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Or to be precise, Honicombe Manor - now a holiday park with the grounds full of caravans and chalets, was a place we lived for a while.
We moved from Scotland to Cornwall in 1962 - we (and the cats) came by train, the caravan by loader.
The nearly derelict medieval manor house and lands had been bought the year before, and to raise money, the family was allowing caravans in the grounds - there were 3 when we lived there.
Unfortunately, on the way down, one half of our caravan (it came in two halves ) got damaged.
The family invited us to live in the house until the caravan was repaired - we lived in the house for about 2 months, in the grounds for 18 months.
We had 2 cats - Mickie and her daughter, Tabby. Neither would go upstairs alone.
There was a curtain half way up the stairs, on looking behind it, there was a room with rotten, gaping floorboards. Tabby got stuck in a corner of the very high ceiling of this room.
Well, being 7 at the time, I had no time for surnames, just enjoyed exploring the house, and the vast grounds, where my sister and I found graves of dogs and horses, with wonderful tombstones.
Last weekend, my brother mentioned the surname of the owners when we lived there, so I did a bit of sleuthing, and found this wonderful description by the son of the owners, who is now a local photographer.
"Around this time my father decided to the move us to the Westcountry and he bought a derelict manor house dating back to the Doomsday book that was dropping to pieces, and which he had no idea what to do with. We were moved in as a family to this great house with holes in the roof, no electricity, and ghosts in some of its fifty-four rooms. Some of these rooms we did not discover until we had lived there for several months. My sister and I used to go to different parts of the house together because we were frightened of getting lost or just plain frightened! I remember having a tree in my bedroom which grew in through the wall and then up and out through the ceiling and roof complete with wildlife. We often found a cows or sheep in the house with us, due to the fact that the next door farmer had taken to using the land for years and the livestock had found their way into the house for warmth and shelter. Water had to be brought from a spring outside and was the most beautiful soft water which turned azure blue as soon as you dipped your hands into it. This was due to the copper residue in the water. Subsequently we learned of the arsenic and other minerals contained in the water which were, miraculously in just the right quantities to pep up anyone suffering with heart problems. We had a lot of old dears who loved our water and swore that they would never have walked the slight hill to the local post office to collect their pensions without it. Needless to say health and safety regulations eventually came in to put an end to that. The grounds had once been wonderfully managed with Victorian gardens, including great rare shrubs and trees which had all become wildly overgrown; with woodlands, fields, ponds and a stream, I even had my own island called Anthony Island. Honicombe was simply the most idyllic location in which young children could grow up"
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What a great place to live and explore as a child Maggie. I would have loved it!
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It is an interesting history, ArgyllGran, though not entirely accurate.
The servant's quarters were still there in the 1960's, and were rented out.
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