When you're set on stone

As an impressive (and heavy) haul of Indian temple parts wings its way into Roger Field's garden, he explains the increasing importance of research when buying 'cultural objects'

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I've really done it this time. ‘Overreached’ might be one word, although a couple of my ex-Army chums were less charitable: ‘Bonkers’ wrote one, ‘Lost your marbles?’ chimed in another, while a third wondered whether the Indian government was going to haul me and my recent purchases back to the subcontinent. This was a good point — one I had researched before ‘going bonkers’.

So, what had caused this merriment and abuse? Answer: I bought a number of chunks (I use the word advisedly) of an old ‘Indian temple — Mughal period’ at John Rolfe Auctions on 14 September. I decided to risk not warning my own long-haired architect that I intended buying sizeable slabs of stone on two presumptions. First, I considered the mostly £80 to £120/£200 to £300 estimates for the 87 lots on offer (the majority with multiple bits in each lot) as being seriously ‘come hither’; in other words, low. Why cause pre-auction marital mayhem if I was unlikely to end up bringing anything unexpected home?

Secondly — and this excuse, I concede, is a tad more tenuous — a decade ago, at a country house auction in the Chilterns, having taken the dog for a wander, we spotted a load of well-carved stone hidden deep in the undergrowth. Poking and pulling revealed what looked to be one wall of a once fine folly. My own Montana Don was all up for that bit of garden-enhancement lunacy and encouraged me to bid, even when I pointed out what fun we wouldn't have transporting home and re-erecting such large blocks of stone. Anyway, we were both disappointed, but somewhat relieved, when I ended up the underbidder.