tracy mansion

Luxembourg is rather rich. Indeed, according to the IMF and World Bank, it is the richest country in the world (nominal GDP per capita, 2014/5 figures).

The richness is usually discrete. Rarely do you see obvious displays of wealth. The Royal Family have to, they represent the state. The banks are discrete: their architecture suggests a little better and a little bigger. You do not get the kind of gross in–your–face insecurity found in many elsewheres.

There are exceptions. Normally, I’d ignore them: there’s a link between gawping and celebrity’s inane culture. But the mansion in the photo is special. It stands out, not just by dint of height: I find it an almost perfect expression of early ‘60s optimism.

Despite this mansion’s glaringly public visage, the owners are very private. All I’ve discovered is they’re Brit, called Tracy, & mostly live on a tropical island.

Mind you, I heard bizarre rumours. Admittedly, I didn’t dig; all I wanted was info for the snap, & whom to ask permission to snap a little closer. But I kept hearing tales of pink Rollers and rockets in the night—not bang sparkle rockets as in fireworks, but bird–scare thunder rockets as in NASA. The rumours repeated despite being obviously bonkers. I even found myself looking for scorch marks!

Anyway, enough is enough. I don’t want to visit. I wouldn’t live there. It’s too high. But the mansion’s fab!