Rude awakenings

Living in a cottage in the middle of nowhere is bliss. There is so little traffic that we look every time we hear a car engine. If we are expecting a delivery, we can usually hear the van turn into the lane and see it go whizzing past us, and then reverse slowly back. At night, there are no street lights so we can appreciate the stars on a clear night and sleep without the interruptions of town living -- car doors slamming, arguments in the street outside and the constant rumble of activity.

On the other hand, now we have long days and short nights, the wild life decide when it is time to wake up in the morning. Early one Sunday morning, we were woken by a thump on the roof, and a scrabbling on the tiles, followed by an even louder thump on the bedroom window. Paul leapt out of bed, pulled back the curtain to see a large, fat pheasant sitting on the very narrow window sill. The bird then flopped down into the garden (flight is not his forte), and sat there looking up at the window shouting as only a pheasant can. We think this was to let us know the bird feeders were empty. On balance, we decided not to go and fill them, or else we would be up every morning at 5am feeding the birds.

Some mornings we are woken by a sound similar to an electric saw, which ends with a series of glottal stops, then starts the sawing again. None of the bird song websites seem to have this particular rendition, so Paul had to get up one morning and sneak downstairs to catch the culprit. It was our friend the red legged partridge, sitting halfway up the apple tree, trying to work out how to get to the peanut feeder. He seems to have invented his own song, as he doesn't sound anything like the BBC version of a partridge.

You've noticed that the valiant identifier of early morning birdsong is Paul, not me. I'm not so keen to solve the riddles. Soon after we moved here, we were both awoken at about 4am by a high pitched alarm in our bedroom. In our befuddled state of mind, we convinced ourselves it was a carbon monoxide alarm, partly because that was the only instruction book we could find at that time of night. We opened all the windows, and spent the rest of the night counting the seconds between red and green lights flashing on the alarm on the ceiling. The following day, we realized it was actually a smoke alarm, and the unit can be triggered by dust and insects. Probably one of the cottage spiders had a rude awakening as well.

Looking Glass World

The National Trust is a large, distributed organisation with a clear mission: to look after special places for everyone, for ever. Its head office is Heelis -- named for Beatrix Potter's married name (she was one of the early benefactors). But Heelis is in Swindon, not known as one of the most beautiful parts of Britain.

This represents a clear contradiction in the organization -- having strong ideals that are inevitably compromised by the real world. Norfolk is a long way from Swindon, and maybe that is why it feels somewhat unreal here -- Looking Glass World. Almost as things are meant to be, but not quite.

In a recent meeting, I asked my management team to start to use the Outlook calendar, as I can no longer set up meetings any other way. This has caused quite a stir, with people dropping the issue into conversation at every opportunity. Yesterday, a charming lady who works in visitor reception said "if I wanted to be a secretary I would have gone to secretarial school". I think it was a joke, but she wanted me to hear. It won't stop me dragging them into the 21st century.

Earlier this week, I went to see how catering was getting on at lunchtime. It was busy in the main restaurant, and the courtyard cafe had a queue out the door. Then I saw the 'closed' sign was still up on the cafe door. I helpfully took down the sign and took it in to the girl at the counter. "I'm supposed to be closed now!" she said. There were no sandwiches, and dozens of hungry visitors were being turned away -- and we aren't exactly overrun with competition in the area. And yet the catering team will repeatedly tell me how well they are doing. Definitely could do better.

On the other hand, we have a great gift shop. The retail manager is leading the field to introduce more local goods into NT shops. He is very successful at selecting good quality items, and persuading the central retail team to allow us to stock them. We've also got a wonderful plant centre that is increasing revenue every week and a fantastic second hand bookshop staffed by volunteers. Definitely the best-run second hand bookshop I've ever been to -- and all the profits can be spent on projects at Blickling.

In 2010, we will be moving from 5-day to 7-day opening at Blickling. This move was made 10 years ago in the South West Region, but East of England has resisted as long as possible. I have six months to make sure all the implications are understood and addressed. I can hear the banshee of change screaming around the turrets.

Maybe some of this is NFN -- Normal for Norfolk. Cautious, calm, set in its ways. Like the shopkeeper who said, when I phoned to chase my overdue order, "Do you need it then?" And the farm shop with a huge sign declaring itself to be 'the best in Norfolk', but no cars in the car park and no customers inside. Stop fussing, woman, just go back to the garden and watch the birds.

Buildings and gardens

Today I started my seventh week as General Manager at Blickling Hall. You might think I should be feeling more confident by now. To be honest, in some ways I am, but I'm also learning the challenges and contradictions of working for the National Trust.

Blickling has a plethora of riches -- a beautiful hall, fantastic gardens, wonderful parkland and a complete country estate. When the house was bequeathed to the nation, it didn't have a financial endowment to pay for its care, but it had a working estate to generate rents and other forms of income. This continues to be the case. The downside is that it has a large number of vernacular buildings, many of which have been inhabited by the same tenants for donkeys' years. And many need urgent attention to keep them standing.

This leads me to a central conundrum of working for a conservation charity. I am a business manager, charged with developing the revenue from the estate as a whole. But I'm also answerable to conservators of various descriptions who are concerned about too much development, even if it is of the most sensitive type. It is easy to be tied up in knots: converting two ramshackle old barns into beautiful homes or workplaces in a wonderful location will change the original purpose of the buildings. But spending money on them in their current state, when they wouldn't pass muster to house cattle, really doesn't make much sense. And if no money is spent on them, they will soon fall down.

Another aspect is the speed of decision making -- or lack of it. It isn't unusual to find a particular project has been discussed, costed, planned and simply shelved for years. Finding my way through the maze will take a while. I'm only hoping I don't become part of the problem.

On a positive note, the gardens are magnificent. There is a big project being planned to recreate the walled fruit and vegetable garden. We are applying for heritage funding for this, so there are many hoops to jump through, but I'm sure it will be worth it. The picture at the top of the blog is of the east elevation of the Hall in June, taken with a bed of peonies in the foreground. The yew hedges and topiary are trimmed once a year, and all the cuttings are sent to a pharmaceutical company as they form a key ingredient for a cancer drug.

Finally, to remind myself what a fantastic place this is to work, I'm adding two pictures of the Great Wood in early May, resplendent with bluebells and wild garlic. All photos are by Paul, of course.

The Birds

I've never lived in the depths of the countryside before, and wondered whether I would like it. Admittedly, we have arrived at the best time of year, but the cottage is in a glorious location and even when the weather is poor, it is never depressing.

As cat lovers, we have never had an opportunity to study wild birds close at hand. And in Bognor, the fat stupid pigeons, noisy herring gulls and nasty magpies were all we could see. Since arriving here, we have become fascinated by the antics of the wild birds. In fact, our garden is known as a good source of food for all the local bird life.

Our first weekend, we went out and bought a couple of bird feeders and a bag or two of food. Very soon, we had greenfinches greedily pulling out beak-fulls of seed, dropping most of it on the ground. Then a pair of blackbirds appeared, eating what had been dropped. Then a male pheasant -- probably one that had survived last year's hunting season. He's a handsome bird (getting fat) but has lost his long tail feathers. Within two days, all the seed had gone and we had to buy some more.

By the end of the first week, we had seen four pairs of greenfinches, a pair of red-legged partridges, a pair of collared doves, chaffinches, blue tits and a great spotted woodpecker. The greenfinches are the most determined and can easily empty the bird feeder in a day. The pheasant sits underneath the feeder and the food rains down on his head. Another male pheasant has appeared -- slimmer and with a full set of tail feathers. Little do they know that the hunting season will start again soon. Today we saw a pair of woodpeckers with a youngster; they were showing him how to eat peanuts from the feeder.

Someone told me today that he knows people who spend £20 per week on food for their garden birds. Maybe that will be us soon. We can go hungry, but at least the birds will eat!

Needless to say, I take no credit for the photos. These are taken by Paul, right outside our kitchen window. On the left is a great spotted woodpecker, smiling for the camera and on the right a red legged partridge. At the top of the blog are two greenfinches on the feeder on the apple tree.



Sorry if you are bored by this talk about wildlife. It is a new experience for me. Next time I might write about work.

May 2009
New role, for me and the National Trust, as General Manager of Blickling Hall in Norfolk. We've moved up from Sussex, and are starting to understand just how different life is in this part of the world. Within our first week here, Paul discovered that local shops are much more friendly than we have been used to. For example, in the news agents, an elderly man asked for 2 second class stamps. The lady behind the counter got a pair of scissors and cut 2 out of a book of 6 and sold them to him! That definitely wouldn't have happened in Bognor.
Blickling Hall is a Jacobean mansion and estate, left by Lord Lothian to the Trust in the 1930s. It has nearly 5000 acres, a garden, park, over 100 cottages, farms and a pub. It supports numerous businesses and local families one way or another. It is a beautiful location and I've been told repeatedly that it gets under your skin. I can believe it.
My role is new, and they have been waiting for someone to take it on for around 9 months. As a result, a considerable backlog of ideas and issues are awaiting me. Within a couple of days I could tell that my approach was a new experience for my new colleagues (tell me your idea, cost it, find the funds, do it). Blickling has been described to me as a sleeping giant. I wonder if the Trust is ready to see what happens when it wakes up?
In my first month, no two days have been alike. I've been trying to get to grips with all the different aspects of the estate: restoration in the park; conservation in the house; merchandising in the shop; queue management in the restaurant; and driving the Gator (electric buggy) around the estate. It isn't boring!
What is my objective? To improve the Visitor Enjoyment scores on the visitor survey, and thereby the financial performance of the property. A nice clear objective, with a million ramifications. I can't wait to get on with it!