Clandon Park House fire: A reminder that British heritage is much more than stately homes and the antiques they contain

With the family who built Clandon having owned large sugar plantations in Jamaica, homes such as these remind us of a history of grime as well as grandeur

Up in smoke: The heritage lost in the Clandon Park fire was built in part on the Onslow family’s slave trade wealth (Getty)

Palladian lawns and leg irons

Only the most deranged pyromaniac could look at the images of Clandon Park House up in flames and not feel a sense of loss. According to Dame Helen Ghosh, the director general of the National Trust, the Grade I-listed property in Surrey is “essentially a shell” after last Wednesday’s blaze damaged all but one of its rooms. Perhaps there is still something worthwhile to be salvaged from the ashes, however; a reminder that British heritage – when done right – is much more than stately homes and the antiques they contain.

A month before the fire, Dame Helen was in the papers for a happier reason – albeit one which garnered much less coverage. The National Trust’s new 10-year strategy “Playing our part” unveiled a heartening new focus on the great outdoors. Acknowledging that climate change had become the biggest threat to its properties, the charity pledged to cut energy use, promote sustainable agriculture and fund urban green spaces – because the National Trust isn’t all gift shops and tea rooms, y’know.

It’s a shame that Clandon was half-destroyed before the introduction of this latest innovation in the trust’s mission to broaden appeal beyond the middle-aged, middle-class visitor. In an interview given just before the fire, the trust’s chairman Tim Parker suggested they would soon be using interactive technology to reveal when slave labour had been involved in the making of an artefact on display.

Since the Onslow family who built Clandon in around 1733 owned large sugar plantations in Jamaica, it seems likely the Clandon visitor experience would have been enhanced by this technology.

Until the publication of research prompted by the bicentenary of the abolition of slavery in 2007, it had long been the practice of the heritage industry to ignore – out of shame, perhaps – the extensive role slave labour played in creating the comparative prosperity which Britain still enjoys. It’s an attitude that does us no favours. Stately homes such as Clandon represent a history of grime as well as grandeur, downstairs as well as up, and the one would not have been possible without the other. Only a public education programme which incorporates both sides can do justice to Britain’s rich heritage.

Ed’s stumble rumbled

We call ourselves “the fall truthers”. Just like the “birthers” who insist Barack Obama isn’t a US citizen and conspiracists who say the moon landings were faked, we reject the official version and dedicate ourselves instead to The Truth, which is this: On 30 April 2015, when Ed Miliband awkwardly exited the Question Time stage, his trip was no accident; it was a carefully orchestrated political manoeuvre.

Of course, that’s not the way it’s been reported in the lamestream media. Miliband’s opponents made it no secret that they hoped his stumble would presage a stumble in Labour’s campaign, and even Labour’s supporters seemed to accept it at face value. Deputy campaign chief Lucy Powell theorised, for instance that he had “slipped on David Cameron’s sweat”.

What they all fail to appreciate is that the act of taking a public tumble has evolved since Neil Kinnock earned himself a place in the Spitting Image opening credits. Before Jennifer Lawrence fell on her way to the Oscars podium in 2013 she was merely a successful actress; afterwards she became the world’s fantasy BFF. The fall was so beneficial that when she did it again a year later, some cynics suggested it might have been on purpose. How far-fetched.

Miliband, on the other hand, clearly knew what he was doing. Although since his image as a lovable klutz is well established, even a fall truther might question whether this move was really necessary. If anyone needs to show some vulnerability, it’s bully boy Cameron, and Lynton Crosby seems like the sort of guy who always carries an emergency banana peel in his back pocket.

Parents do the craziest things

These days parenting is not so much a science as an art, a performance art, to be precise. This week’s star turn was given by Toya Graham aka “Baltimore Mom” who found an instant fan base when she dragged her 16-year-old son away from the street protests in their home city. Since footage emerged she has been lauded as “Mom of the Year” and received a congratulatory phone call from Oprah Winfrey, no less.

Graham is an example of the kind of parenting hero we’ve been hearing a lot about lately. The type includes the overprotective dads who dress their daughters in T-shirts warning off potential suitors and the people who make their children pose for Facebook pictures holding signs detailing their misdemeanours eg “I like to steal from others and lie about it!!”

Public humiliation as punishment is not new, of course, but whereas the medieval stocks were intended as a (barbaric) method of discipline, modern social media users also have a secondary motivation. They seem as interested in receiving praise for the performance of parenting as they are in their child’s welfare. The last thing you want to do with a naughty child is give them attention and the same goes for a parent who’s acting out. It only encourages them.

New plot please, Woody

There are lots of reasons why we can do without another film about a neurotic older man falling for a vivacious young woman. And yet, according to the trailer for Irrational Man, that’s exactly what Woody Allen has delivered. Never mind that the student/professor romance is a cliché which insults the intelligence of undergrads and academics alike. Never mind that depicting women as blank screens for the projection of male fantasy is off-putting for audiences. Let’s even put aside the uncomfortable parallels with the director’s life.

There’s no need to bring any of that up because, after tackling the “theme” in Manhattan (26-year age gap), Mighty Aphrodite (31-year age gap), Whatever Works (41-year age gap) and the rest, surely even Allen is getting bored by now?

How Dumb Do We Look?

I’m not saying Microsoft is a front for a shadowy power that hopes to build a database of faces that will one day be used by a dystopian police state to control us. But, if that was the secret behind viral app How Old Do I Look?, it couldn’t have been better designed for the purpose.

Twitter: @MsEllenEJones