Indian Kiosk

One thing that caught my attention a while back was this totally out-of-place Indian building just sat casually minding its own business in a Shropshire field, totally out of the public gaze. And anyone who has followed this blog will know that I will always prioritise documenting the quirky stuff, even if it is something so tiny that I can stand right in the middle and touch four surfaces at the same time with my feet, outstretched hands, and scalp. I absolutely love that these eccentric hidden gems just exist, waiting to be found and enjoyed, even though they seemingly serve no purpose whatsoever beyond that of a field ornament. 

But what the fuck is this thing and why is it here?

 

 

The structure, despite it's rural setting, is in close-ish proximity to a stately home that was built in 1714 for a chap called Whitmore Acton, of the Acton Baronetcy whose name pops up all over Shropshire. Pretty much every generation has had some Acton in Parliament, and like any rich family, it's not without its scandal. It seems that for all his mansion-building and parliament-sitting, Whitmore Actons proudest achievement was keeping a married woman as a mistress while he was still in college. 

And then we have his descendants, Edward Acton who went to France and fell in love with a French girl. The girls mother decided to protect her from this creepy older man by sending her off to become a nun, but Edward was so fixated that he became a doctor, and then became chief medical advisor to all of the local convents just so that he could hunt her down. And then the sixth Baron, John Acton, married his thirteen-year-old niece when he was 64. So there you go. Would it be a real story about a rich family if there was no incest and noncery?

But the Actons didn't build this Indian thingie. While Whitmore did want to live in the nearby mansion with his widowed Aunt Hester, he instead set his sights on a house in Bridgnorth and subsequently abandoned this area, although it is believed that his own widow would live there following his death in 1732, up until her own death in 1759. The 1700s were when follies started becoming popular, and utterly bonkers garden features were all the rage, so I thought the Indian hut would be part of the estate then, but it turns out it wasn't.

 

 

Here's another angle for photo-padding. This one captures its delightfully silly sloped roof, which indicates a sort of not-too-bothered-about-perfectionism attitude. It also has a rear window, which is odd, because if we peek through the door we can see that it is completely obstructed by this water tank. 

 

 

I found out that a chap called Kennedy moved into the mansion in the late 1960s, allegedly finding it derelict and full of livestock. As such his new home was a work in progress that he decided to recreate in a marvelously eccentric way. The Indian structure was built in the 1970s to cover up this water tank. But there's a bit more to the story than him simply moving here and deciding to build something wacky to hide something ugly. 

See, down around Wolverhampton somewhere was another stately home, Tettenhall Wood Hall, built around 1833 for Theodosia Hinkes, who inherited that estate and consequently had a grand, castellated monstrosity built to the designs of a chap called Thomas Rickman, an architect who was an expert in Gothic architecture. That entire estate was decorated with fantastic architectural features and stained glass windows, but by the mid 20th Century some developer wankers had decided that they wanted to rip it all down in exchange for a bunch of dull, soulless houses. 

The occupant at the time, Ethel Hickman, made a deal that they could demolish the house six months after she passed away. To her credit, she did drag it out as long as she could, making it to 103 before passing away in 1969, whereupon her mansion was demolished.

But first, huge chunks of it were auctioned off. Numerous people swooped in to save the stained glass windows, but other parts of the structure were popular too. Kennedy showed on multiple occasions with a crowbar and a trailer, and just took what he could. 

It seems that the Indian shack was part of that whole rescue mission, and even though I can't find any photo evidence of that, not far away from the Indian structure is this curiously pointless monument.

 

And when I say "Pointless," I mean it in the sense that monuments are typically erected to commemorate something, whereas this one isn't. Its just there, sticking out of the ground collecting bird droppings. But that wasn't always the case. Prior to it being bundled into a trailer and taken to Shropshire, this was a fountain at Tettenhall Wood House, and I've managed to find an old photo of it.

 

(Image not mine, obviously)

Many other eccentric structures now decorate the former not-a-home of Whitmore Acton, and it's said that they're made almost entirely out of bits pilfered from Tettenhall prior to its demolition. Some of these can actually be seen from the road. He built a little summer house in the garden, and a castellated tractor shed. 

And why the fuck not? He sounds like a brilliant guy, and I'm all for saving cool stuff if it's only going to get destroyed. 

But as if decorating his land with bonkers buildings isn't eccentric enough, Kennedy was best known for constructing a ginormous medieval trebuchet which he used primarily to hurl cars across his fields, partly for an event to raise money for a new organ at the local church, but mostly for fun, let's be honest. He could easily have got them a new organ with the money that he spent building the trebuchet, but it's way more fun this way. 

Here's a video of it.

(Footage not mine, obviously)

But unfortunately in 2001 Kennedy did come under fire from the RSPCA when it came to light that he was also throwing dead cows and dead horses, which seems a little outside of their sphere of dominion. I mean, the animals are already dead. There's plenty of other things that need their attention. I think they said it was symbolic of treating animals as disposable playthings, or something, so I do kinda see their point. 

To his credit they did use trebuchets to weaponise dead livestock in the medieval times, so he clearly just wanted to replicate the era authentically. But on the subject, Kennedy said "Not all of them burst on impact but when they do, the local kids love paddling in the guts," which is just such an entertaining response.

 

It is said that the trebuchet rotted and had to be disposed of back in 2006, so sadly there are no more displays of cars being hurled across vast empty fields. Kennedy himself seems to have retired to smaller digs, leaving the estate to his children, but the quirky architecture remains.

 

The folly in their garden is incorporated into the wall, so it can be glimpsed from the outside. And then just up from that there's this castellated tractor shed.

And really, I'm just glad that this stuff exists. Every time someone quirky and creative unleashes something bonkers or unconventional into the world, the world gets slightly less shit. And from a heritage perspective, all of this is supposedly rescued from a fantastic mansion that no longer exists. It would have all been destroyed in 1969 if it hadn't been rescued. Kennedy can't take the credit for rescuing all of it, because he wasn't the only person there with itchy fingers, but he has definitely made a little far-flung corner of Shropshire unique.

 

My next blogs will be carrying on Loose-End Season with some pillboxes, so that we can cover some military epicness, and then I'm doing something small and Welsh on my travel blog. 

In the meantime, the best way to get blog updates is by following my social media. I'm active on Instagram, Vero, Facebook, and Reddit. I also have Threads and Twitter, but I forget about those all the time.

Thanks for reading!