Wednesday
Aug152012

The Semi-Naked MP, the Gardener and Heidi Fleiss  

AUGUST 15TH 

It was a hot and beautiful Tuesday yesterday; a good chance - or so I thought - for the team here to get out their smart navy Upton Cressett sea-dragon motif tee-shirts I have had printed for Pedro, my part-time gardener, and my housekeeper, to wear for official Upton Cressett house opening duties. 

The exception to the Upton Cressett tee-shirt rule is my father, Bill Cash MP. Aged 72, he prefers to dispense with any clothing on his upper torso when the sun is out and walks around the garden - even on open days (Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday) - wearing only a pair of tennis shorts, sun glasses and a Moroccan style red velvet cap with tassles dangling down.

This garb applies even when we have groups of smart WASPY American 'art tour' visitors; no doubt they would be astonished to know that the sixteen stone figure walking around the garden sans shirt, or even tee-shirt, is a long standing Member of Parliament. 

But if semi-naked parliamentarian flesh isn't a bad enough unexpected sight for our house visitors, then my gardener's new choice of working uniform could leave them reeling - especially any Americans.  Around 4pm yesterday afternoon, I was stopped in my sartorial tracks when I saw that Pedro was mowing the gatehouse lawn wearing a white tee-shirt with the words 'Call 1-800-PRO-VICE' printed on the back.

Yes, that's right. A tee-shirt screaming out 'Pro Vice'. When I tapped Pedro on the shoulder and he turned around, I saw that the front of the tee-shirt had 'Heidi Wear' emblazoned in thick lipstick red print. 

There was also what seemed to be child's handwriting on the white tee-shirt, written in a black felt pen. I assumed it was some doodling by my sister's children - aged 5 and 11 respectively - who happen to be staying right now for the summer holidays.

This certainly wasn't a new line of Upton Cressett approved clothing wear. At first I couldn't work out what the 'Call 1-800-Pro-Vice' tee-shirt was on about and then it suddenly clicked: the tee-shirt had been given to me personally back in the late 1990s by the famous Hollywood call girl madam, Heidi Fleiss - the Madam Claude of 90's LA, whose famous list of clients in her little black book which were said to include the likes of Charlie Sheen, and most of the Hollywood A list establishment. Her best friend was Victoria Sellars, daughter of the late Peter Sellars. To her credit, Fleiss never disclosed the actual names, saying grassing her VIP clients up 'wasn't her style'.

What Fleiss had in common with the French 1960s brothel queen Madame Claude (her real name was Fernande Grudet and she was brought up by nuns) was that both ended up going to prison not for running brothels but for tax evasion. After working for the French Resistance during the German Occupation of France during World War II, she became famous for her network of beautiful French call girls who serviced French politicians, louche aristos, the Mafia, and senior French police officers. She fled to America to escape Paris tax investigators but certainly did not end up being reduced to opening up a sports bikini or sportswear shop.

I was given the tee-shirt by Heidi Fleiss not as a former client, I hasten to add. But rather as a 'goodie bag' gift when I went to interview Fleiss after she got out of jail - she was jailed for seven years in 1996 but only served 20 months - and opened up a sports wear boutique in Santa Monica. I visited her shop and wrote the interview for The Telegraph, years ago, when I was working for The Telegraph as their US Special Correspondent.

The black felt tip writing was actually a tee-shirt dedication to me in Heidi's own hand. Whilst authors sign the front page of books before handing them out as gifts, Fleiss signed her tee-shirts. I dont think her sportswear boutique lasted very long. The Fleiss tee-shirt somehow ended up travelling with me in the bottom of a suitcase from LA to Upton Cressett when I moved back to England around 1999. I assume my mother had given it to Pedro a few days ago after emptying out one of the garages last week. Its unusual provenance must make the tee-shirt something of a Hollywood Memoribiia collector's item, although I'm not sure the Christie's representative for Shropshire would be that excited if I called up to say I had a 'paint soiled but signed original 1999 Heidi Fleiss tee-shirt' to consign to the next Autograph Sale at King Street.

So what happened to Heidi Fleiss? And where is she now? In her media hey day - in the mid 1990s - she was one of the most famous celebrities in America. Following her failed sportswear line, she then produced an 'instructional' DVD titled 'Sex Tips with Heidi Fleiss and Victoria Sellers' in 2001. According to the web, following the demise of her clothing boutique, Fleiss moved to Nevada, outside Las Vegas, where she came to live in solitude in Death Valley while caring for 25 parrots. That Heidi's fame has burnt out along with the rest of her life was confirmed when I took a photo of Pedro wearing my signed Fleiss 'collectors tee-shirt' and my young part time gardener confessed to never having heard of her.

I notice that the 2012 Hudson's Heritage Awards - which Spear's are co-sponsoring - have a category that covers historic house branding. Perhaps I should send in a photograph of my part-time Upton Cressett team decked out in Heidi Fleiss tee-shirts with the words 'Vice 1580' - the date the medieval manor was encased in brick by Richard Cressett - on the back. 

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Saturday
Aug112012

Hawkstone Hall Heaven - for £5 million

SATURDAY, AUGUST 10th

I sometimes get moans from friends - usually rich friends that have a nice house in Chelsea or Notting Hill as well as an expensive cottage, or unpretentious farmhouse-style country house - that the reason they don't move to somewhere grander in the shires is that anything decent, like a Grade 1 Georgian mansion with plenty of parkland, is 'impossible to find'; or, if there are more than 300 acres or so, such an estate is 'impossibly expensive'.

Both gripes are probably true. Certainly, in Shropshire, in the last few years, the few rare country house estates with decent houses have gone for funny money. The best example was Shakenhurst Hall, (photo right) an ancient 1,300 acre estate near Cleobury Mortimer which had been in one family for nearly 1,000 years. When it was sold two years ago - for around £13 million, about £1 million over the guide price - it was the first time the estate or house had ever been offered for sale. The estate is said to have been granted to a French baron by William the Conqueror and was later gifted to a John de Maysey by King Edward III in 1349. When the estate came on the market, local TV crews descended on the house and interest was fuelled by a double spread in the Daily Mail.

Another recent example was Chyknell Hall, near Claverley, not far from Wolverhampton, which was sold for only the second time in its nearly 200-year history. I knew the beautiful Regency house - built in 1815 by John Haycock - as a young boy as I was at school with the two sons of the owners Simon and Mary Kenyon-Slaney. Chyknell boasted 360 acres of land surrounding it, including 96 acres of Shropshire woodland and another 509 acre sporting estate. Once again, when it was offered to the market at £6 million, the local media and buying agents from across the country descended like feverish locusts.

No spread in the Mail this time but something probably more useful from a potential sales view: seventy nine year old Simon Kenyon-Slaney, wearing a natty tweed jacket, and definitely a member of the 'Shropshire Old Guard' set suddenly found himself - and his wife Mary - splashed across the cover of 'Wolverhampton Life' magazine. That's being a nearly eighty year old cover boy for the Tatler of Shropshire. Next the near octoganarian found himself - along with a full page photo spread of his formal gardens (by Russell Page) and 18th century colonnaded drawing room and entrance hall - see photo below right  - being plastered over the Express & Star newspaper talking about their 'sadness' at leaving as they downsized. Simon is the sort of man whom I doubt has ever felt any desire to be interviewed by a magazine in is his eighty year life.

Still the publicity firestorm worked. Again, the estate went - to a rich farmer - for above the £6 million asking price. The competition was quite fierce. One thirtysomething Shropshire born millionaire entrepreneur was on the point of entering the bidding war when he decided to do some due diligence by parking his car outside the gates and checking the early evening traffic noise from locals as the estate is only about seven miles from the outskirts of Wolverhampton. He ended up not bidding not because of the noise - but rather, as his father told me at dinner, 'he could see the street lights from Wolverhampton gloaming in the dark'.

Two weeks ago, another 'historic estate' in Shropshire hit the local Shropshire Star headlines, along with a visit by Midlands Today TV crew. This time the house is the Grade I Georgian mansion of Hawkstone Hall, in the village of Marchamley, near Shrewsbury. After seeing the sweeping grand Georgian entrance facade on the local TV news, and hearing that it had once been owned by the Duke of Wellington's deputy at the Battle of Waterloo, I called up the local estate agents, Barbers. They arranged a viewing for that afternoon. 

It would take a lot to ever get me to move from Upton Cressett but I have a high profile friend who has asked me to 'scout out' any serious country houses that come up for sale in Shropshire/Herefordshire/Worcestershire - if I ever hear of anything fresh to market. Within 20 minutes of my call to Barbers, an electronic brochure arrived by email. Well, the brochure doesnt do anything like justice to this jewel of a Baroque mansion. 

Hawkstone Hall (photo at top of blog) is on at £5 million, which includes two cottages cottages and 88 acres. This includes extensive parkland, farmland and 7 acres of landscaped formal gardens, as wel as a vast (derelict) walled kitchen garden the size of the Greenwich Olympics Equestrian arena (the horses I saw grazing weren't quite up to Blueberry Gold standard). Next to the walled garden is a huge pond surrounded by rhododendron bushes  that would not look out of place in St James's Park. Hawkstone is currently owned by the Redemptorists - an order of Catholic priests who have decided that they need to sell. 

The imposing brick mansion comes with a large chapel to the side built in the 1930s - which could be converted into an indoor swimming pool and spa, huge cinema room or indoor cricket arena - as well as a ghastly brick 'residential wing', complete with refectory cafeteria, lifts and conference room, that was tacked on in the 1960s. I was glad to hear that English Heritage have indicated they would have no problem with having the entire 1960s wing demolished.

The last country house I checked out as a 'scout' was called Brockhampton House, see photo right, a Grade II * Georgian mansion near Bringsty, on the Herefordshire/Worcestershire border. I didn't like it very much for a variety of reasons. It was far too big at nearly 22,000 sq.foot; it was owned by the National Trust, who were only offering a 110 year long lease. This meant there could be limitations on what one could do to the house internally from a renovation point of view (because of the National Trust rather than because of the Grade II * listed status); and worst of all there were a medley of National Trust owned cottages and converted outbuildings with sitting tenants within summer BBQ ghetto-blasting distance of your Georgian mansion - in other words no privacy.

Even more off-putting was the fact that prospective buyers had to take their shoes off and walk around with plastic bags over their socks. The current National Trust lease had been bought by an Asian millionaire who had 'Asian-ified' the best parts of the house, so that the old Georgian floorboards and corridors had been ripped out and replaced with shiny polished tiles that made it feel like a cross between a Sikh temple and a Singapore hospital. There were TV rooms everywhere, along with fitted bookcases, and wardrobes that would have been more in keeping with a mansion on Hampstead's Bishop's Avenue, or some tacky Ascot millionaire's row house with electric gates and a giant Jacuzzi in the underground swimming pool.

The Brockhampton Estate went back to the thirteenth Century but it was now a sepulchral hi-tech temple. The original estate remained in the hands of descendants of the Brockhampton family until it passed to the Habington family. In 1545 Richard Habington's daughter Mary, married Thomas Barneby and it remained in their family until the mid Twentieth Century. Despite its look of 'grandeur' from the website and brochure, it had clearly been on the market a while - years I think by the time I showed up in my battered old Saab. I hardly looked like a prospective buyer - but the Jackson-Stopps agent was a civilised chap (tweed suited on a warm day) and frankly I think he was relieved he could report back that there was a viewing at all. It had originally been on at £5 million - but now it was any-offers-considered-time. That was about six months ago. I called this morning and, yep, it's still for sale. Now at £3.75m. 

The moment I walked into Brockhampton House, which was built in the 1760s by Shrewsbury based architect Thomas Farnolls Pritchard, I felt an odd sense of deja vu as the house is the twin architectural double - only much larger - of Hatton Grange, near Shifnal. Hatton is another Georgian masterpiece in Shropshire, with the estate now owned by Rupert Kenyon-Slaney family (cousins of the Chyknell Kenyon-Slaneys).

Hatton is actually much superior architecturally and remains very much a family estate with its fine shooting estate very much as it was when it was laid out in the 19th century - including the famous Hell Pools drive which ice over in the snow causing the pheasants to smash down onto the frozen ice and then slide across the lake like ice hockey pucks.

Although surrounded by 1200 acres of National Trust land, Brockhampton House only comes with 8 acres of its own gardens. Another serious minus point for anybody wanting a private stately country pile. Nice Tuscan-style entrance lodge though - but you couldn't even put your Mum or housekeeper there. More sitting tenants in there as well.

Hawkstone Hall, which was the seat of the aristocratic and dissolute Hill family for nearly 350 years, is a very different sort of house. It is a grand William and Mary mansion with Palladian wings and a Venetian 'saloon' that was added in the 1720s. It comes freehold, with nearly 90 acres - 63 of agricultural land - which is the sort of entry level land requirement for what is, in short, a very serious Georgian stately home.

Hawkstone is what my friend art dealer and broadcaster friend Philip Mould likes to call a 'sleeper'. I wasn't surprised to learn that there had been dozens of viewings since it went on the market in July - one American (or his UK representatives) had just left thirty minutes before I arrived. There had been commercial buyers, clearly interested in its potential as a hotel/conference centre or wedding venue. There had been international buyers flying in from all over; and buying agents who will cream 2% off the £5 million sale price just for having 'found' the property and alerted their client that a rare opportunity to own a historic stately home estate in Shropshire can be yours for the less than the price of a flat at One Hyde Park.

But Mike Arthan of Barbers estate agents (joint sole with Reeves and Partners in Leamington Spa) told me that he was hoping that the property would be a 'single owner' and that it could be restored back to being a magnificent family home. His colleague, Nigel Grugeon, of Reeves & Partners, told The Shropshire Star that restoring the hall to a private residence would 'create a home of national renown'.

Certainly, the Venetian Saloon (see photo right) , Winter Garden room, Library and Ballroom (with exquisite Rococo plasterwork) are reception rooms of very rare architectural quality - in superb condition - and it would be easy enough to turn them into entertaining salons to match the understated grandeur created by fashion mogul Leon Max at Easton Neston, which he bought for £15 million from Lord Hesketh after the peer sunk himself into debt.“It is a wonderful, very stylish building in a beautiful setting,” he said.

I hope Hawkstone is bought by an individual who enjoys demolition and who wants to create a very modern sort of stately home - under two and a half hours from London in breathtaking Shropshire countryside just a mile or so away from the famous historic gardens of Hodnet Hall. There's also the West Midland shooting school a few miles away and Hawkstone Park Golf course. It will take patience, and financial savvy - especially when dealing with the local farmer who owns two big open fields in front of the house. He should ideally be bought out during the sale negotiations. When I asked Barbers if the farmer was willing to sell any land, I was told: 'Every farmer has his price, especially around here'. 

There are two cottages that come with the estate but one potential minor draw-back could be that the estate no longer includes the old stables - some way from the Hall - which have been converted into what looks like a very nice house by the local Hodnet doctor. With his 4 x 4 BMW and Hugh Grant flop of hair, the local doctor looks like an ideal neighbour - a man with a classic Jaguar car in his garden awaiting restoration. But could he be bought out as well? Any oligarch or serious tycoon might well want total privacy. I'm sure local Shropshire country doctors have their price as well; or at least an option for first refusal should he ever wish to upgrade to a local manor himself. 

One excellent aspect of the Hall is that its long mile long drive is entirely private. There are actually two drives. The main and grander entrance drive to the Hall is also available to use but much of the road is in disrepair and would need re-surfacing. However, restoring it would certainly provide house guests with a memorable first impression as they approached the grand Baroque facade. The Hall also looks superb from the rear, where there are formal gardens and a pedimented corner wing that could be made into a summer house.

The 63 acres of agricultural land sweeps chiefly around to the left, on the side of the private chapel (which can be deconsecrated and turned into anything suitable). The buyer will be embarking on one hell of a property adventure - and the new owner of Hawkstone Hall will need a good building team and conservation architect, but an even better demolition team as well as an interior decorator who understands how to furnish genuinely stately Georgian rooms with high ceilings and do justice to a Baroque interior that was remodelled in 1826 (less than a decade after Sir Rowland Hill's victory at Waterloo) by the architect Lewis Wyatt.

A TV reality show could be made from the bulldozer demolition of the sixties residential wing alone. This comprises of 19,250 square foot ovet three floors - including lifts and around 50 monkish single bedrooms, along with enough lavatories, and hostel style bathrooms to host a regiment. The whole place is best blown up.  

The new owner will have to be of a different temperament than various previous owners whose financial vagrancies and extravagancies have often ended up making them bankrupt, or having to sell the house off, due to over ambitious remodelling and architectural over-indulgence. Dr Johnson described Hawkstone as 'magnificent compared with the rank of its owner'.

Johnson was referring to the Hill family. The worst debt offender was the the 3rd Viscount Hill whose bankruptcy by the time of his death in 1895 forced the sale of the contents of the hall, which caused the and the breaking up of the estate by 1906. It was then sold to the Liberal politician George Whitely who later became Lord Marchamley in 1908 . Whiteley got the Hawkstone renovation bug himself - as most owners seem to have done - and had the Palladian wings reduced in length by William Tomkinsons of Liverpool. The magnificent Ballroom - which would make a stately drawing room to compare with Blenheim Palace or Buckingham Palace - also had some alterations made.

The Hall was then sold after Lord Marchamley's death and acquired by the Roman Catholic Redemptorist Order in 1926 and until 1973 it was a seminary. In recent years, it has been a Pastoral and Renewal Centre allowing members of the public to go on religious retreats - luxurious ones it would appear. During my tour of the hall, I encountered a well stocked bar serving all cocktails and a range of old malt whiskies, as well as a number of  TV/Cinema rooms and a library of DVDs.

But most importantly the cornicing and decorative features, including a beautiful original oak 18th century grand staircase are all in excellent condition. I was also informed there is a 'well stocked cellar' but whether the wine come with the house is a matter of negotiation. Another unusual feature - in addition to the large private chapel - is the estate's tiny private cemetery, to the rear of the walled garden, which the Trustees of the Redemptorist Order will retain access to visit. 

Hawkstone is a true sleeper gem. A copy of Simon Jenkins's 'England's Thousand Best Houses' sits on the coffee table in the atmospheric Library, and Jenkins is surely right to give Hawkstone three stars, describing it as 'well conserved' - which it certainly is, with the priests clearly not having had riotous religious raves or balls in the house. Thanks to financial help from English Heritage, the Catholic Redemptorists having been very careful custodian owners.  Stud wall bedrooms and loos have been added on the upper floors but the principal bedrooms could quite easily be restored to their 18th and 19th century century proportions - with extra bathrooms added - without too much difficulty. The grand 'bones' of the Hall, as an architect would say, are preserved intact. 

Jenkins was particularly impressed by the Venetian Saloon which he describes as a 'superb room' - attributed to Henry Flitcroft and dated around 1740. It boasts 'a dark stucco and gold-leaf ceiling above ornamental picture surrounds'. The inset oil paintings of what looks like a battle scene from Waterloo and portraits of William and Mary come with the Hall as they are fixed inside ornamental picture surrounds, just like the ornamental inset paintings at Easton Neston came with the house.

So at least even if you do have to spend £5 million to buy Hawkstone, you also get some quite fine 18th century paintings for free to start off your art collection.  Don't hang about with this one. 

Friday
Aug102012

Cashing in on the Olympics - a criminal reports from Greenwich 

 

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 8TH

 

I once googled the name William Cash to learn that there is a black knife murderer on death row in Alabama or some such state with the same name.  Well now there's another criminal in the Cash clan. And this one is white, aged 45 and was seen shortly before the crime carrying a Leon Max umbrella from the Serpentine Party and a plastic union jack flag. 

The crime occured shortly after 8am on Tuesday morning, and I felt like a drug dealer. The proposed location of the black-market transaction for two tickets to the Dressage team finals  - involving £300 in used notes - was unlikely as a crime scene: the Peter de Witts cafe - specialising in home-made English sausages and pork pies  - opposite the Greenwich market.

I somehow missed the original cash rendezvous drop point so the money ended up passing hands in front of an official Olympic snack kiosk opposite the security entrance to Greenwich Park's magnificent Equestrian stadium. I had never met my ticket source before - but she was from Devon and was mad about horses which suggested the tickets were kosher. She had been lucky enough to get five £150 tickets in the ballot and had two spare. 'I am carrying a union jack flag and an umbrella' I texted to her by way of identification. 'But so is almost everybody else' she texted back. We finally identified ourselves over the phone by way of her wearing a red top and green trousers. George Smiley would not have approved. 

The entrance area to Greenwich Equestrian arena was crawling with armed police but none gave a damn about any cash dealings close to the gate. They were more worried about confiscating my plastic bottle of water. According to one Greenwich kiosk owner I spoke to, who had witnessed dozens of such transactions, they estimated over 70% of official Olympics tickets were not being used by the people who bought them. And a lot of those people turn out to be British media. Like me. 

Up until Tuesday, when I (and my girlfriend, who is a horse nut) scored two tickets with hard cash, the
only media access I had to the London 2012 games was watching on the TV at home. I was not alone. Far from it. Whilst the BBC have been gloating about their all-areas Olympics access, getting so close to many
athletes that they have been blubbing during interviews and becoming so tactile with athletes that the public have complained, the hard working British regional press - along with thousands of other British
business media - have been quietly excluded from covering the games despite doing so much to support the Olympics at the bid stage and promote the Games in the last six months.

The British media is renowned around the world for its humour, political diversity, investigative skills, and sheer range. We are Gold medallists at writing splash Olympic headlines. No country in the world other than Germany comes close. America may have 35 or so gold medals but it doesn't have a national newspaper industry - unless you count USA Today which is such a dumbed down tabloid that it suddenly makes OK! seem like Prospect.

So why when we are spending £10 billion of tax payers money hosting 'The Greatest Show on Earth' have some of our best and biggest media names in the national and regional press across the UK, along with global magazines like Spear's - along with most other business and current afairs magazines - been relegated to reporting from the sofa?

It seems a case of sofa so bad. Too many of the British media have been effectively made to watch from the gutter outside the Circus Maximus in Stratford, whilst regional foreign media - which is all you really have in the US, China and Australia (New York Times, LA Times, Sydney Morning Herald et al)  - get to use the VIP Media buses, the VIP Media lanes, and - most importantly - get allocated hundreds of seats at each event that they cant even be bothered to turn up to, leaving them empty. Worse they don't even have to bother with booking any tickets. It's access all areas - and some seemed to have their kids with them too from what I
could see from the press area at Greenwich.

This will surely be a regrettable part of the Olympics legacy. According to the International Olympics Committee there are around 27,000 media (including technicians) covering the Games, of which only 5,500 are journalists and photographers. Of this around 270 are from the UK - including for some bizarre reason a 'media chaplain' - with full 'E" passes (giving unlimited access). That leaves very little room - if any - for local or regional papers, including local London papers.

Take the Wenlock Herald - my local rag in Shropshire - which is read by the market town of Much Wenlock where the modern Olympics movement was started back in the late 19th century by Wenlock doctor Dr William Penny Brookes in 1850 after he started the Shropshire Games, based on the ancient Athenian games. In 1866, Brookes founded the National Olympian Games and he is recognised as a founding father of the Modern Olympic Games, along with Baron Pierre de Coubertin whom he used to meet at the Raven Hotel in Much Wenlock, which still very much exists today. The bar serves a good range of wines - all from Tanners. 

The hotel contains a museum of their exchange of letters from those early years. The Wenlock Olympian Games are still held every July. Back on 30 May, the Olympic torch of the London 2012 passed through the historic town to commemorate the debt that the modern Olympic games owes to Brookes, after whom the local school is named.

That is also why 'Wenlock' is the name given to one of the two official Olympic mascots, which can be purchased as a fluffy toy or as an official Olympics Cadbury's chocolate bar. But despite this unrivalled Olympic heritage - unrivalled in the world - you will not find any correspondent from the Wenlock Herald (the local paper) actually accredited by the BOA at London 2012. The Wenlock Herald Olympics Correspondent is just another member of the UK media sofa brigade. 

When I brought this exclusion of the British regional media up with the deputy editor of one of Britain's largest regional paper groups, he told me that the way the UK regional press have been treated by the BOA had been indifferent to the point of condescending.  The executive wishes to remain anonymous but he told me: 'I know that when we were originally applying for passes, it was made very clear to us that regional press would get next to nothing – basically, only a few scraps, if available, after the nationals and internationals had had
their pick.We felt it very unfair, since LOCOG and partners had been happy to exploit us for favourable PR coverage while the stadium was being built, and taxpapers’ money being spent!'

When I was watching the English dressage team win Gold at Greenwich, my £150 (face
value) seat happened to be right next to where Jeremy Hunt, the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport, was sitting with his wife and various American VIP dignatories. Princess Anne, her son Philip and her husband were a dozen or rows behind, much higher up in the Gods.

The area in between was a grey plastic desert of empty seats as seen by the photograph I took (the 45 year old Minister is wearing shades and is seated to the left surrounded by empty seats). A few rows behind Hunt, I did see a number of happy looking BBC journalists with their special BBC neck ribbons and badges in this VIP/Media area at Greenwich. Whilst the entire UK regional press have been allocated 'scraps' - almost no access - the BBC have 763 accredited staff at the Olympics. Thats all paid for by the tax payer.

In view of the empty seats scandal, with some 6,000 empty seats per day and the army and 'school children' being shipped in to fill the
seats, I wrote to Miriam Wilkens, head of the UK's Media Operations, to ask whether professional British media - especially regional press
and business press who were not part of the approx 270 UK working print press accredited with 'E' passes - might be allocated any sort of media access to the Games in the light of mainly foreign media simply not showing up.

The way it works is that if you have an 'E' media pass, you don't need ticketing - you can go to any event and sit in the VIP/Media  enclosure, which is the Olympics equivalent of the Royal Enclosure at Ascot.

What is unclear is why the world's media werent required to book tickets - as they need to for the swimming events and Opening/Closing ceremonies - so at least the BOA or IOA would know how many seats were
being used, and then could release some seats accordingly to accredited British gutter or sofa media. I don't mean the Sofa Press in the Hogarthian sense here, I literally mean editors of national magazines or sports editors of the British regional equivalent to the Boston Globe who have been having to file from the sofa for the last ten days.

This empty seat scandal has quite rightly incensed Lord Moynihan - our Olympics Special Diarist - who has vocally expressed his 'deep concerns' about the issues relating to unused VIP/media seats, saying
after Day 3 of the Games: : 'The problem of empty seats at London 2012 still has to be sorted. I do not feel any more relaxed today than I did two days ago. It is unfair on Team GB not to have maximum support with as many people sitting in the seats as possible. It is also absolutely unreasonable to the public, who are so supportive of Team GB, not to have the opportunity to come to a Games and enjoy an experience which most of them will never have again in the United Kingdom'.

The reply I had from Miriam Wilkens was disingenuous. She stated that we had missed the boat as ALL media accreditation was closed as long back as 2010. Yes, over two years ago !

As she explained in what read like a template letter: 'The Media Accreditation Committee decided at
the very first meeting that no late applications would be accepted and this is something that we have maintained throughout the entire accreditation process.The accreditation process was open from Wednesday 4th August to 15 October 2010'.

However, enquiries I made - and conversations I had with fellow colleagues in the media - confirmed quite clearly that this was not accurate; it wasn't even close to be true. An officer I spoke to at London Accreditation Media Ticketing confirmed that accreditations from UK media were being accepted 'within the last year'.

And another senior member of your Communications team confirmed to me that 'There were a number of accreditations given out post 2010'. Another said, comically: 'You may be media but what right do you have more than a school child to watch the Games? They are just as deserving'.

Right. Perhaps the most glaring proof of this misinformation from the BOA came when it was revealed only last month that The Voice, Britain's oldest and widely read black newspaper had originally been refused accreditation to the Olympics. The official rejection letter reply received by the editor of The Voice from the BOA even blatantly contradicted the Stalinesque reply I received from the BOA relating to the  'no late applications' rule.

‘The extraordinary interest and demand from UK media saw the British Olympic Association (BOA) receive more than 3,000 requests for the approximately 400 accreditations available. After careful consideration by the Media Accreditation Committee, we regret to inform you that your application for accreditation for the London 2012 Olympic Games has been unsuccessful. Should we be in the fortunate position to receive additional accreditations from the International Olympic Committee (IOC) as the Games near or if any granted accreditations are returned, we will reallocate them to applicants on our waiting list. You will automatically be put on this list.’

After an on-line protest by over 2,500 black readers who were outraged that The Voice Newspaper - founded in 1982 by Jamaican-born accountant, Val McCalla - were not going to be able to report on the antics of Britain's brilliant black athletes (who must out number our white winners), a decision was made in July by the BOA reversing the original rejection and granting media accreditation to London 2012. So that's one example
of BOA changing their mind. But most UK media don't even make it onto the waiting list.

As the editor of The Voice Newspaper put it even after being given his 'E' media pass: 'Questions must be asked of the Media Accreditation Committee as to what criteria they used to reach the conclusion that The Voice was not worthy of accreditation...what training and knowledge or race relations and equality the members of this committee have...what is the equality break down of the media organisations granted accreditation and rejected and how many UK based black and minority ethnic media organisations have received accreditation'.

The media accreditation mess and the empty seats fiasco are two areas that could have been easily resolved with savvy media skills and leadership.  None of which the senior executive members of the BOA 'Communications' media team seem to possess; they can't even reply to professional media emails without resorting to using a form template. Why the Director of the UK 'Communications' team is an American is also unclear. 

It seems extraordinary that UK media cannot be allowed to report on the Olympics - when there are so many foreign media and VIPs not bothering to show up or use their seats. Apart from anything else, the nature ofthe media business is that the thinking is more about next month than next year. News organisations tend not to know the make-up of their editorial teams two years in advance so one would expect some flexibility - especially to UK based media who have been spending time and resources promoting the Olympics.


According to the Telegraph, excluding the Press Association (who have 90 hacks at the games) , the number of print and photo journalists accredited for Britain's entire newspaper industry  (unlimited access) is just 270 .
Yet the Chinese had around 500 for the Bejing Games. Ironic isn't ? As The Telegraph's Olympics editor put it last year, whist taking up this very subject: 'For a country with limited media freedom the numbers of
accreditations are in line with Britain, which has the most robust competitive media market in the world'.

The shameful mess up of British media accreditation by the TeamGB media and communications team, headed by Miriam Wilkens, is only made worse by the fact that the BOA have allowed the IOA to trample all over them
when it comes to handing out a few 'scraps' to the British media, treating us like a provincial cousin. With Britain currently in third in the Olympic rankings  - only behind America and China -perhaps Olympics Minister Hugh Robertson or Jeremy Hunt should lobby the IOC that media passes for Rio should be allocated in relation to Golds won. At least the editor of the Wenlock Herald might have a chance of making the cut then for 2116. 

Saturday
Jun022012

King of Clubs 

A controversial thing to say perhaps with the modern Olympics having been born just a few miles away in Much Wenlock but Upton Cressett will be an Olympics free zone this summer. I’ll be ignoring the running, swimming and discus throwing for a range of personal reasons, not the least that it could have been the most perfect stage to convert the world to the glories of cricket - but no, the sport (imagine the Olympic gold showdown being hosted at Lords) was passed over despite the shorter form of the game, especially 20-20, being one of the fastest growing and exciting international sports in the world. 

What I am looking forward to watching this summer - from the bar - are the dancing opportunities with the
long awaited opening of 5 Hertford Street, Robin Birley’s new Mayfair club in a sprawling set of exquisitely chic and quirky rooms, with a tunnel of booths, dining rooms, nightclub, library, cinema and bar. They all
shimmer invitingly in the dim lights like a luminescent tortoise shell, just off Shepherd Market. While there has been a glut of private members’ clubs opening in Mayfair recently, including the spived up new Arts Club, a multi-million makeover at Morton’s and Little House Mayfair, a sister to Soho House, 5 Hertford Street will
be the club that London will want to join.

Taki used to say that one of the greatest pleasures in his life was stepping off the Concorde from New York and being driven straight to the bar at Annabel’s where he knew he would always encounter the prettiest girls in London, as well as old friends, not to mention a raffish selection of society boulevardiers. I am sure — judging by the eclectic members (and dogs) present at the walk-round I attended in late May — that 5 Hertford Street will be successful for the same reason.

There are two types of clubs. There are the type you join to avoid people you know (such as the Clermont
Club, which ironically, in the 1960s, was the smartest club in London) and there are those where you go because you want to bump into old friends,  and the barman will know your name and your favourite
cocktail.  In The End of the Affair, Graham Greene has his protagonist Maurice Bendrix take his love rival — a dullard civil servant with whose wife Bendrix had conducted an affair — to lunch at the Authors’
Club to inform him of his wife’s betrayal. In the torturous scene over lunch, Bendrix tells his rival that he chose the Author’s Club precisely because they would be in no danger of encountering anybody either of them knew. 

Happily, 5 Hertford Street is not going to be that sort of club.  London needs a club that is private, exclusive and for a certain sort of person who does not want to be surrounded by Damien Hirst Spot paintings or skulls and Russian professionals propping up the bar. For too long, London’s private member clubs have become glorified versions of St Tropez beach clubs, where money is the only qualifier for membership.

The point about clubs is that, by definition, every club is not for everybody. Just as every great biography often reveals as much about the character of the author as his or her subject, so with club proprietors. A club has to reflect the personality of its owner, and 5 Hertford Street does not disappoint. From the moment you walk into the entrance hall, and are greeted by a splendid hunting portrait by Sir William Orpen (a contemporary of the portrait painter Sir Oswald Birley, Robin’s grandfather), or step downstairs into the dimly lit basement nightclub known as Loulou’s — where the red velvet cushions are even lusher and sexier than the navy Neisha Crosland zebra print stripes on the sofas at Annabel’s — you know you are happily back in Birley clubland. Namely a land of ruthless, idiosyncratic and perfectionist good taste.

The wait has well been worth it. Opening a club slightly later than envisaged is a Birley family trademark. Robin’s father Mark famously delayed the opening of Mark’s Club for many months because he wasn’t happy with the chandelier that was to hang in the entrance hall. Perfectionism has always been the Birley way and may such obsession with detail long continue. One of the cleverest things about the enormous 18th century townhouse of Robin’s club is that its eclectic mix of rooms, floors and dining rooms pulls off the trick of making the members ofthe old Birley clubs – George, Harry’s Bar, Annabel’s, Mark’s  – feel at home,  all under one roof, whilst also boldly re-inventing the Birley interior magic gift in a bold and original new way.

Tom Wolfe always used to say that details are the window into the soul. After being shown into the extraordinary ladies’ loos at 5 Hertford Street, with their diamond pink encrusted marble sink surrounds, I can’t imagine it will be long before Birley is approached by World of Interiors to photograph what will surely becomethe most talked-about loos in London. At Chatsworth, Debo Devonshire famously obsessed about creating the most comfortable and most tasteful public loos for any stately home — but Robin has raised club lavatory interior design to an art form. The men’s are smaller but I was glad to see that the chosen lavatory maker of choice is Crapper, the Asprey of old fashioned lavatories.

One of the most successful features of 5 Hertford Street — which feels like a private house — is the terrace courtyard. Not so many years ago, if you wanted to smoke in London at some glitzy club or party, you were herded outside on the street or made to stand in the car park. No self-respecting London club opens today without addressing the loopholes in the smoking laws and the Birley terrace — like a courtyard inside a grand palazzo in Rome — is even more ingeniously conceived and executed than the small sculpture garden smoking terrace at the Club at the Ivy.  To accompany the Birley Cigar Shop,  having a private Cigar Courtyard is the trump card that leaves the rest of Mayfair private members’ land in the social dust.

Other than Loulou's, I'm also also especially looking forward to the Masterpiece collectors art fair this year as Spear's has its own booth. Masterpiece is the Maastricht of the Ultra High Net Worth (UHNW) universe  - showing the 'best of the best' for the UHNW collector, whether they are looking for a vintage ex-racing Ferrari or an early Fontana. Like last year, we are are hosting a debate in the opening morning of the fair with VIP dealer panelists being invited to talking first for three minutes on a piece they are selling at Masterpiece  - and why they almost cannot not bare to part with - and then speak again about an item from another stand at Masterpiece which they crave and would like to own.

The point of the debate it to ask 'What is a Masterpiece?'. Dr Johnson’s Dictionary describes a Masterpiece as being ‘A Capital Performance. Anything done or made with extraordinary skill’. But the 'M' word has become overused today. The idea of a Masterpiece originated in Europe in late Middle ages – especially in Holland - andreferred to a virtuouso work by a craftsman that won him entry into a professional guild. A 'masterpiece' was what made him a Master of his craft as opposed to a mere journeyman. So the creation of a Masterpiece is about transcending the ordinary into something that becomes close to the sublime.

Can a nightclub ever be termed a Masterpiece? Is there even such a thing as a guild of nightclub proprietors ? Robin Birley has certainly served his Mayfair and City apprenticeships, first with Birley sandwich bars (where he employed the classical architect Philip Jebb to design his shops and glass shelves) and later in returning a jejeune and tired Annabel's back to profit. When asked to define a Masterpiece, Cyril Connolly said that we think of a work of art as 'good', part of that judgement and thought is a 'desire that other people should agree with us'. Loulou's opens on June 11th. I expect tout London to be queuing around into Curzon Street.

Sunday
Mar042012

Why Greg Clark must listen to Sir Andrew Motion, David Hockney and Philip Mould

March 3rd, 2012 (above: Mulholland Drive: The Road to the Studio, 1980, David Hockney) 


I recently had the pleasure of attending a party thrown by the CPRE at the Philip Mould gallery in Mayfair to celebrate the English countryside. The CPRE - along with the Spear’s ‘Save Britain’s Historic Landscape’ campaign - have been in the very front trenches (along with the National Trust) of the national debate over the government’s draft planning reforms (NPPF) which is feared will greatly harm both heritage and the countryside through a new ‘presumption in favour of development’. We at Spear’s, along with Shaun Spiers, CEO of the CPRE – no relation except in spirit – are all awaiting the imminent publication of the government’s new re-drafted NPPF.

It is hoped that Greg Clark and his team of advisors at the DCLG will make the necessary revisions to the NPPF that this country so richly deserves and needs. If Clark has listened to the voices of reason in the national debate, and sufficiently protects the beauties of the English countryside and our heritage - as he has repeatedly assured the British public he will – then the CPRE will be very largely to thank, even if it was necessary to spill ministerial blood on the lawn in the early stages of the campaign when tempers flared up and the CPRE and the National Trust were accused of being a bunch of pinkos under the bed. Shaun Spiers was singled out as a Bolshevik simply because he was once a Labour MEP.

There was nothing remotely Trotsky-esque about the civilised champagne party in Mayfair, co-hosted by Philip Mould, which drew such guests as Sebastian Faulks, and his wife Veronica, Kate Adie, Sir Simon Jenkins, chairman of the National Trust, Simon Thurley, CEO of English Heritage, Philip Blond, the political thinker and head of ResPublica, as well as CPRE president Bill Bryson and former poet laureate Sir Andrew Motion.

Part of the reason for the party was to announce the hand-over of the presidency from Bryson to Motion, and the speeches were as erudite as one might expect, with Philip Mould’s contribution standing out as the ‘alpha plus’ speech. He spoke eloquently without notes about the importance of ‘memory’ to the English landscape (much as Sir Roy Strong has argued in ‘Visions of England’ that the idea of English identity is rooted in our imaginations).

In Andrew Marr's BBC profile of David Hockney last night, in which England's greatest painter explained why he has always been so drawn to landscape - as opposed to architeture - as his subject, Hockney re-iterated Mould's very point when he said: 'I paint from memory. We always see from memory, and every person always sees the world a little differently. We are all on our own'. In the context of the British countryside, which he thinks is sacred and - to use Morris's memorable phrase - 'unapproachable in its beauty' - Hockney left the audience in no doubt where he stands on protecting the historic English countryside (in his case around Bridlington in North Yorkshire) from industrialization from wind turbines, or 'inappropriate' planning development. 'Putting something in a landscape alters it' was Hockney's retort to Marr when asked about his fears for the countryside. I only hope Greg Clark was watching.

Philip Mould, in his speech at the CPRE party, spoke of how the very best painters (he fortunately had a small Gainsborough on hand to illustrate his point, but could as easily have made his point with one of Hockney's magisterial 'Bigger Canyon' paintings from 1988) drew on the power of memory as the creative well to produce their inspirational landscapes. One of my favourite Hockney's, perfectly executing this theme of memory mixing with life-affirming exuberance, is Mulholland Drive: The Road to the Studio, 1980, acrylic on canvas, in which Hockney drew on his memory of the hundreds of times he had driven along the top of LA's Mulholland Drive (the road that snakes around the top of the Hollywood Hills) to get to his studio in Malibu, where he also had a small house.

When I lived in LA in the 90s, I lived next-door to David on Woodrow Wilson Drive (Hockney sold the house a few years ago to a close friend) and I used to see him for dinner or pop around to his studio, where he always kept some decent white wine in the fridge and a good supply of cigarettes (and other tobacco forms). In the Marr film, Hockney is asked why he prefers to paint from memory and sketches rather than photographs (which he also uses but does not rely on), and David makes the point that memory is itself a form of creation, or re-creation. David no more had to rely on photographs to paint The Road to the Studio (he had two studios in LA, one in Malibu and another larger one beside his Hollywood Hills house) than he did 'Nichols Canyon Road', another Hollywood Hills road that anybody living on Woodrow Wilson Drive would have used on an almost daily basis to cut down through the canyon down and out onto Sunset into LA.

As the critic Christopher Ricks once wrote in a long review he wrote of Norman Mailer's 1980 Pulitzer prize winning 'faction' novel. The Executioner's Song, about the life and execution of convicted American murderer Gilmore, the act of memory is itself an act of imagination.  To recall from the well of memory is to imagine; and imagination is what makes the artist unique, and who he is. This was relevant to the Executioner's Song as Mailer relied on hundreds of hours of taped recordings with Mailer to recreate his life - from memory, in his jail cell - in a way that gave the jagged and broken fragments of memory a coherent, artistically coherent picture.  Only an artist can weave such a picture from the broken shells left behind on the beach; and only the act of creation - and memory - allows him to do so.

Another example in point is Rubens's masterful 1636 landscape painting, A View of Het Steen in the Early Morning, (National Gallery) which Philip Mould recently chose as his 'favourite painting' for a feature in Country Life. In the painting, Rubens seems to have escaped from the world of trade, court, commissions, ambition and fettle, to create his very own Arcadia with a shimmering natural landscape - no windmills in sight, I am glad to report - that looks out over the autumnal countryside a Het Steen in Holland, his country manor and his studio, where he just got on with his work until he died - living with his second wife.


  
Rubens, A View of Het Steen in the Early Morning (1636)
  
The idea of 'Arcadia' in art and landscape is not only about memory; it is almost always about loss - look at Poussin's famous painting 'The Arcadian Shepherds' in the Louvre with its Et In Arcadia Ego inscription (also used in Brideshead Revisted) - 'I too have lived in Arcadia ' - on the tomb as the shepherds mourn for the bliss of a life lived in the rural 'arcadia' of the countryside. To Poussin, the only full life, or the only real life, was a life that was embraced the bliss and beauty of the countryside (the Greek countryside was called Arcadia) as well as that of the town. In many ways, this aesthetic philosophy was what underpinned the essential thinking behind the 1947 Town and Country Planning Act, which allowed for a clear separation between Town and Country and was largely a result of tenacious campaigning by the CPRE.

Mould worried that the government’s current ‘direction of traffic’ – to use a planning phrase that the planning inspectorate like to use themselves – in regards to planning reforms, would rob his young son’s generation from being able to enjoy the shared memory of a historic landscape, as the countryside is so threatened with development and change. Mould told of a trip he had made with his son to an ancient wood (in Norfolk, I think) where Gainsborough had stood for hours to wait for the right light to paint a picture and Mould (ever the art sleuth) wanted to see if he could find the exact spot where Gainsborough had stood to paint the picture several hundred years ago. He found the spot. Although many of the trees had vanished, it was still almost unchanged and Philip spoke of how he felt almost a sense of artistic communion with Gainsborough – something that he fears could be lost forever if the developers are allowed to get their way in the NPPF.

Thankfully the CPRE have no intention of allowing that to happen. Although Sir Andrew is not actually stepping into Bill Bryson’s president’s boots until June, it was a clever idea to announce Sir Andrew’s appointment now – just a few weeks before the revised NPPF is published. At the outbreak of NPPF hostilities, the CPRE and National Trust were accused of being ‘selfish nihilists’ by senior Coalition planning ministers. You can call Sir Andrew many things but ‘selfish nihilist’ is not an insult that will ever stick. The truth is that it is the Barratt home and Taylor Wimpey developers, along with certain (but not all) metropolitan government ministers – egged on by the Treasury – who are the aesthetic and cultural philistines.

I was delighted to hear at the party from Philip Blond, head of ResPublica, that Greg Clark (who pulled out of being the keynote speaker at the National Trust AGM) has been invited to give a speech about ‘Beauty’, and has accepted. Greg Clark is a sensitive and intelligent politician – as well as being a doctor of philosophy – and I can only hope that writing the speech abut the philosophy of aesthetics, and the importance of beauty to the environment, is also born out in his re-drafting of the NPPF.

The CPRE quite like a good scrap. Under Sir Patrick Abercrombie, who founded the CPRE in 1926, the organization was set up originally to fight ribbon development. Sir Patrick also argued the case for specially protected areas of England’s most iconic countryside, and for establishing up Green Belts to preserve the character of towns and give townies the opportunity to easily enjoy the nearby countryside (Access to the Countryside Act 1949). Fighting the NPPF is exactly in this tradition and what the body was invented to campaign against.

The CPRE believe – rightly in my view - that the English countryside is ‘a vital but undervalued environmental, economic and social asset to the nation’. They aim to 'highlight threats and promote positive solutions'. I urge any Spear’s financier or banker who is abut to get their bonus to donate to the CPRE as they – critically –only use their own research to lobby the public and government. And high quality original research is expensive. Earlier this month, a specially commissioned CPRE report – widely published across the media - warned that an area in England which equates to an area almost three-and-a-half times the size of Wales was at risk from the reforms.

Another lyrical and eloquent, albeit brief, speech came from Sir Andrew Motion himself as he was formally unveiled as the next president of the Campaign of Protect Rural England. Although he said he was saving his powder for his speech at the AGM in June, the former poet laureate made clear his concerns about Government reforms to planning rules. ‘'When Government planning reform could place two thirds of rural England at the mercy of a presumption in favour of development, this is a critical moment for the countryside and for anyone who wants a say over what happens to their community and their surroundings’.

Shaun Spiers, the CPRE’s chief executive, added: ‘The countryside he is talking about is the local countryside on people’s doorstep which is most threatened by the National Planning Policy Framework’.

Appointing Sir Andrew is an inspired move and should leave Greg Clark in no doubt who the real enemy of the beauties of the countryside and heritage are in this now long running national debate. Since Greg is anything but a cultural or aesthetic philistine himself, I hope he will take on board the following words of Motion who said that much of his work (like that of Ted Hughes) was drawn from a ‘passion’ for the English countryside, the inspiration he draws from its beauty and tranquillity, and how the countryside is a national asset that should be accessible to everyone.

‘To be proposed for this role is a mixture of joy, honour and a little trepidation. But if CPRE members will have me, then I am fully prepared to stand up for the countryside alongside them’.

Clark looks like a ‘Birthday Letters’ sort of guy; the sort of Cambridge man who may have even seen the manuscript of the Four Quartets that is kept in the Pepys Library at Magdalene, Cambridge. Should the re-draft be tempered to suit the sharp Top Man suits of the developers like Taylor Wimpey who paid for the drinks and the canapés at the platform they hosted for you at the Tory conference, rather than those voters (like the over four million CPRE and National Trust members) who believe the countryside and our heritage is what makes Britain GREAT, then you may just end up being immortalized in verse as The Man Who Ruined England.

Mr Clark is expected to announce his revised changes to the planning rules next month.

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