My beloved and I are just back from spending our wedding anniversary in the picturesque very
Olde England village of Old Amersham just north-west of London. I think we all tend to rush off quite a distance when we want to get away, and thus we miss little gems closer to home. Amersham is only a 45-minute drive away from our Surrey home, so we arrived at our destination without any of the usual bickering
(me accusing Love of driving too fast, him insisting that he can't drive slower than the speed limit. Growing up in a country where 55 mph is considered dangerously fast has made me beyond jittery on the road).
The Crown Inn, Old Amersham
I had booked us in to
The Crown Inn hotel, which has rooms designed by the celebrated designer Ilse Crawford. I won't pretend that the attraction wasn't mainly Ilse, but I also found the thought of staying in an old Elizabethan inn fascinating. As a child I used to devour historical romantic fiction set in just such surroundings. The Crown was old yet stylish in a way that appeals to connaisseurs of the sludgier end of Farrow & Ball's colour chart. Charmingly creaky and sloping floors, dark wooden beams, a crackling fire in the reception area. Very atmospheric. But when we arrived at our room my heart sank. The receptionist had handed us the key and announced that it was 'a lovely room!' and I realised that he was trying to put a brave face on it - or perhaps it was an attempt at subliminal manipulation. The room, located at the end of a corridor and then at the bottom of a winding staircase, next to a fire escape, felt like a dungeon. Slightly below ground level, with a low ceiling and a window opening on to an outbuilding, this room was where I had chosen to take my husband as a treat for our special weekend. The muted grey colour scheme and the ascetic shaker furnishings felt less like a treat, more like a monastic retreat. A quick look in the even lower-ceilinged bathroom revealed beautiful fixtures, but a shower in which my husband would have to bend his head. I felt miserable. Somehow we always seem to get the worst room when we go away for our anniversary
(we were once stuffed into an ugly little staff room in the attick in a Canterbury inn - my husband had reserved a four-poster deluxe). I just wanted to get out of there and return after dark, but my beloved went to the reception and did what I can't bring myself to do: complain. He is a gent.
We were given another room, and suddenly we saw what Ilse Crawford's design was meant to look and feel like: Muted, rustic, pared down, yet comfortable. The emphasis was on a heavenly bed with big tweed cushions to lean against while reading
('Absent in Spring' by Mary Westmacott in my case), Bestlite wall lamps provided excellent reading light and simple wooden stools functioned as bedside tables. There was a plain wooden rocking chair in a corner with a sheepskin for warmth and softness, and a beautifully simple oak trestle table as a desk-cum-dressing table. There were ample supplies of teas and coffee - including ground coffee and filters for brewing plus loose leaf tea, though I'm afraid the four little milk cartridges didn't go very far. A little dressing area with a line of wooden shaker pegs around the walls led to a smart bathroom with a traditional and excellent shower in which I stayed far too long. It was exactly as I had hoped when I made the booking. My husband, however, was less taken with the Ilse Crawford aesthetic, finding it dull and lacking in warmth. And I agree that he had a point: There was no colour in the room, apart from a tomato-red vintage radio. It was a study in light grey, taupe and black, with oak accents. The theme continued in the public areas downstairs, which were stylish in the same rustic way, but lacked a little warmth and life. It needed an injection of colour and a green plant here and there to balance out the monastic feel.
The corner of our bedroom. Photo: Lifewithanordicsoul
The Bar. Photo: The Crown Inn
There was nothing monastic about our dinner though, which was excellent. My husband's duck pie was the stuff of dreams and the recipe is apparently the chef's closely guarded secret. We woke up to dazzling sunshine the next day but by the time we had finished breakfast it was raining heavily. Instead of going off for a hike like most of the other guests we took the easy option and visited
Hughenden. There, in the walled garden, I spotted another hotel in a similar palette of muted colours... a very spacious 'bug hotel' :)
Photo: Lifewithanordicsoul
