This cosy homestead offers all the simple pleasures for a winter escape: great scenery, log burners, no wifi and a pile of paperbacks
The lane gets steeper and narrower, the roar of the river louder. We turn to cross the old stone bridge and, two farm gates later, are bouncing up through a forest of gnarly oak and moss-swaddled boulders to emerge on a grassy belvedere by the old farm. The last rays of sun are touching the distant peaks of Cadair Idris. There is not another dwelling in sight … unless that speck on the far hillside might be a house?
Inside there is a slate floor polished by two centuries of Welsh feet. In the rooms beyond we find a pair of log-burners, two cast-iron baths and several well-worn rugs and sofas. Best of all, there’s a kitchen humming with warmth from an Aga, a guitar and many piles of books. Later, I stand outside on the sheep-cropped lawn, watching the millstream cascade into a pool and think: “I’m getting under that … probably, at some point.” And: “This is perfect.”
