Folio Stand or Facebook App – or there is nothing new under the sun

I felt lacking in the motivation necessary for the writing of a bestseller this morning, so instead of completing some of my NaNoWriMo word count for today I got some dreary chores done and sat down with a cuppa in front of Bargain Hunt. To be honest, I can really only ever be bothered to watch the last twenty minutes of the programme, the moment we find out whether or not the contestants have bought a load of old tat. I do find it hard to enjoy watching other people shopping, but genial host Tim Wonnacott does occasionally visit a really interesting period house or museum (for about 5 minutes)

Today he was at Belton House in Lincolnshire, a magnificent country house built in the late 17th century. It was apparently featured in the adaptation of Pride & Prejudice that Colin Firth starred in, which immediately sees my Google rankings shoot up.

Seriously though, he spent the very short time allotted to him showing us some fine antiques in the Library, which was originally the Great Dining Room.  The room  apparently holds around 6000 volumes, many of them dating from the collection of Lord Tyrconnel who died in 1754. It was stunning, the kind of room that you could sit in for hours, just breathing in the smell of old paper. (I do that kind of thing you see.)

What struck me most forcefully today however was the contrast between the objects Mr Wonnacott was describing to me and my sparkly new ‘smart phone’ thingy. I was due an upgrade and eventually came out of the shop with a lower bill and a phone that downloads tons of fun and useful ‘apps’. I spent much of yesterday biting my lower lip and resisting the urge to throw it against the wall but today I got twitter and Facebook downloaded, along with Adobe and Google Sky which can show me exactly what constellations I am looking at in the night sky. Or what I could be looking at if it wasn’t at this moment persisting down.

Anyway, in the wonderful library in Belton House, we were first shown a fabulous leather topped folio cabinet made in around 1840. It could tilt to just the right angle for reading books with poster-sized pages, and you could imagine yourself, resplendent in a pair of white gloves, carefully turning over the pages of an ancient manuscript. Then there was the folio stand for smaller documents or individual maps for example. By now I was wishing myself back in the 19th century, although in my daydreams I do have to ignore the fact that I would in all liklihood be cleaning the place rather than enjoying its comforts.