We arrived in Glastonbury some five hours after we had left my home… for a hundred and twenty mile journey through an ancient landscape that isn’t bad going. It could have taken much longer…

There is a sign that says Glastonbury 9 miles as you turn a corner and get the first view of the Tor, misty, otherworldly in the distance. We stopped there too, of course, feeling that pull that is both indescribable and inexplicable. On the face of it there is no sense to it, yet there is something about Glastonbury. There are towns doubtless as pretty, landscapes just as beautiful, histories just as rich and varied… yet nowhere feels quite like this place. And this time we were here for three days.

A fortuitous raffle ticket had given us two nights’ accommodation and what a glorious place to stay. Set back in a peaceful oasis just off the main streets our cottage with its courtyard is very evidently a labour of love for its owner. The place is beautiful. Bill met us and let us in.

I want to live there. Or at least go back. Please.

Howe’s is a simple, small cottage full of mod cons and antiques. Downstairs the ceiling is so low even I feel it, so low my companion insisted I could be used as a feather duster for any cobwebs… a fireplace stacked ready for use almost made us wish it was colder. Upstairs is s shower to die for… how come all the showers in Glastonbury seem so fabulous?… and a beautiful mahogany bed whose headboard reaches the ceiling.

It is one of a row of cottages the owner has lovingly restored, all sharing a courtyard festooned with plants and flowers and an eclectic collection of statuary, domestic objects and odd things. A fountain is the centrepiece, covered and peaceful in the dusk. The camellias were in full bloom, a perfect foil for the detailed herringbone pattern of the old bricks. A barbecue, a hearth, an outdoor kitchen… even a hot tub. Heaven. And if that wasn’t enough, it is less than a minute’s walk to the fish shop, the High Street and the pubs.

Once we were settled in and had stocked the fridge with necessities we went off for a wander around the town, starting, of course, at the George and Pilgrim and ending at the King Arthur… well, it is thirsty work all this exploring…. And they have cider…. It is Somerset after all!

The evening passed tranquilly working, getting ready for the talk on Thursday, and ended sitting under the stars in the quiet courtyard with a glass of wine.

As if it wasn’t enough we later found that the cottage was a place of love and memory for a dear friend of ours, and for me, that made it even more beautiful.

Thank you Bill!

Marchants Buildings, the cottages where we stayed, can be viewed and booked here.