I was carried away last week, while describing the architecture of Lakmahal, by some of the dogs who had inhabited the house. This was inevitable because I had wanted, in celebrating the place, to revive memories of its denizens too. And since it was because of my pleas as a little boy that dogs, just six of them in the seventy year history of the house, were finally allowed to reside inside the house, to sleep in a bedroom, usually mine, and join us at meals, I feel a personal obligation to enter them too into the record.
But in those days, when I was young and gregarious, I welcomed people too, and was delighted when the guest rooms were occupied. There were two of them, a long large room that lay behind the piano room extension of the drawing room, and a tiny room that lay behind the larger one, at the south west corner of the house. Originally this had had a door that led out into the tiny yard between the main house and the servants’ quarters, but when I came back from university I found this closed up, doubtless as security questions became more worrying.