three days in nayland } cobblers cottage

Eve relaxes. At night, this is our position of choice.

This is my fourth visit to one of my beloved Grove Cottages. This time: Cobblers Cottage. My companions are my sister-in-law Jana, her baby bump (my nephew) and, of course, Eve. The cottage is breath-taking and as always exceeds my expectations. I still can’t believe how generous people are with sharing these lovely ‘homes’. 

{day one: monday, february 8}

At South Ken Station we wait for the District Line to take us to Liverpool Street Station.

We do a selfie on the train.

We pass the ArcelorMittal Orbit. It’s hideous. I never liked it. But I’m excited to see it.

We arrive at the cottage and see that the lights are on inside. The door is unlocked so we walk in. It feels like a fairy tale.

Door knocker. Of course.

As soon as you walk in it’s the kitchen. But all you have to do is look to your right and you see this. Jana runs upstairs to explore while I chat with cottage owner Kevin.

I love that there is a minimal number of doors in this cottage, just like Rose Cottage. Here, a velvety curtain serves as a barrier between the living room and the staircase.

Tiny, little conservatory overlooks the private garden, but we can’t get the door open.

Eve surveys the now-expected complimentary victuals basket. Oh we did have fun with that bread and butter. Not to mention the yummy tomatoes. I love being with Jana. She loves her tummy as much as I love mine.

Kevin’s partner and co-owner Sara’s love for fabrics is evident in all corners, which suits my things quite well.

See? Here, my laptop case mixes wonderfully with the ottoman and rug. And of course my Hope House Press journal.

The living room peeps out into the kitchen.

I like to explore every little nook. When I was little (I may have relayed this story before), my grandma had a painting hanging over the living room door. It was similar to this one…English…idyllic…dreamy. I’d look at it and wonder if places like the ones in the painting existed for real. They do. And I’m there.

Eve finds her room under the stairs.

When you’re presented with a claw-foot bathtub, you take a bath.

She feigns sleep in the bedroom…

…and ends up falling asleep for real.

Later on at night, while Jana sleeps upstairs and the wind blows ferociously outside, I sit down to paint.

I paint in the little conservatory. The wind is howling and it’s raining outside.

I need to be able to use my phone while it’s connected to the radio so I figure it out.

I’m on the phone with a friend.

The wind knocks leaves and twigs against the window. I bolt out of my seat and leave things as they are. I go to bed.

{day two: tuesday, february 9}

It takes us a moment or two to decide the route. Also, as you see here, I have brought my Traveling Tap with me. We ultimately decide it’s best to keep her home. Really, it was fifteen minutes of back-and-forthing before we set off to Stoke.

On this day we decide to explore the area and walk to Stoke. It’s cold and ends up raining down on us but the walk is brisk and the air is fresh.

Forget Me Not. This shop is just a few meters away from Cobblers.

Apt.

On our way to Stoke it’s so wet and muddy. If it weren’t so cold and the cottage were nearby, I’d definitely be playing in this mud.

Jana and a tree.

Milk in bottles. Sigh.

We see the St. Mary steeple and know we’re close. We also spot a couple of cows, which in this picture appear as two…spots.

We arrive in Stoke and it looks deserted. We head to church.

The babtismal font.

Gothic.

A gentle reminder: this is where I’d like to be buried. Or somewhere similar to it.

This cottage gives me shivers of the good kind.

A charming little bookshop before we head to the Crown for tea and then lunch.

We enter the Crown and it’s too early for lunch so we order tea and pastries (which is not on the menu but they are nice enough to ask the chef to make some). Sometimes I feel like having a pregnant woman around opens doors I’d never dare touch otherwise.

Jana’s cauliflower.

My trout. This is so yummy I make sounds while eating it. I’m not kidding, ask Jana.

And gone. I am too embarrassed to eat the garnish.

Dessert. Jana’s face says it all.

The view out on the terrace.

Just as we’re about to leave, the sun comes out. We’d like to think it’s for us.

On our way back to Nayland we are greeted by a deceptive sun. There’s no refuge from the bitter cold and my stomach is sore. We still manage to enjoy the walk.

You’d look at this and think it’s somewhat warm but it’s not. It’s absolutely frigid.

Her majesty.

What a gorgeous day.

We take a devious selfie.

Jana and the Stour.

We’re running down that hill.

Back at the cottage I soothe my stomach with tea and light the fire. I immediately fall asleep in front of it, right there on the floor, no introductions. Half an hour later a trail of spittle from my tired mouth wakes me from my slumber.

Before the big sleep.

I wake up and it’s dark outside. So we watch the Bachelor on Jana’s phone. I’m an old fan. She’s a new recruit.

Later that night the fire is still burning. This is the toastiest cottage of the four I’ve visited.

I don’t move much from my comfy couch this night.

I end up sleeping here.

{day three: wednesday, february 10}

On the third day I wake up bright and early, capturing more of this gem’s beauty.

Jana has her breakfast. We finally get the door to the garden open. It turns out it’s not so difficult, just needs a good tug.

It’s still chilly but at least the sun is out. Eve enjoys the cottage’s garden. She doesn’t care that she’s cold and wet.

She still manages to keep me warm.

The sun, the sun.

Savoring my last morning at Cobblers.

Jana enjoys tea while Eve does the gardening.

We bring her back inside.

One last recline.

She is folded and ready to go back to London.

Eve takes a bath.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

One last goodbye before we leave…

A final check and farewell before we’re off.

The view outside our bedroom window.

I find an old photo of me and Jana.

Goodbye room.

Another mirror selfie. I can’t help myself.

Time to go.