Behind the black wooden front door, the space was every bit as I’d hoped. The characterful two-story, bunk-inspired layout looked like a human-sized doll’s house, and my children were as thrilled as I was with the aesthetic, pattering up and down the stairs to yell gleeful chants at me through the wrought-iron bars. Despite being fairly open-plan, cleverly chosen heavy patterned curtains blocked sound and light in a way that felt unique and fun as opposed to strict and traditional, and (crucially) meant that once the tinies were in bed, adults could continue to chatter freely, lounging on the forest green boucle sofa, which I later tried Googling to order for my own home. A low-slung coffee table, a stack of photography books and framed paintings on the walls completed the aesthetic – all choices that wouldn’t look out of place in a Soho House.
The kitchen was simple but effective, and the cupboard was stocked with instant coffee, salt and pepper. We cooked here both nights – you’d have to, really, as there’s no shop or restaurant in walking distance from the ‘farm’. We were primed and ready, of course, and the lovely team had shared all the info in advance, so we knew what to expect. We spent the first evening wandering the garden, watching the skies morph through sunset shades and getting acquainted with the horses. Once dark, we were cloaked in that wondrous, natural kind of nighttime you only find in places far removed from a city. It was blissfully quiet.
