All hands on deck at Westminster

In doing so he must answer some mundane but vital questions: what was the weather like? We know it turned on the Spanish, but the engravings don’t tell the whole story. Oakshett says he consulted a historical meteorologist for advice. Apparently, such people exist — and, by the sound of things, they take their jobs very seriously: at the committee convened to consider the details of the new paintings, it is said that cheeks were puffed and sharp words exchanged over the climactic conditions as the Spaniards floated up the sink.

When Oakshett’s paintings are finished, there will be a grand unveiling at the House. (In case you’re worrying, you’re not paying for these paintings; the £225,000 has been stumped up by an American philanthropist.) It won’t exactly be job done, but we’ll be a little closer to fulfilling Barry’s and Pugin’s vision of the Palace. It might seem a bit old and stuffy, especially when we’re completing Barry’s Trafalgar Square by adding all sorts of nonsense to the fourth plinth, but there’s something about it that appeals, not least because it is a task of painstaking detail and serious thought about a great episode in our history.

But first there are the politics of copying Burchett, who was copying Pine, who was copying the original tapestries. Oakshett has become an expert in the design and nature of Tudor warships and has spotted mistakes in Burchett’s work: Tudor pennons flying from the English ships ought to be green and white — Burchett forgot the green bits. Should Oakshett now be faithful to the model or to historical accuracy? Accuracy, in this case, prevails: Oakshett is putting the green back in. There are also diplomatic questions: should there be any Spanish faces filling the gaps that appear onboard the expanded ships? ‘No,’ says Oakshett (though he originally offered out of politeness). ‘I wanted to stay true to the spirit of the original propaganda.’