Woolly says – It’s rare that Jo and I differ on what we want to do on a day off but this was an exception to the rule, should we go city, rural, or castle? The human argued that Alfie the Dog needed a good walk and that we had just done a castle, I countered with a day in the city which was shot down in flames as the weather was too nice to pound the pavements, having finally reached a compromise I was delighted that at least we would be going somewhere.

A forty minute drive took us to the Brockhampton Estate a 1000 acre estate of woodland, heath and orchards not to mention a rather splendid manor house. Our arrival into the grounds was met with a huge amount of barking from the backseat as one of the estates volunteers attempted to put her head through the driver’s window to talk to us about our visit.

Alfie the Dog is known for barking incessantly on arrival anywhere, my issue was more that the volunteer in question was breathing right in my face and I am aware that there are still people with covid out there I wasn’t particularly happy, nor could I hear a word that she was saying over the excited noise coming from behind me. Having grabbed a map from her hand I drove off as she continued to talk to the receding car.

Woolly says – Arriving in the car park I jumped out of the car to prevent further hearing loss as Jo sorted the mad mutt out my eyes took in a whole line of Aston Martins parked side by side, was there a rally on I wondered or was it just coincidence that over twenty car owners had all arrived at the same place in a similar model car? Having no means of being able to answer the questions I instead lead the way towards the orchard walk.

Not as much in bloom as I had hoped, in fact there was only one tree that could be considered to be in bud, the first part of the walk took us through the established trees with added sheep who roam freely across the estate, they seemed happy to be chomping away. We entered an area that is still being planted to bring the full orchard that was once here back to life again.

Saplings were everywhere as we followed the pathway going through gates that protected them from the sheep and other animals that graze here. We paused for a moment to wonder if they were all apple trees or if plums and pears were also to amongst their number. With little to see the human and I discussed the many things she could make with fruit which meant that my tummy started to rumble just as we arrived at the onsite cafe.

With doggie ice cream for one and ordinary ice cream for two we happily licked away as we read the boards that surrounded the tables on all thing’s apple. I learnt a lot; I mean did you know that apples originally came from Kazakhstan and had spread along the silk road as traders ate the juicy fruits on their travels throwing the cores behind them enabling the seeds to grow and the apple to begin reaching other countries. With most of the sticky bits removed from my tusks and trunk we headed toward the Norman Church.

The original church was thought to have been built around 1166 using wattle and daub the brick structure had been built somewhere between 1200 and 1225 before further work was carried out in the mid 1500’s when it reached its current size.

It was a small ruin but sweet all the same and as Jo clicked away with the camera, I took in the moat that surrounded the stunning Manor house itself.

The manor was completed around 1425 for the Domulton family and was built using giant timbers cut from the estate. During the first half of the 16th century, it was owned by the Habingtons, in 1552 Mary Habington married Richard Barnaby and the house remained in the family for the next four hundred years.

Around 1700, Richard Barnaby added a two-storey stone and red brick extension to the manor as it was Harington now on the small side and rather dated in comparison to the impressive red brick Georgian mansions which had fallen into favour.

In 1765 a much bigger house was commissioned elsewhere on the estate and the Manor house became a modest farmhouse, occupied by tenants and was quietly forgotten. The neglect wasn’t really addressed until the National Trust took over in 1946 completing a huge renovation project to save it.

With Alfie the Dog unable to come into the house proper we returned him the to the car and left him in a lovely shady spot with the windows open for fresh air before returning to the house.

The Gatehouse was as fine looking at the Manor although much smaller. Built for effect and added grandeur in 1543 it had a steep set of steps leading it the loft above, as I looked round, I realised that it would make an excellent party pad for me and my bestie Sion before the human burst my bubble in stating that the floor didn’t feel very safe and that any bouncing around might result in finding ourselves in the moat.

As we entered the Manor House, I took the time to admire the limewashed exterior and small mullioned windows that covered its frontage.

The first room we arrived in had once served as the study with its large fireplace and beautifully carved desk it seemed as though the owner had only stepped out for a moment and would return shortly.

The Great Hall was impressive with its timber ceiling and great height, an even bigger fireplace would have ensured that diners were kept nice and warm as they sampled the estates poultry and of course apples.

We climbed up the oak stair case and onto the mezzanine which led us into the family bedrooms,

Huge oak doors would have kept draughts down to a minimum and the carved bed would have made a cosy place to sleep in with wonderful views across the fields.

Next door was a slightly less grand bedroom which was followed by a huge attic area that would have been ideal for the nursery for the family.

A single bedroom was laid out to commemorate one of the sons of the family lost in the first world war, as Jo read the information I peered through the windows and across the moat thinking about the many years that this man had missed of his life and the wonderful place he should have returned to.

Stairs took us downwards and I couldn’t resist popping into the former buttery to see if the huge cider barrels had any drops to spare, sadly they were as empty as my belly.

The kitchen was a huge space with a kitchen long table taking centre stage and a relatively small cooking area and bread oven to serve the family. It looked homey and ready to move straight into.

The last room was once the family sitting room, decked out as it would have been in the 1950’s the seating didn’t look all that comfortable. A desk in the one corner had the newspaper on it with the headlines announcing the King’s death, given that his daughter our Queen is now celebrating her Platinum Jubilee it seemed to have taken them a long time to read that edition of the news.

We wandered back into the sunshine and looked at the rear of the buildings where it was far easier to see the additions that the Manor House had undergone whilst admiring the moat and greenery surrounding it.

More than happy with our visit we bid a reluctant goodbye to the beautiful building before heading back to allow the panting beast a further walk.