Little feet on the floorboards

One of my nephews taking his first steps at Cotehele in Cornwall, December 2013

I’ve realised that I lived through a magical era of children’s television from 1988 to 1993. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe had its third television adaptation in 1988. The same year Helen Creswell’s Moondial hit our screens. Then in 1993 The Secret Garden had its third film adaptation - complete with Dame Maggie Smith in a ‘downstairs’ role.

I sat in the crumbling little cottage I grew up in on the Welsh borders taking in the big box of a television set we had at the time. I saw intriguing country houses through the eyes of various children in these three captivating stories. I’ll try not to drop any spoilers here but it’s safe to say in all three of these productions the houses are restricting but also possess elements of magic. There’s the titular wardrobe, children from different time periods in Moondial, and that ever giving part of country house estates: the walled garden.

I’m a big fan of playwright, director and screenwriter Stephen Poliakoff. His work often inhabits familiar periods, settings and sometimes with true stories and real characters. What bowls me over is his ability to introduce what I can only call contrivances that sit so beautifully in the stories yet are so extraordinary in their own right.

In the 2003 drama The Lost Prince we see the youngest child of King George V, Prince John, entering the hall at Sandringham. It’s a forebodingly dark place but he’s drawn to the lamps and light of the fire where his grandfather, King Edward VII, seated with Prince John’s siblings standing around him. What transpires is that the royal footmen are putting lumps of butter on the King’s knees, and each grandchild has to choose one in order to claim victory if theirs reaches the bottom of the regal trousers in the radiant heat of the fire. It’s a scene I’ll never forget and a brilliant opener to a drama. We come to see throughout the eyes of Prince John and his nanny that there are rules and ambiguities about the presence and demeanour of children in these royal houses.

Not many of us can claim to be or have been guests of the families living in great big country houses, and so if anything we experience them as part of school trips or are taken round by our families. Here, in 2023, where are we as a sector with family experiences in country houses? I remember long ago at the first house I worked in, the 'children’s trail’ was specifically designed as a tool to distract and silence children to free their relatives up for architectural and interior wonder.

My nephew Riou and I really enjoyed the aesthetics of Croft Castle - especially the elaborate Gothick and Rococo decorations.

Last year the National Trust overhauled Sudbury Hall in Derbyshire and launched it as the Children’s Country House. I’ve never been to Sudbury, but I know it served as the interiors for Mr Darcy’s Pemberley in the BBC’s 1995 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. Yes reader - this is a house in which Darcy and Elizabeth knew something was in the air!

Sudbury already had a popular museum of childhood in a Victorian wing of the house, so arguably offered an engaging, educational experience for schools and families there. Then it also had the historic house and interiors of the hall, and the grounds on top of these. Something for independent adults too. The move to blend the family experience into the main building is bold. If the Trust has invested the same quality and flair into new interventions as the Vernon family did when they commissioned the house and collected its furnishings - I think they’ll be onto a winner. I’ve got twelve nephews (and no nieces - very strange!) so I’ll recruit some of them to join me on exploring Sudbury later this year.

The Trust’s move to create a whole family experience across Sudbury Hall and rename it the Children’s Country House has not gone without polarised feedback. A quick look up and down TripAdvisor shows families loving it and in seemingly lesser quantities, independent adults not always being keen. In a future blog post I’d like to explore the scrutiny the National Trust receives compared to other historic houses. I adore the wrappings Compton Verney put round their entrance columns, but can’t help thinking if the National Trust did this to say Croome, Attingham or heaven forbid the Vyne there’d be a public burning of membership cards. Anyway - let’s discuss this another day.

I want to share one of the biggest insights of my career to close this blog post.

I worked with various audience focus groups for a visitor experience design project in Cornwall. The place in question had a few wonderfully entertaining interventions built into it long ago by its creators - destined to keep the family children entertained. The team knew the popularity of these with modern-day family visitors, but were anxious about the effect the resulting noise and commotion had on independent adults seeking peace and quiet.

The anxiety was beautifully put to bed. All the groups without children talked about the vicarious enjoyment of seeing children enjoying themselves in such a setting. They referred to the ‘Enid Blyton’ sort of childhood they loved sensing from the family visitors before them.

Childhood is one of few things common to all of us. We may not have all had a happy or easy childhood, but we’ve all had one nonetheless. This is vital to remember when we’re designing experiences for children and grown-ups alike.