Cardiff, parrots, old friends, Ninian

[smokingboot]

Cardiff has a lot of parrots in it. I mean a lot of parrots, more than I've ever seen anywhere else, including Egypt and Nepal. They live in a brightly jewelled castle, full of funky carvings and neat decorations. The Marquis of Bute, who redecorated Cardiff Castle in the late 1800s picked a dazzling architect/designer, who made the place a tribute to the Marquis' interests and his own. The marquis liked biblical study, language, and medieval times. The architect liked parrots.

It wasn't just parrots, though clearly they held pride of place. Pillars with beetles and flies and seahorses painted round them, fountains of bronze beavers pointing their fish at you like little gatling guns, crabs and butterflies dotted all over the walls...I'm such a kid about this stuff.

We were in Cardiff to celebrate the 15 years greatbigshowoff and wildwinter have spent together. The party was something of a cunning ruse organised by greatbigshowoff, as her partner had no clue we were all going to be there until shortly beforehand. Then the band played, the dancing started, old friends talked and people munched at the huge buffet...it was a much simpler night than their beautiful Notwedding 5 years ago, but very satisfying. We had decided to make a weekend of it in Cardiff, and though I enjoyed shopping and the waterfront (must confess I cannot be as rabidly devoted as Russel T DrWhoAteChipsHereCoolOrWhat?) the castle was the biggie for me.

One room was not medieval; it was kept very simple and elegant with portraits, including a one of a young man in the jodphurs outfit of a first world war officer. Perhaps the painter had imbued the canvas with forlorn knowledge, as I could find no date for the painting, but it had a great pathos to it; one looked and instantly knew the gentleman had died in the war. He was handsome in a terribly English way, all rose bud cheeks and blue eyes and full lips hidden under a terrifying moustache - the sort of thing a very young man attempts to look strong and older. A delicate face, eyes with a gentle expression, Ninian Crichton-Stewart, one of the sons of the house. All gone. While he lived he was wealthy and loved and I reminded myself of the millions not immortalised, poor, plain and forgotten. But still, I couldn't help a sadness for Ninian. I waited till the others went into the library, and told him goodbye before we left the castle for sunshine.

Comments

[semyaza.livejournal.com]

I googled Ninian Crichton-Stewart -- because it's a beautiful name and belongs in a fictional alternate universe -- and this post was the third hit. :D

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

His whole name sounds the way he looked. I'm sure there's a word for that! Didn't C.S. Lewis use 'Ninian' as a name for a Narnian prince?

My googlings were equally unsuccessful. All I found were bronzes of aristocrats and photos of rugby players, all of them moon pigs!

[semyaza.livejournal.com]

Possibly. He liked names ending in 'ian'.

He died at Loos and left a painting and a statue. :(

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

In the photos the statues don't convey much to me; it says something that we passed it in the grounds and I barely noticed it. I found a sketch on google, don't know if it's the same Ninian, but this was a profile with far less Rupert Brooks glamour...a face too young for authority and a receding hairline, and little more to it than that. I wish I could find a copy of the portrait.

In a photo in the castle circa late 1800s he is shown as one of the Marquis' sons, a toddler dressed as a girl. They did that regularly, presumably to chase away the cruel but dim spirits who would nick one's precious males while disregarding those pesky XXs. Cunning use of petticoats confuses them every time. Demons, tcha!

[greatbigshowoff.livejournal.com]

The castle is wonderful isn't it. Interesting what you can do with unlimited money!

Thank you so much for coming. We had a wonderful evening

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

It was very much our pleasure, thank you for your hospitality. Been far too long!