Wednesday 15th April 2015
A great event in Hastings, although champagne was drunk in appalling conditions, possibly not equaled in horror since the Multis bought their Kent desmesne. It did occur to me that Angus Willis’s Tudor House in Hastings is one of the most important new interiors to be added to the Nation’s stock in the last twenty years if not longer. Never before has such an effective and convincing restoration been achieved in such unlikely and imaginative ways, using furniture pecked by chickens in Romania, 60s crockery from car boot sales and bakelite light switches to create an authentic Tudor feel. It’s what seems old to us, you see – that’s the trick of it. When the Tudor House was shown on TV recently, estate agents were asked to value it. One tottering blonde was completely defeated. ‘Nobody would want to live here,’ she said. But actually casual visitors, initially terrified by the extraordinary conditions and quantity of hen-pecked furniture, the splinters, the chipped white enamel pie-dishes, the ‘London’ gas-cooker of lethal aspect, are finally over-awed, transported into the Tudor past, profoundly moved by their experience. But now I was summoned to Hastings to mark a further acquisition. A viewing was planned for 4pm but Genevieve Suzy, who, as you may know is also a property-owner in Hastings, cut up rough. Despite the momentousness of the occasion, she almost refused to go unless the time was re-set. Suddenly she was determined upon a formal tea. ‘Why should I go at the time he gives,’ she stamped. But the appointment couldn’t be re-set despite unlimited texting and calling and after a quarter of an Ecceles cake, accompanied by texting and calling, she dragged off, screaming all the way. We reached the door of the property newly acquired by Angus Willis. The story is that Charlie Hurling, the one who thinks of the worst thing to say and says it, also thought of the worst thing to do and did it. He bought a property in Hastings to be refurb and let as a single unit for weekend parties and so forth. His style is black and white wallpaper and Louis Quinze furniture. So Angus had the entire banking system turned upside down to acquire a rival property and at last this was achieved. A Regency town house, terraced, bow-fronted, with balconies,on five storeys, with sea-views. There we were at its front door, being photographed prior to entry. What would be within? A dark hallway, then a blue front room with a vast paper lantern hanging from the 70s. Little examination revealed the utter delapidation. We advanced further. Wrecked Habitat features of 40 years ago, such as silver wallpaper, eau-de-ni bamboo print wallpaper, white paper lanterns, but never finished even then. Otherwise, holes in the walls, collapsed ceilings, sodden carpets fit only to be burnt… someone had been living amongst all this only a few days before. This had been a home. Another friend of Angus’s showed up and nearly wretched in the gim-crack smelly kitchen. I will say no more. From the lowest rung of Hell, Angus must now ascend to decor and a whole. It will be achieved. Just you wait. It cannot be any other way.
I seem to remember that I did arrive with two bottles of rather nice champagne to toast the Regency Rubble…although it is true that I did break off from tea to do so…
Yes, indeed. So it could be described as a champagne tea taken in two different places