“Getting to Glazebrook House was a restorative victory…literally raising the spirits.”
Sometimes we choose hotels for their location. Sometimes the hotel IS the location. It’s not about how many stars, it’s about star quality. It can be homespun or glamourpad, but a hotel with an attention to interior décor ‘n’ detail is a delight. Googling ‘boutique and unique’ the first thing I do is hit the photo gallery, then the price, then the ‘deals’, then maybe I sell a kidney. Sometimes you just want special.
Glazebrook House is special, but more than that it is fun! Designed by Timothy Oulton with flamboyant largesse. The ambience is Alice In Wonderland-esque; it will make you Cheshire Cat grin. Sublime and ridiculous. The house is a grand dame with a diamond décolletage and dirty laugh. Classy and tongue-in-cheeky.
Upon arrival, it is of course a cliche to force your best friend to pose his vintage Porsche in front of a conveniently colour co-ordinated entrance. Even when he says it’s really embarrassing and the first G&T is on me as payback. For the record, my Smart car is also black and white, but frankly doesn’t rock the same panache. So really this is just swanky-wanky showing off. I’m a working class girl that still gets giggly that my mate has earned his way to owning a car like this. I’m proud of him. I’m never apologising for it. I’ll get the G&T buddy, now, reverse a bit to the left and let’s pretend people aren’t watching us be prats.
Stepping in to the foyer we were greeted with genuine warmth. From Chloe on reception, to the owner Peter serving drinks later in the bar (not much later, we arrived thirsty), the owners and staff of Glazebrook take pride in their venture with a bon vivant energy. Happily chatting about the history of the building and their hopes for the venue. It’s a relaxed, down to earth atmosphere. And they were completely unfazed by me buzzing about taking photos for Instagram Stories whilst my mate did the boring stuff booking in to our rooms.
My room. What. A. Room. You had me at ‘Hello…hanging chandelier’ literally from a rope noose by my bedside.
I’m not the type to put anything on a pedestal, I like real, so here’s the only gripe of the review…and it’s a small one. Literally. The vintage teacups for making my breakfast brew. Tiny, tiny, tiny. Super pretty, but not supersized, which didn’t help me recover from our night in the bar. Just saying.
OK, technically it was most of the afternoon in the bar, drinks at dinner and then a cocktail nightcap.
I used the singular noun there, didn’t I? That might be deceptive. Cocktails. Plural and delicious. Highly recommend. Now you know why I needed bucket-sized cups of breakfast tea. However, a mention should be given to the cuisine in general – not just the liquid form of lunch. The food was amazing – I ate lots of it to be sure.
For me, this hotel visit was a turning point in travel. And that’s why the price tag was worth it. This isn’t a hotel break that I can afford without it being a special occasion. I wanted to go big, go glam, go hallelujah for being out of the house. You can’t put a price on your health, but sometimes you can bung some cash at celebrating when you want to feel good; and coming here WAS good for me. Whilst I love my home, to be housebound for more months than I care to mention in 2018 was a bitter blow and the drive to Devon was a milestone achievement. Getting to Glazebrook House was a restorative victory; literally raising the spirits (of the metaphysical and alcoholic kinds). So let’s drink to that. So I make no apology for the photo below – my single finger salute to a disease that continues to curveball me, but I get my own back in high heeled style.
Arthritis (or Arse-ritis as it deserves to be called because it is a pain in the proverbial) is a cruel disease, not least because it can trip you up (literally with my dodgy legs) when you least expect it. So for me, a short break marked a step in my fight back to some form of normality – a normality I prefer to come with cocktails obviously. At Easter I will be going abroad for the first time in two years. It’s just a short trip to Amsterdam, but from Devon to Europe to taking on the world. Sometimes, the trip is about the destination as was the case with Glazebrook, but sometimes that destination is about arriving somewhere inside yourself that says ‘I’m still here’ and that can be the longest journey of all.