We went back to Knole last Sunday. This time avoiding any thunderstorms.
The blistering heat made the woods more preferable than the deer planes.
It felt a little bit Blair Witch.
It was a good place to ponder Virginia Woolf’s Selected Short Stories which I’ve been reading this week. (She spent a lot of time here.)
Of all the big fancy estates in this country — even the more Brontean ones up north — this one is the strangest. The contrast between wide open and enclosed spaces with animals frolicking everywhere you look gives it a magical spatio-time-warp vibe. No wonder Woolf liked it.