I was away last week, on holiday with DH and bear. I don't like to let people know that the house will be empty, so I didn't warn that I'd be away and not posting. But here's a quick overview and I'll start catching up with friendly blogs and get back into the rhythm in no time.
We didn't go far, it was just in the Yorkshire Dales, only around an hour's drive, but nicely in the country, quiet, and a chance for a little bit of calm together. It was a self catering AirBnB cottage, and it seemed perfect. I mean, it had a woodburning stove and a reading/knitting nook.
And you had to cross a bridge to get to the front door.
I was deeply grateful for the woodburning stove, as the boiler stopped working and we didn't have hot water or heating apart from that for the first few days. It can't be blamed on the host, or even on the repair man. I listened to him on one of the mornings when he turned up with a different part and worked with the equally baffled helpline operator to get things going.
Bear enjoyed a chance to learn to light fires, but after DH took over, the stove had two levels - out or blast furnace. The host was wonderfully generous with firewood and kindling, and we took shameless advantage. I shivered or scorched, but I did enjoy watching the fire and it was generally relaxing.
Catering was a tiny problem. If we needed to, we could have driven into a local town for food, but I'd organised a Tesco delivery for the start of the stay and there were seventeen substitutions. Most of them made more or less sense, but it was tricky trying to recreate a rough meal plan. There was a (very small) village shop, and we were never going to starve, but seventeen substitutions! I'd never seen anything like that ever!
The kitchen was equipped. The trouble with self catering kitchens is that they're not like your kitchen at home. If I'm going to heat a can of soup at home, I know which jug is good in the microwave, which bowls are a good fit, and I have a favourite spoon. A strange kitchen slows you down by about half a step, not to mention using a strange cooker.
Our cooker is accidentally quite good and expensive. We got an insane deal on an electric cooker with an induction hob which, after much patient service, burst into flames. The insurance couldn't replace with the equivalent because it was no longer sold so we got an awesome upgrade. The AirBnB's cooker wasn't the same. It was an electric cooker with an induction hob, but the oven ran enthusiastically hot and the hob limped along very slowly. It was one of those where it was a good cooker if you were used to it.
The house was nicely decorated, and it was clean, but it wasn't clean clean. Still, it made me feel a little better about my own housewifery skills or lack thereof, so I'm not calling that a fail. And they had a bathroom smaller than mine!
The picture, past the reading room, is of the main house bathroom. It's about square with a walk in shower that runs off the boiler so wasn't available at the start. It's tiny. I think that if I was going to go to the trouble of installing a bathroom, I'd use the whole room and go all out, but who knows? That may have been an important study at one time. The bedrooms were lovely.
And on the way home, the satnav decided to shred our nerves by taking an unexpected shortcut over the moors on single track roads. DH was driving, and he's a much better and more experienced driver than me, but I'm more comfortable with those sorts of roads and I was so glad that I wasn't in the hot seat. It was all high stone walls and blind corners, and we had no idea what was going on.
I could probably find more to grumble about but the house was obviously a gothic horror story waiting to happen, and while I almost finished the back of a chunky sweater, I let my mind drift. There were dozens of doors that were not only in odd places, but locked and bolted. This one in my room apparently leads to the house next door.
There was a dark painting on the landing, which ought to have had secrets woven into its story.
And there was a memorial stone in the small garden.
I took this pic at the last minute, as whenever I went out there, I forgot my phone. But how can you resist a cottage with a memorial stone in the garden?
DH wants to go back. Bear is uncommitted. I'm looking at perhaps staying home.
Hugs and good health to all.










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