The Dairy

The dairy stopped being a dairy in the sixties. What it kept was the thing that made it useful in the first place: thick stone walls, a concrete floor, and a north wall that was mostly opening, because the milk had to come in and out and the air had to move.

We put glass in the opening and left almost everything else where it was. It is one room. The bed faces the window, the bath is behind a half-wall, and the wood heater is close enough to the bed that you can put another log on without fully committing to being awake.

There is no television. This is not a statement about screens — the signal here is bad enough that installing one would have been unkind. There is a shelf of books that previous guests have left and mostly not taken back.

What it is good for

Two people, two or three nights, no plans. It is the cottage people book when they want the week to be over. It is not the one to book if you want to cook a long dinner: the kitchen is a bench, an induction plate and a good knife, and it is honestly better suited to breakfast than anything else.

The terrace faces east, which means the sun arrives early and directly. In summer that is a reason to get up. In winter it is the warmest place on the estate by nine in the morning.