Take a video tour of Veere Grenney's eighteenth-century folly in Suffolk
It was 1966 when a teenage Veere Grenney first came across an image of The Temple in Stoke by Nayland in a book by David Hicks. The image shows a ‘Before’ and ‘After’ of this perfect little confection of a building. The long canal that stretches in front is overgrown with algae, and the house looks almost derelict, its plaster piebald, its roof slightly sagging. Hicks in fact had saved the building from demolition in the late Fifties. John Fowler, then living at the Hunting Lodge (later taken over by Nicky Haslam), helped to plant the hedges and advised Hicks on the restoration.
From his childhood bedroom in New Zealand - or ‘Surrey in the South Pacific’ as he describes it - Veere worshipped the work of David Hicks from afar, finding through English magazines a ‘new definition of what was beautiful and chic.’
In the intervening years Veere has established himself as one of the most influential designers of his generation. A decorator of virtuosic range, as comfortable furnishing a modernist apartment as he is an ancient country house, his work (much copied) is grounded in a crisp, tailored attention to detail.
It may surprise some to know that after he left New Zealand in the Seventies he spent years travelling the hippy trail before landing in London, where he lived in a squat in Notting Hill, his room decorated with a rotating cornucopia of antiques, which he sold first from a stall in Portobello, then from a shop in Westbourne Grove. He began to develop his own vocabulary of beauty. ‘That was the only way I could imagine breaking into the world that I loved. I then always used to go to a country house at the weekend to look at its decoration. I adored joining the world that I now inhabit. The world of creative people.’
He eventually caught the eye of Mary Fox Linton - still in partnership at the time with David Hicks - who asked him to come and work in her shop. He was 32 and it was his first proper job. He bought a small bedsit in Notting Hill.
In 1985 he was offered a job at Sibyl Colefax and John Fowler, and almost immediately sold his flat and put 90% of the proceeds into taking on the lease of The Temple. ‘Utter madness,’ he laughs. ‘But I’ve never regretted it for a moment. Of course, it was never meant to be lived in. When I first moved here, it was quite primitive. Charming, but not comfortable.’
Two years after Veere took on the house the great storm of 1987 decimated the 250 year old sweet chestnut trees that line the canal. Though heartbreaking, the damage became the catalyst for the second great leap in the building's contemporary restoration. Veere began putting down roots, both literally and figuratively, replanting both avenues of trees, dredging the canal and turning the house into a place of comfort. ‘It's been my passion ever since. For almost 40 years now I have spent every weekend that I can in this house.’
The building consists of a wonderful Palladian central room - ‘Robert Taylor probably had in mind a round table in the middle with chairs, where you'd come and take tea and watch the master of the house fishing’ - beneath which is a small kitchen and dining room. This leads to a cabin-sized bedroom, above which Veere has installed a mezzanine bathroom with bath and shower. The house now has central heating, working electrics and a dishwasher, and in what was formerly the kennels, Veere has created an adjacent annex for guests, with two comfortable bedrooms and bathrooms.
‘The decoration is quite neutral, you could argue,’ he says. ‘But somehow the architecture carries everything. This house is high-low. The central sitting room is of course grand, but the rest is like a cottage. I think there's nothing lovelier. I don't need the mediocrity of either. I like the extreme of both. It is a miniature expression of the ideals of Palladian architecture. A perfect building in a pastoral setting. And there's no better view in the world–one side overlooking a Constable landscape, and the other side down a formal canal looking onto Repton Park.’
Veere describes the central sitting room as being ‘like a canvas. The glorious thing is it needs no paintings. The architecture itself lives.’ Four busts carrying the heads of Roman emperors representing the four ages of man line the walls, and on the ceiling the frieze of fruit and flowers represents the cornucopia of abundance. The walls are in a colour borrowed from Nancy Lancaster. ‘It was mixed for me by her niece Elizabeth Wynn. She called it “Potted Shrimp”, but over the years we have come to call it “Temple Pink.”
The festoon blinds - made of Fox Linton satin and taffeta from Tissus d'Helene - disguise the fact that the windows on one side of the room finish higher than those on the other. ‘The challenge with the decoration was to ensure that there was a balance between the grand salon and the small rooms. It needed to be formal but comfortable.’
This has been achieved through an airy colour scheme and clever furniture choices. 'In the guest annex there is only room for a bed, but one way to make a room like this seem bigger is to select a compact four-poster: It creates a feeling of grandeur and makes the proportions of the room seem larger.'
Every corner of the house has been tailored for utility and comfort. Storage has been elegantly, subtly inserted into every available space, and furniture arranged so that the view is visible from virtually every seat. Even Veere’s bedroom, tiny as a ship's cabin, has double doors a foot from the end of the bed that open onto the canal.
‘It's been a great place of celebration, but it's also been a wonderful place of meditation, retreat and appreciation. When I think back on my life I don't think I could have had the career I have unless I had this place to return to. It is a property that was built solely for pleasure,' says Veere, 'and that is a tradition I intend to uphold.'
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