Je ne suis pas Cecil… and neither was the lion (and that’s not his brother either)

spectator logo

I was originally asked to write this piece by The Spectator, but apparently I was a bit too late filing my copy – zoology professors and professional hunters are hard to round up at short notice – so here it is, unexpurgated and unimproved.

AFH

Photo courtesy of Slate -  ©Andrew Loveridge/Wildlife Conservation Unit

Photo courtesy of Slate – ©Andrew Loveridge/Wildlife Conservation Unit

Je ne suis pas Cecil… and neither was he

I never cease to be surprised either by the posturing courage or the sheer inhumanity of the expressions of ‘moral’ outrage on social media, but this recent furore over the death of the ageing Zimbabwean lion everyone knows as Cecil really has been quite special.

The complicity of the press is particularly grotesque. CNN went as far as to run a photo of the big cat with the caption, “Cecil the lion probably never knew how beloved he was,” surely winning some sort of prize for most redundant use of the modifier ‘probably’ in journalism.

He also certainly didn’t know he was called Cecil, a hilarious piece of nominal colonialism by British conservationists working in the country bloodily carved out of the Dark Continent by Cecil Rhodes and for almost a century called Southern Rhodesia in his questionable honour. (Rhodes is a distant relation of mine.)

This lion is called 'Bailey' (wild animals should not be named) the only male lion at Colchester Zoo. He was born on June 27th, 2007 at Woburn Safari Park. His father, 'Shane', was born at Knowsley Safari Park in June 1997, and his mother, 'Tamby', was born at Woburn on October 13, 1998. All these lions are descended from those brought into the UK from Uganda by Jimmy Chipperfield, of Chipperfield's Circus, to counter the inbreeding of British lions over the centuries.

I took this photo on January 23rd this year and put it on Facebook with the following caption:
“This lion is called ‘Bailey’ (wild animals should not be named) the only male lion at Colchester Zoo. He was born on June 27th, 2007 at Woburn Safari Park. His father, ‘Shane’, was born at Knowsley Safari Park in June 1997, and his mother, ‘Tamby’, was born at Woburn on October 13, 1998. All these lions are descended from those brought into the UK from Uganda by Jimmy Chipperfield, of Chipperfield’s Circus, to counter the inbreeding of British lions over the centuries.”
(Photo: Alexander Fiske-Harrison)

I myself fell under the aesthetic spell of lions aged nine –thirty years ago – in London and Colchester Zoos, joined and raised funds for the WWF from that point on, went up to Oxford to study Zoology under renowned Africa ecologist Dr. Malcolm Coe, and myself visited the Hwange Reserve almost twenty years ago where I followed the pride made up of the grandparents, and probably parents, of that lion, whom I photographed at the time.

Following the pride in Hwange National Park (Photo: Alexander Fiske-Harrison)

Following the pride in the Hwange National Park, Zimbabwe in 1996 (Photo: Alexander Fiske-Harrison)

[Read more…]

From Spain, the Centre of the World, to Africa, the Heart of Darkness

Estoy en mi chaqueta de rayas en la plaza de toros de Pamplona, 13 de julio de 2015. A mi derecha es Lore Monig, Presidenta del New York City Club Taurino, a mi derecha, el chef celebridad y torero práctico de México, Carlos Manríquez (Foto : Jim Hollander)

In my striped jacket in the plaza de toros of Pamplona, 13 of July 2015. To my right, Lore Monig, President of the New York City Club Taurino, to my left, the celebrity chef and amateur bullfighter from Mexico, Carlos Manríquez, beyond him Peter Remington, publisher of Modern Luxury Houston magazine and his brother (Photo: Jim Hollander)

 

Having come out of the delights and dangers of Pamplona’s feria de San Fermín running with bulls – already described in the abstract on ‘The Pamplona Post‘, also detailed with a more purist slant on the blog, ‘The Last Arena‘ – I was particularly pleased to see my more cerebral, less visceral side represented in my review of Dr Robert Goodwin’s magnum opus, Spain: The Centre Of The World, 1519-1682 (Bloomsbury Press) in The Spectator. In summary, my view of the book is:

What distinguishes Goodwin from other historians of the period is the sheer multiplicity of his perspectives. He is erudite and concise in covering familiar ground, while full of original insight when it comes to the motives and actions of the key players…

…it is [his] passion that removes Goodwin’s learned book from the shelves of academia, giving it breadth and breath. The most notable effect on this reader was an urge to return to Spain, especially to Goodwin’s beloved Seville, that ‘deeply religious and very beautiful provincial backwater’, with ‘its quiet lanes and courtyards’, its ‘grand monuments’ and its ‘ghosts’. After all, it is not enough to bring truth to history. One must also bring life — and this book has it in golden abundance.

(The review is available in full online here.)

Now I must turn myself to the contentious issue of Big Game hunting for the same magazine in the light of the death of the aged male lion some Oxford biologists rather tastelessly and unprofessionally anthropomorphised with the name Cecil. (Cecil Rhodes was the colonial overlord of Zimbabwe, hence its colonial name of Rhodesia.)

This is an event my own former zoology tutor at Oxford – who has worked hand-in-glove with both the Kenyan and Tanzanian governments on conservation over the decades – referred to in his email as “murder”. He also ended the email, “suffice it to say that I am on the side of the large mammals of Africa excluding the destructive Homo sapiens.”

I do find his response a little ironic, as I remember in my interview with him in ’93 he asked me which of the Pleistocene megafauna had most caught my interest. (It was my time in the Kruger Park in South Africa that inspired me to go and study under him.) I answered unequivocally “lion”, to which his response was how boring they were to study as they spend most of their time asleep. Later I would end up in the Hwange National Park in Zimbabwe, from where Cecil came, following what would have been his grandparents and great uncles and aunts.

 

Following the pride in Hwange National Park (Photo: Alexander Fiske-Harrison)

Following the pride in the Hwange National Park, Zimbabwe in 1996 (Photo: Alexander Fiske-Harrison)

 

Sub-adult lion, Hwange National Park

Sub-adult lion, Hwange National Park, Zimbabwe in 1996 (Photo: Alexander Fiske-Harrison)

 

Anyway, given that I can count among my friends both professional hunters and conservation biologists, and have myself no immensely strong views about the death of animals lower on the cognitive ‘chain of being’ than elephants – a notion of moral status outlined for Prospect magazine, and derivative from my time with Great Apes described in the Financial Times – I hope I’m in a good position to write the piece in a way that lives up to my description in today’s Daily Telegraph magazine: “he is a stone-cold pragmatist with a poet’s soul.”

However, as a child, my best friend was this cat, so in the end, I’ll be on the side of the predators. The question is: which ones?

 

The author and his first cat

Alexander Fiske-Harrison and Shantallah Millionaire, a name rather more fitting to the beast than Cecil (Photo: Barbara Gail Horne)

 

Alexander Fiske-Harrison

 

Back to the bulls – from St-Jean-de-Luz to Pamplona

Hôtel La Réserve, Saint-Jean-de-Luz, France (Photo: Alexander Fiske-Harrison)

Hôtel La Réserve, Saint-Jean-de-Luz, France (Photo: Alexander Fiske-Harrison)

St-Jean-de-Luz has provided the most amazing break away from Pamplona for my fiancée and I, but now I must return to Pamplona. Our hotel, Résidence La Réserve, in the hills just outside has been perfect as an escape, the heat of the sun nicely cut through with the cool winds from the Atlantic, the waves crashing on the rocks far below as background music to the idyll. (The surfing up the road in Biarritz was excellent as well.) And lunch in the Michelin-starred Zoko Moko in town was definitely our meal of the year (and their €26 lunch deal was not the usual off-cuts from the chef’s main table, as the man himself came out and explained.) More than worth a visit. And a revisit.

However, now I am off back to the bulls and the feria de San Fermín, with an interview already booked in post-encierro,’bull-run’, tomorrow for Esquire TV at 8.10a.m. Madrid-time. See you then. Meanwhile, you can read my musings on all matters taurine at The Last Arena, and on Pamplona in particular at The Pamplona Post. And if you are headed there, remember that the only official guide to the running of the bulls in the English language is Fiesta: How To Survive The Bulls Of Pamplona.

Alexander Fiske-Harrison

Meanwhile outside Pamplona…

Hotel La Réserve in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, France (Photo: Alexander Fiske-Harrison)

Hotel La Réserve in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, France (Photo: Alexander Fiske-Harrison)

I am currently taking a break from the madness of the Feria de San Fermín in Pamplona with my fiancée for a long weekend in St-Jean-de-Luz. The views are very different here as you can see from my ‘desk shot’ above. Anyway, I see my latest contribution to Taki’s Magazine has come out today so here it is. A controversial stance on gun control, and a reversal of my previous position. When I’m wrong, I publish the fact… However, Pamplona carries on in my absence and updates will continue at The Pamplona Post. A lovely photo one of Ernest Hemingway’s great-grandchildren talking with me by another reminds me I head back to the beauty and the madness on Sunday evening!

John Hemingway, author and grandson of Ernest, in conversation with Alexander Fiske-Harrison, British author and bullfighter, at Bar Windsor, Pamplona, July 7th 2015, photographed by Cristen Hemingway Jaynes, another of the Nobel Prize-winners grandchildren

John Hemingway, author and grandson of Ernest, in conversation with Alexander Fiske-Harrison, British author and bullfighter, at Bar Windsor, Pamplona, July 7th 2015, photographed by Cristen Hemingway Jaynes, one of the Nobel Prize-winners great-grandchildren

Alexander Fiske-Harrison

THE PAMPLONA POST: Pamplona 2015 begins…

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Fiesta: How To Survive The Bulls Of Pamplona 2015 is the only official guide in the English language (see the Mayor’s foreword in post below.) The 1/3 price offer on this eBook guide to running the bulls expires in less than 48 hours, on Monday morning. After the first encierro, ‘bull-run’ on Tuesday it goes up a further 50%, back to its original price. Immediately below is my Preface to this new 2015 edition.

Alexander Fiske-Harrison

For Amazon (US), $4.99, click here. For Amazon UK, £3, click here. For Amazon Australia – $6.50 – click here. For Amazon Canada – $6 – click here. And similarly for Spain, France, Germany, Netherlands, Mexico, Brazil, Italy, China, Japan, India

Preface to the Second Edition of 2015 by the Editor

The 2014 Feria del Toro is opened by the galloping alguaciles, ‘judges’, in the plaza de toros (Photo: Jim Hollander)

The 2014 Feria del Toro is opened by the galloping alguaciles, ‘judges’, in the plaza de toros (Photo: Jim Hollander)

The great Fiesta of last year, the feria de San Fermín of 2014 was an astonishing thing, but when is it not? However, as a direct result of it, there was a not a corner of the Earth, nor a language spoken by man, where this eBook was not talked about. It started quietly: I wrote an article for Newsweek in early July giving an update on the world of bullfighting and Pamplona’s place in it, ending with a mention of the book. Our photographer, Jim Hollander, had some of his photos from the book up on CNN and John Hemingway did a piece for them as well. Maybe we took it too far, maybe there was an element of hubris when I said to the ‘Diary’ section of London’s main newspaper, the Evening Standard, that we were taking bets on which of the authors might get gored. Evening%20Standard%20Comment

Alexander Fiske-Harrison’s feeling bullish about some bloody memoirs Someone hide the red flags. The author and “bullfighter-philosopher” Alexander Fiske-Harrison has teamed up with John Hemingway — grandson of the novelist and bloodsports enthusiast Ernest — to put together a collection of essays and accounts of the infamous Spanish bull-running festival. Fiesta: How to Survive the Bulls of Pamplona also includes a brief memoir by the daughter of another famous bullfighting enthusiast – the film director Orson Welles – as well as instructions how to run from the best Spanish and American bull-runners. “We’re dividing the profits between the five major contributors,” Fiske-Harrison tells ‘The Londoner’, “but as photographer Jim Hollander pointed out, he gets the best deal — he’s the only one not running with the bulls in two weeks so may well be the only one around to collect! Although since I’m the editor, he’s going to have to get the money out of my bank account.”

Well, the rest is history: one of our main co-authors Bill Hillmann had a horn punched straight through his leg by an angry half ton bull and it missed his femoral artery by an inch. This then went around the world as the ironic story of the year. To read on click here.

James Rhodes and Arnold House School: A question of journalistic ethics

Since the rest of the journalistic world has not said a balanced word on this, I thought I would before I set off for Pamplona and my annual “running of the bulls” (henceforth you’ll find me over at The Pamplona Post.)

Xander

Arnold House School Photo 1982

Arnold House School Photo 1982 – as blurred as the author’of this post’s memories of the time

James Rhodes and Arnold House School

‘Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were,” said Marcel Proust in 1913. “Many people believe that memory works like a recording device, but decades of research has shown that’s not the case. Memory is constructed and reconstructed. It’s more like a Wikipedia page — you can go change it, but so can other people,” said Professor Elizabeth Loftus of UCI in 2013, with notably less elegance but quite a lot more research.

These statements ring particularly true to me since one of my earliest memories is of having another, even older, memory proved false by my brother Jules. The memory he challenged was that I had been able to fly but had subsequently lost the ability. He managed to convince me that what I had actually done was miscategorise the memory of a dream of flying as a memory of the reality of doing it. The very verb itself, ‘to re-member’, to put back together, is the strongest clue of all to its fallibility.

We live, at this moment in time, in the midst of a deluge of dark memories erupting on to the pages of our newspapers, with accusations of sexual abuse coming thick and fast against public figures, and inevitably, some of them are true and some of them are false, and the ratio of true to false is perhaps the greatest battle ground of all.

This, of course, is a cyclical thing. The last time the wheel turned to this point, the scandal was concerning ‘repressed’ memories, a witch-hunt which surpassed Salem with claims of satanic abuse circles in the 1980s. I was a philosophy of science postgraduate when that one finally died the death and remember studying that piece of pseudoscience being brilliantly taken apart by Professor Richard McNally of Harvard in his seminal 2003 book Remembering Trauma. As he pointed out, how many Auschwitz survivors forgot about the Holocaust, even when it wasn’t being discussed (as it wasn’t, for some time after)? And with that rather obvious realisation the whole structural underpinning of things like Dissociative Identity Disorder (commonly called Multiple Personality Disorder) comes into question.

My own childhood was thankfully free from such darknesses, or so my memory had me believe. Until, that is, I came across an article in The Times in May with the headline ‘James Rhodes thanks Cumberbatch and Fry for support over abuse memoir’. Something stirred in my recollective recesses at that, and so I read on.

Apparently Rhodes, something of a Nigel Kennedy-figure in the world of classical piano, had just won a court case against his ex-wife, and was as a result free to publish his memoirs containing detailed memories of his serious sexual abuse as a child. There was something terribly familiar about the name, although I didn’t know him as a pianist.

Then I read that the “memoirs detail how Peter Lee, his boxing coach at Arnold House preparatory school in north London, began raping him when he was six.”

And it suddenly came to me: I knew James Rhodes because I was at Arnold House school with him in those boxing classes with Peter Lee. The of us are in the photo above taken in the summer of 1982 when I was almost six and he had just turned seven. In the detail below you can see us both, while standing in line above me is my brother Jules and somewhere in the photo is Rhodes’s own older brother Matthew.

Detail of 1982 photo - author bottom left

Detail of 1982 photo – author of this post bottom left

I first met Peter Lee at about that time and trained with him consistently for years, as the medals in the other photo attest, and my memories of him are jarringly different to those of Rhodes. My brother Jules was one of his pupils, but he is now sadly dead so I could not ask him, but our oldest brother Byron had been one of Lee’s star boxers in the 1970s. So I asked him what he thought about these ‘revelations’, and his reply was frankly, unprintable. Let’s just say that his memories of “Mr Lee” are more like mine. As are our parents, who employed the man on an out of school basis for a decade and a half.

However, as I’ve noted, memory is a false friend and the darkness and inscrutability of the human soul is something of which I am all too aware. Is it possible he was a predatory paedophile, I asked myself, and the answer came back: yes, humans are animal, and in some the bestial comes out only intermittently, only when the environment allows it. So then I asked myself about that environment: how, logistically, could this have happened?

By which I mean, how could someone rape a six year old child and get away with it? After all, Arnold House was and is a preparatory day school, not a care home, nor some great sprawling country boarding school where boys seldom see their parents and there are plenty of dark corners for dark things to occur in. Arnold House is made up of three small buildings on just over half acre of north-west London, containing fourteen classrooms in constant use, a gym, a dining room and a small, tarmac playground. In that tiny space dwell two hundred pupils under the scrutiny of twenty teachers, not including catering, cleaning, maintenance and secretarial staff. It was a hothouse, in both the disciplinary and academic senses, being a feeder school for Westminster.

I can best illustrate how ‘clean’ that atmosphere was with an anecdote: I was a rebel as a child, constantly in trouble, but when I arrived at Eton aged thirteen, I had never smoked a cigarette. So when, in my first week, a friend from the 70-acre boarding school Summer Fields took me for my first cigarette somewhere in Eton’s 400 acre grounds, I was taken aback at the sheer quantity of ungoverned space available for misbehaviour. (I went on to hold the record for misbehaviour at that school.)

What was more, this was, as mentioned, a day school, and the Rhodes family lived on the same street as the school, about 50 doors, or 500 yards, further down. He was dropped at the school in the morning, and collected in the afternoon by his mother. To put it bluntly, brutally even, how did no one notice the injuries caused by an adult male raping a three foot tall, forty pound child? Was he allowed to bathe entirely autonomously aged six? I am not denying it happened, certainly not – I was there and I don’t know – but how did it happen? [Read more…]

THE PAMPLONA POST: Bulls Before Breakfast

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Bulls Before Breakfast cover

It’s not often we recommend a book other than the e-Guide Fiesta: How To Survive The Bulls Of Pamplona, but our friend Peter Milligan’s book Bulls Before Breakfast is proving to be a cracking read – witty, well-researched and well-written. Read on here by clicking here…

2015 Edition of Fiesta: How To Survive The Bulls Of Pamplona out now at 1/3 price for 1 week only…

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The updated 2015 Edition of Fiesta: How To Survive The Bulls Of Pamplona is out today as an eBook on Amazon at one third the usual price for 1 week only!

For Amazon (US), $4.99, click here.
For Amazon UK, £3, click here.
For Amazon Australia – $6.50 – click here.
For Amazon Canada – $6 – click here.
And similarly for Spain, France, Germany, Netherlands, Mexico, Brazil, Italy, China, Japan, India

This is the only official guide in the English language – the foreword from the Mayor of Pamplona is reprinted below – and also the best, featuring chapters from the most experienced American bull-runner in history, Joe Distler, John Hemingway, Ernest Hemingway’s grandson, ‘Buffalo’ Bill Hillmann who was famously gored last year, Beatrice Welles, Orson Welles’ daughter, the greatest Spanish and Basque runners – Julen Madina, Miguel Ángel Eguiluz, Jokin Zuasti and Joschu Lopez – and hundreds of photographs from EPA veteran photographer Jim Hollander’s half century in Pamplona. The book is edited and co-authored by Alexander Fiske-Harrison, a former bullfighter, bull-survival expert (as featured on ‘Bear Grylls: Extreme Survival)’, award-winning journalist for The Times and GQ, the BBC and Discovery channel and author of Sports Book Of The Year Finalist Into The Arena: The World Of The Spanish Bullfight.

 

Government of Pamplona

The Encierro – the ‘bull-run’ – is rooted deep in the history of Pamplona, where the bulls have, since medieval times, been driven for the evening bullfight from outside the city’s walls to its centre. Over the centuries, the Encierro has grown until it has become a legendary race, combining the weight of a tradition amassed over decades and the universal reach of an international event in the 21st century.

1776 gave us the introduction of fencing on the route of the Encierro; in 1856 the bulls ran for the first time on calle Estafeta; in 1922 the layout we have today was finally settled; in 1974 the start of the race was changed to 8 o’clock in the morning; in 1982 they began live television broadcasts, and this year the Encierro Ordinance has been approved, which regulates the conditions under which the run occurs and establishes appropriate mechanisms to punish (in ways which are minor, serious and very serious) behaviours that are not allowed.

During this time, the Encierro has been built on the work of thousands of people and with the scrupulous respect for a thing as attractive as it is dangerous. Because, as is well recognised in the title of this book, “How to Survive the bulls of Pamplona,” the story of the Encierro is also a hard story, alternating joys and victorious moments with black days in our old festival calendar. In fact, since the San Fermín festival last year, one of the fence posts located in the plaza Consistorial serves as a tribute to the 15 people who have lost their lives on the run, with a caption that reads “To the fallen of the Encierro.”

With all its sharp edges, its beauty, its danger and its difficulties, the Encierro is now a spectacular space, with close to 3,500 runners risking their lives every morning, backed up by first-class support along the entire route and with more than 440 journalists accredited to send their updates to countries in all continents.

However, beyond the importance of the Encierro, the appeal of the fiestas of San Fermín are not just in the legendary run. We have eight and a half days full of joy and fun, and with a festive array composed of more than 400 events, most notably the Chupinazo, Procession and dances of the Giants and Big Heads, that underpin the excellent environment that lives on the streets of Pamplona and serves to renew year after year, the greatness of an long-awaited and heartfelt holiday.

As Mayor of Pamplona it is a great joy to participate in a book like this, especially one aimed at the English-speaking community, because of its commitment to approaching the San Fermín liturgy with respect for the traditions of Pamplona as its roadmap, and valuable testimonies from people who have, over decades, learned how participate in the Encierro with aplomb.

In this sense, I want to take the opportunity afforded to me in this foreword to congratulate Alexander Fiske-Harrison for this story, and all those who took part in this project. I am sure that this work will become a great reference for all lovers of the Encierro beyond our borders, and serve as a source of information for people who want to find out the details that have defined, for centuries, the most famous bull-run in the world.

And finally, a tip. If you have the opportunity to visit, do not hesitate. Pamplona awaits you with open arms and with only two conditions: the desire to have a good time and respect for the city and its traditions.

¡Viva San Fermín!

Don Enrique Maya

Mayor of Pamplona

 

With thanks to Doña Yolanda Barcina, President of the Government of Navarre, for her assistance.

Govenment of Navarra

And to His Excellency, Federico Trillo-Figueroa Martínez-Conde, Ambassador from the Kingdom of Spain to the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and El Señor Fidel López Álvarez, Minister-Counsellor for Cultural Affairs.

Government of Spain

Announcement

I am both  very proud and very happy to announce my engagement to Miss Sarah Pozner in The Times today.

Alexander Fiske-Harrison

 

Announcement

¡HOLA! Spain

Hola cover This week’s edition of ¡Hola! magazine (13 May 2015) Spanish parent of Hello! magazine (which runs throughout Latin America as well to a readership of twenty million), opens with myself and my fiancée, Sarah, in a long feature with the headline of “Alexander Fiske-Harrison, the English ‘gentleman’ who one day became an expert on bullfighting” (pp.4-12.) Although I see we failed to make the cover courtesy of the birth of Princess Charlotte of Cambridge.

I enclose the text of my interview in the original English below. Interview, introductory preamble and captions are by Mamen Sánchez, director of ¡Hola! (and granddaughter of its founder.)

With thanks to the Hotel Alfonso XIII in Seville and my family tailors, Gieves & Hawkes, No.1 Savile Row, for my suit (the navy single-breasted and sole item of my own clothing in the shoot) and Ralph Lauren for providing Sarah and I with clothes in the Feria de Abril in Seville this year.

Alexander Fiske-Harrison

(All media enquiries to lucy@mephistoproductions.co.uk)

Cover

Descended from one of the most ancient and aristocratic families of the United Kingdom, ancestored by King Edward III

ALEXANDER FISKE-HARRISON

The English Gentleman who one day became an expert of bullfighting

We open the gates of his historic ancestral home Otley Hall, built in the 16th Century, alongside his girlfriend, the beautiful lawyer Sarah Pozner
Hola page 5 detail(Photo: Alexander Fiske-Harrison. We open the gates of the familial home, a historic building of the 16th Century, the manorial estate of Otley Hall, in the county of Suffolk. The Fiske-Harrisons are descended from Margaret Plantagenet, daughter of the Duke of Clarence. On the right he receives us together with the girlfriend, the beautiful Sarah Pozner)

INTERVIEW:

Alexander Fiske-Harrison comes from one of the oldest and most illustrious families in England. The Fiske-Harrisons are the descendants of Margaret Plantagenet, daughter of the Duke of Clarence, brother of Edward IV and Richard III, Kings of England.

Me at Otley Hall, in front of a painting of my ancestor Robert Gosnold III, by Andrea Savini, suit by Gieves & Hawkes of Savile Row

Alexander Fiske-Harrison (photo by Andrea Savini, suit by Gieves & Hawkes)

Educated at Eton, he holds Masters in Arts and Sciences thanks to his studies in Philosophy and Biology at the Universities of Oxford and London. Son of a prosperous investment banker in ‘The City’, Alexander can presume to be the genuine “gentleman”. Elegant, humanist, lover of nature and man of letters, he is the author of numerous books and essays, a playwright and a regular contributor to newspapers and magazines including The Times, Financial Times and The Spectator.

Following in the footsteps of Ernest Hemingway, there awakened in him an interest in bullfighting which brought him to Spain, first as a researcher and later as an authentic lover of the ‘fiesta de los toros’. From the hand of great Maestros such as Juan José Padilla, Eduardo Dávila Miura and Cayetano Rivera Ordóñez and through his friendship with Adolfo Suárez Illana [son of Spain’s first democratic president, the Duke of Suárez], who first introduced him to the world of bullfighting, Alexander has become a valiant bullfighter. He killed a bull of Saltillo and participated in various festivals, he has run for six years in the bull-runs of Pamplona and has written one of the most referenced books on the world of bullfighting: Into The Arena.

Hola page 6-7 detail

“The Fiskes arrived to this part of England as Vikings, at the Battle of Maldon, in 991A.D.”

A complete discovery, Alexander, greets us with his fascinating girlfriend, Sarah – Senior Legal Advisor to BUPA Global and captain of the polo team “Legal Beagles” -, in Otley Hall, a historic Tudor Manor in the county of Suffolk. This building, dating from the 16th Century, connects the Fiske-Harrison family and the Kings of England, and a great-granddaughter of Margaret Plantagenet here contracted marriage with the then Lord of the Manor of Otley Hall, John Gosnold.

[Read more…]

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