Tigers wandering around a stately home? No danger Grandma, I’ll take care of you. We just follow the paw prints and look for tigers in each room until we find the kitchen.
Was it for the children or the parents/grandparents? Who could tell? It certainly added to the excitement having a child or more along. Nonetheless, without one we enjoyed it greatly, following the trail of tiny tigers hidden (not too obscurely) in a number of rooms. Perhaps the most difficult was in the dining room: it certainly caused one little girl a problem or two; she was ready to give it up despite the ‘getting warmer, getting cooler’ advice from her mother. Then at last she found it. Delight all round.
The trail of paw prints was easy enough to follow, of course, but exciting all the same. We left the families to lead the way but had no idea what would be found in the kitchen. Not only a large tiger but several small tiger suits for the children turned the place into – if not quite a jungle – a joyful menagerie.
Just so we could pretend not to be in second childhood there was an exhibition of the art that fills the book and a large album illustrating the life of Judith Kerr, its author.
Books of a different kind were in the Blickling library, including some of the earliest printed books. Of course there was a tiger too: naturally enough, on a bookshelf.
The state bedroom offered the greatest contrast: a grand bed with a tiny tiger on a plinth near its foot. That kind of challenge is difficult for small eyes, having problems with small targets as they focus generally rather than specifically.
One other enjoyable aspect was that the children were allowed to wear their tiger suits in other parts of the house, and even in the restaurant. Tiny tigers (and large ones) for sale may have eased the pain when they finally had to divest themselves.
It was a splendid way of encouraging children to visit a stately home. Let us hope it is not necessary to wait for another fiftieth anniversary of publication before the National Trust does it again.
