  When he was about 14 years old my dad received a phone call from Piers – he had run...

A New Year Calamity! #75

The New Year’s Eve Ball at Hoar Cross Hall was usually the highlight of the year.  After twelve months of hard work, especially running the Mediaeval Banquets twice a week through the winter, we were always ready to see out the year in style with a big new year party.  In those days it was always black tie for the men and long dresses for the ladies – usually around 500 people bought tickets for an evening of entertainment with a dance band, disco and a meal.  At midnight a man dressed in traditional Scottish regalia, including a kilt and sporran, would pipe in the new year with his bagpipes.  Down the Long Gallery he would slowly walk and into the Ballr...