TWINS, FAIRY TALE CASTLES AND MYSTERIOIUS ISLANDS

This is Fort Brecqhou, the mysterious Folly of the Barclay Brothers.  (And this great photo is from Weydonia on Wikepedia.)

I think this fairy tale castle, a stunning combination of Gothic castle and grand palace, built on Brecqhou,  a rocky island in the Atlantic measuring 200 acres (under half a mile),  definitely counts as a first rate modern folly, a flight of fancy brought to life by the whim of two rich men.

It cost the Barclays Brothers 2.3million pounds to buy Brecqhou island and a further 90million, so it is said, to build this wonderful cloud capped tower of a palace. But as with all magic castles, mystery hovers over it and leaves me wondering . . .

I have a passion for islands, and in many ways the Barclays boys, David and Frederick,  have bought exactly the sort of island I would go for.  They didn't  do the boring conventional thing and buy in a hot climate, in the Caribbean like Branson, or the Bahamas like Depp, or off Madeira like Spielberg.  They bought in the Northern clime, in the cold Atlantic.  OK, so Brecqhou is one of the Channel Islands and it's washed by the warm waters of the Gulf Stream. But in winter it's still a mighty chilly place.

But that's what I love about it - imagine it in deep mid-winter, heavy dark clouds looming over its battlements, stormy seas beating around the shoreline, howling wind and rain battering the sturdy modern windows, and inside all  the warmth and comforts of the 21st century.  The kitchen stocked with goodies from Harrods (or better still, Selfridges) food department, great wines in the cellar and chrystal champagne chilling in the huge freezers. How deliciously cosy is that!  Especially for those of us who secretly harbour the Gothic tendency!

But despite my huge affection for the twins for creating something I would love to own and live in, I'm left wondering - why Brecqhou?  Why that particular island?  In many ways, it's not an ideal choice.

The Brothers, Sir David and Sir Frederick Barclay, twins born 10 minutes apart, have bought, run and sold businesses in property, hotels, shipping, leisure, gas and oil and the motor industry, turning over billions of pounds in their extraordinary careers.  Plus turning many millions over to charity.

Not bad for boys who grew up in a family of 10 children, a family which their travelling salesman father brought down from Scotland in the 1930s during the great Depression, as he looked for work.  The twins grew up in a house on the wrong side of the railway tracks in Kensington, West London, which they shared with several other families.Then, in 1947, when the twins were 13, their father died after a routine operation.

At 16 the brothers left school and begun their working life in the accounts department of GEC. But not for long. They left pdq  to set up a painting and decorating business - and the rest, as the cliche goes, is legend - though I would say it's tenacity, brains, talent and a lot of hard work.

Once upon a time, a young David took his mother to tea at the Ritz in London.  He told her that one day he would own the hotel.  And now he does.  And among many other possessions, he and his brother own The Telegraph stable of publications.

The brothers give huge sums to charity, donating £11m to Great Ormond Street Hospital in one year, and handing £3m to Alder Hey children's hospital in Liverpool in another. They were deservedly knighted for services to charity in 2000.

Journos sometimes refer to the Barclays as the Brothers Grimm - a bit unfair, this. Presumably it's because the brothers highly value their privacy. But surely the cleverest of the rich do try and adopt a low profile? There's enough free floating envy and hatred directed at the rich at the best of times, especially in the UK. Blinging it about and shouting how clever you are is never a smart move.

So you don't buy an island unless you want  privacy -  to choose the people you want to be with,  to do your own thing , and just to be yourself, and for a brief moment retreat to the comfort of your own little world.

But strangely, as this photo below shows, Brecqhou is not a very private island.  It is extremely close to another, rather bigger island, Sark. This is a shot of Brecqhou taken from Sark. A strong swimmer could probably make it across the divide between the two islands. (many thanks and credit to lostajy on flickr for this atmospheric photo).

       
David and Frederick Barclay bought Brecqhou in 1993.  As the photo shows, it is separated from Sark by an extremely narrow sound, Le Goulliot Passage, which is traversed frequently by yachts in summer and fishboats all year. So there's a lot of sea traffic constantly in close proximity to Brecqhou all the year round.  There are cameras around the the island's perimeter and there are Bond-style rumours of patrolling guards, possibly armed.  Well, why not? It's a dangerous old world out there.

The island is 20 miles off Normandy and has its own water and electricity supply. General supplies are ferried in by boats, led by the Brecqhou Warrior.

The castle or fort was designed by Charles's fav architect, Terry Quinlan, who did Poundbury, the POW's experimental village in Dorset.
According to the entry in the excellent DiCamillo Companion website on architecture, Fort Brecqhou is the largest house build in Britain in the last 200 years. The entry then goes on:
"The house is a granite-clad castle on a quadrangular plan, built in the castellated Gothic style, complete with circular turrets at the 4 corners. It features giant twisted chimneys of the style developed during the reign of Henry VIII (this chimney style is unique to English architecture). The island was purchased by the Barclay brothers in 1993 for £2.3 million, with the cost of building the house, gardens, and outbuildings estimated at £90 million."

Truly,  Brecqhou is a magnificent honey coloured cliff top fortress.  Mock Gothic with towers, spires, gilded turrets, battlements, and a moat.
Within its thick walls is a Banqueting room 80 meters long, with gold leaf ceiling. And I'm told there's a  hand painted ceiling in the Library inspired by the Sistine Chapel in Rome.
The walls are 3 ft thick granite.
There are 2 swimming pools and a helicopter pad.
There are outbuildings and cottages for the family, and presumably the staff, in the grounds.
And, predictably, rumour says there's an underground nuclear bunker.
Building was finished in 1996 after some 90,000 tons of materials were carried in by boat.

But the island is very close to its neighbour, Sark.  Too close for comfort,  perhaps? And Sark's curious 'house rules'  impinge on Brecqhou. Sark believes in primogeniture, (an exclusive right of inheritance belonging to the eldest son). Has Sark not heard of rights for women and the feminist movement? The  Barclays, like all reasonable people, want to be able to leave their money to their children as they wish. They took the island to the European Court of Human Rights and won, when the Court ruled against Sark's law of primogeniture.

So why did the twins buy Brecqhou, and not some other island unemcumbered by the feudal habits of their neighbour, in whose fiefdom they actually are?

But what could be better could also be worse. Cars are forbidden on Sark. And the big cheese on the island is referred to as the Seigneur - droit de seigneur and all that! Come on, it does rather bring up visions of lowly peasants doffing their caps to the High and Mighty. Definitely not for me. Though recently, thanks to Dave and Fred, his power has been curtailed.
 But,  Ah Ha, hang on a minute. Hey, There's no income tax!
So not everything is bad about little Sark.  

And then there's the famous, or infamous or according to your view, 'Sark Lark'

But let's leave the 'Sark Lark' for the next post.  Personally I think it's all rather jolly,  but then I'm a great believer in the freedom of the individual . . .