Just before the end of the summer holidays, I decided to return to Charleston, country home of the Bloomsbury Group, so that I could see the house at its best. When I first visited a couple of years ago, it was during the coldest Easter I can remember, and the bleakness of the sleet-filled sky and the lack of any life in the gardens made the experience a little less than what it should have been. Of course the interior of the house was not dimmed by the freezing wasteland outside, but everything does look better when it’s sunny.
As Charleston doesn’t open until midday, I took a brief detour to the picture postcard village of Alfriston first, which I have longed to visit for a while. Its main street is ridiculously pretty, packed as it is with a hodge podge of historic and beautiful cottages, shops and pubs that look as if they have been around since Domesday. Much Ado Books, a well known and much loved independent book shop, has pride of place on the high street, and I loved poking around inside. They have a marvellous selection of the latest fiction, as well as plenty of tempting second hand books and ephemera at reasonable prices: well worth a visit if you’re in the area. Further up and behind the main street lies the impressive village church, known as the Cathedral of the Downs due to its large size and gorgeous views across the undulating countryside. Alongside the church sits Alfriston Clergy House, a medieval thatched weaver’s cottage that is famed for being the very first property acquired by the National Trust. The whole village feels like a place where time has simply stopped; it is difficult to find villages like this nowadays, that still have thriving shops and have retained their original buildings and historic character. I couldn’t imagine a more idyllic place to live.
Once I had my fill of exploring Alfriston, I went on to Charleston, which took my breath away once again as I drove up the narrow lane surrounded by the soft humps of the Downs and found the gorgeous Georgian house at the end of it, reflected in its own pond and wreathed in flowers. Walking around the beautiful rooms, filled with the furniture, paintings and spirits of the fascinating and phenomenally talented crowd of people who once lived and stayed here, I felt goosebumps rise on my skin as I imagined the conversations that must have taken place at the dining table, and the sparks of inspiration that must have flown on the air. Once again I was struck by what a magical, lively and fun place this must have been, alive with talk and laughter and passion. The studio is a particularly extraordinary space, and it was even more beautiful than I remembered, perhaps because the garden was in full bloom, and formed a stunning backdrop against the glass doors.
It was too cold to properly explore the garden last time I came, so I took great pleasure in seeing the colourful flowers and the fantastic array of mosaic and statue art that Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant left behind. It is amazing that their hand painted tiles and artfully placed mosaic paving has survived, and it makes the garden into just as much a canvas for their creativity as the interior rooms. I could just imagine Virginia on her deckchair, or Angelica running around, or Vanessa pottering amidst her flower beds. The greatest joy of Charleston is in the feeling that they have all just got up and gone for a walk and will soon be returning; this is no museum, but a chance to see life as they lived it, and the house still vibrates with their energy at every turn. I loved every second.