IN THE NEWS

LIKE many, I heard the news from Rum earlier this month with delight. The community has just been given help by a wise and canny Scottish Government. I rejoiced for crofting.

And then I waited, as one must, eagerly, expectantly, gripping the sides of my restored antique office chair, for the inevitable follow-up - news of the island's secret gem - dear to me and many who care about heritage, dear to many Scots, wonderful to see and a treasure of rare worth - what of Rum's great treasure?

But, no, nothing. Not a word. Great fanciful plans for the island have been discussed. Crofting settlements have been outlined. Trees, deer and heather debated. But of the elephant sitting plumb in the middle of the drawing room - nothing.

So I think it is time to ask directly. What on earth is Michael Russell, the environment minister, planning to do now about the wonderful Kinloch Castle on the island of Rum?

This magnificent and culturally hugely valuable building, complete with its fancy, hedonistic contents, is the Topkapi Palace of the Western Isles. It is a fragment of an era.

I visited the place to make a television programme, and was awed by it. It should have won Restoration. It was narrowly outvoted by a huge urban metropolis, Manchester, and the equally worthy Victoria Baths, but it had a profound effect on many who watched.

Here was a real undisturbed treasure, the drawers still stuffed with letters and sealing wax, the valances tucked round the beds, the cushions carelessly flung on the sofa.

It is as if Sir George Bullough, the industrialist owner, and his dancing-girl wife have just stepped out through the French windows to visit the alligators in their pond.

Romantic, hedonistic Kinloch is a fantasy Antiques Road Show of undisturbed historical bric-a-brac. It is an enchanted palace.

Many marvelled. Many were astonished. I think they would be even more
astounded to find that it languishes still, that the wallpaper is peeling further and the mould creeping on unchecked.

What this sad wreck has in common with Victoria Baths is that it is owned by the state, or rather by its handmaiden, a public institution.

It is a victim of bureaucratic neglect. The Scottish Nature Conservancy
(now Scottish Natural Heritage, its successor body) was virtually given
this treasure.

They looked after the deer and ignored the house. The deer have thrived. The house is riddled with rot and damp. A great house needs just a little basic maintenance, chaps.

Something urgent had to be done five years ago. Now it is no longer urgent. It is a scandal. The Natural Heritage people have smartened up their custodianship. They stand ready to do something. Now it is entirely up to you, Mr Russell.

You see, you own this fading beauty. It is actually your responsibility. You may want to shrug it off, offer it up to others, blame the weather, or shake your head at the economy, but just as if you had a roof on your house, it falls to you, Mr Russell.

Come on. Do something with it. Even you acknowledge that it is a hard living being a crofter. It needs dedication to survive.

So the new residents can't take responsibility for it. SNH has proved their unsuitability. We are relying on you.

In the interim, you have been offered enough help. The Prince's Regeneration Trust has drawn up expert plans to restore the extraordinary public rooms and their contents and to provide enhanced hostel and visitor accommodation.

This will pump money into the economy of the crofting community and indubitably increase the attractions of the island. This heritage site is a prime opportunity. After all, 8,000 people stayed there last year alone.

I don't know how much of a fantasist you are, Mr Russell. You probably think of me as a foolish old romantic with a taste for whimsical buildings. But let me assure you, my fantasy is no more foolish than yours.

To set up a crofting community, with no visible means of support, to rebuild a life based on sheep and deer management, is a far more fantastical notion that spending some money now to provide a heritage attraction and accommodation, with a modern tourist attraction on a proven successful model. Your residents need this plan.

There are people standing by, many of them local and fiercely committed,
who will fight and work, as local committees must, to bring in the rest of the money. That can be done.

We did it with the Hackney Empire Theatre in London's East End - another remote, poverty stricken and out of the way place as far as central government was concerned. But we gathered GBP 21 million and paid for it to be refurbished.

Everything is possible, but it needs the owner, the landlord, the ultimate authority, to shoulder responsibility first.

The knock-out truth is that none of the great funding bodies is allowed to step forward with cash until government stumps up, if it was the government itself that caused the dereliction of a building. Mr Russell, you must lead. Nobody else can. It's your call.

This gesture has been put at around GBP 3 million. It will buy time to do the necessary donkey work and get this thing moving.

So please, get off the decaying broken-down fence. Let us hear your own plans.

Every year, this fantastic palace gets more expensive to repair. Every year, the place crumbles a little more and gets more difficult to rescue.

So come on, Mr Russell. This is no time for silence. I am absolutely sure you care. Tell us. What are you going to do with Kinloch Castle?

Griff Rhys Jones is a comedian, actor and writer. He is also the presenter of the BBC's Restoration programme. This month he was appointed president of the Civic Trust, a nationwide charity that campaigns for better places in the built and green environment.

« In the news