Mottisfont

So in the spirit of knocking off these National Trust properties in a year (am I really going to manage this?  Who knows!  But ou phrontis...) I made a diversion on my way back to London from Dorset to Mottisfont in Hampshire.  I had selected it based only on the fact that it was on the way home and although I'd read the literature, and taken in that the previous incumbent, Maud Russell, seemed a colourful character I knew nothing else.  Thus I was unprepared for the sheer fabulousness of the place.
It's certainly impressive as you walk up towards the house, with its impeccable grounds and stately grandeur.  Inside I was greeted by some absolutely charming, slightly eccentric, volunteers who clearly loved the place and were happy to chat about it.  The first room you see, the Whistler room, could easily take up an entire visit.  Indeed, I wished I hadn't just 'dropped in' on my way home, flushed with the thrill of free entry.  Whistler painted the entire room as a 'trompe l'oeil'; that is, everywhere you look there is an optical illusion so clever and intriguing and brilliantly executed that your brain longs to just stare and stare at it, trying to make sense of what your eyes are seeing.  Without ruining things for future visitors, a couple of tips are to look at the urn in the mirror opposite and to find the paint pot and brush - whimsical and personal and terrific.  Again, a wonderful volunteer was on hand to answer all my questions, wonder at it with me (as she must do with visitor after visitor, poor woman) and point out the tricks and jokes.  Oh, also look out for the pair of 1930s shoes left casually by a sofa...call me fanciful but I did feel as if Maud had just stepped out of the room.
Other rooms are less interesting (they could hardly hope to match up) but still thoroughly enjoyable, due to their luscious wallpapers, period touches and flashes of the original priory stone where Maud left parts of the wall unplastered to show off the medieval roots of the building to her guests.  It was this that made me feel she was a woman after my own heart...it showed an understanding of and empathy with history, as well as great imagination...and a little bit of showing off!  Incidentally, I love, love, love the touch of the signs telling you which route to follow.  Rather than dull arrows they were cut outs of elegantly gloved hands with pointing fingers, some complete with pearl bracelets, others with cigarette holders.  Priceless.

Upstairs there was a delightful exhibition of the original Flower Fairy watercolours by Cicely Mary Barker which were utterly charming.  Unfortunately, this led into a frankly creepy exhibition of other pieces of 'fairy' related artwork which included a red lightbulb lit bathroom which was supposed to look like a photo developing workshop but was more reminiscent of some ghastly Victorian murder scene, and a cupboard housing a hanging installation of dead wasps with minature skeletons riding them.  I moved swiftly on.
Unfortunately I didn't have time for much of the gardens, although I did glimpse the walled garden and promised myself a return trip in June for the roses (how am I going to do every property if I go back to favourites?!).  I also had a dutiful look at the font which gives the property its name, but looked a bit stagnant to me.  I made sure I saw the angel mosaic, created by one of Maud's lovers, who gave the angel her face (note to self: get a more artistic lover than the current one, who is more decorative) and went into the Cellarium, for which I was totally unprepared.  It is the only significant remaining part of the 13th century abbey, cool, dank and able, I confess, to bring a tear to my eye.  Why?  There's the evocative power of history.  I urge you to visit!