“IF I WASN'T THE MAJOR, what would I be doing here? What would I have to gain?” – These were the words with which I first met the Major, sole resident and caretaker of Throglegg Manor.

The Major is not a tall man (or, indeed, woman) but what he lacks in verticality, he more than makes up for in sheer presence. He speaks with the authority of a man with a first in metallurgy (in reality, he only achieved a 2:2), his gravelly tones commanding the attention of an entire room. Needless to say, he rolls his own ‘R’s. His face is full of bluster, with a ruddy complexion and piercing blue eyes. Where once were no jowls, hang jowls, and his moustache literally bristles with bristles. His left cheek flirts constantly with his hips, giving the impression he is chewing eye candy. He is a product of a different era, when men went to war and women worked in factories making ammunition and babies.

The Major greets me with a crushing handshake (one of his great strengths is his great strength). Within minutes, he proves a warm and gracious host – quite unlike how he is portrayed on the BBC. He hands me a knowing wink for use later when he intends to share a private joke and, almost at once, I feel at ease in his company. Not comfortable enough, say, to share a crowded armchair, but comfortable enough to ask for one of his cigars, which I proceed to do. It is thus over cognac and cigars, ensconced in the dark wood and plush leather bookcases of the drawing room, that the Major begins recounting the fascinating history of Throglegg Manor.

Built in 1872, Throglegg Manor was originally conceived as a farm, the central manor house surrounded by land with animals on it. The Throglegg family (the Major’s ancestors) wished to retire to the property but still run a modest farming venture in the industry that had made their fortune (farming). Regrettably, the farm suffered huge losses during its first few years, due in part to the Great Sheep Evacuation of 1875, but mainly as a result of bad management decisions, such as Lord Throglegg’s insistence that the cows wore Viking helmets. The family eventually abandoned the site in 1881 and moved back to London.

The property remained vacant for many years, before reopening as an orphanage in 1906. The orphanage steadily grew in popularity, soon becoming the place to abandon children. In the early 1910s, placing a child at Throglegg Manor was an essential status symbol for the upper classes, much like top hats and false eyebrows.

During the First World War, the property was shipped to Ypres to serve as a safe whorehouse for British spies. With hostilities over, the house triumphantly returned to England to be decorated by King George V, receiving numerous medals and new wallpaper throughout. The Major received his own honours during the Second World War, following which he took up residence at Throglegg Manor. He has never left (except to visit aquariums).

Over the last 60 years, Throglegg’s colourful history has continued, featuring in period films such as Blade Runner and hosting regular episodes of Countdown. Today, the property houses a popular museum of top-loading VCRs and hosts an annual charity event to raise money for corporations with undervalued share prices. The Major takes a passive interest in these affairs but, for the most part, is content to relax in the grounds and enjoy his retirement. As he sits back in his chair, I pose my final question: Will there be further unexpected chapters in Throglegg Manor’s story? “Well, you can put a dog in an oven but that doesn’t make it a biscuit”, he replies.