Though I spent a great many childhood holidays on the idyllic Scottish island of Arran I don’t recall once going to Brodick Castle. My parents were not the National Trust membership-wielding type. More the “See you at tea-time – off you go up the hills in your wellies” type.

So a return visit to the island this summer merited a close examination of the noted gardens around the Castle, including this rather spooky folly, a Bavarian Summer House built for a lonesome chatelaine some time in the early-ish 19th century.

This fir cone-lined ceiling reminds me of Rome’s skeleton-lined underground catacombs – there is something deathly yet kitsch about it….

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