Last days of summer secluded in Suffolk
‘Restore and reconnect.’ This was the promise of The Lost Garden Retreat; the childish idealism of discovering a Wind in the Willows hideaway deep in the woods concealed from society gave me good shivers of much needed serenity. Lockdown life was starting to affect me in more ways than I care to admit. The pendulum of need for the unfiltered company of friends and family quickly crossing over to the scary want for complete solitude was spinning my mind into a frenzied fizz. Within a few minutes of being invited to the edges of East England I knew that I needed to lose myself in the quiet calm of a new Wi-Fi-free environment for a few days.
Coming from London the echoes of the drum roll of urban life slowly disappeared. Each new road we joined changed the landscape with a turn or two and suddenly we have arrived in Suffolk. The world opened up like a buttercup as fields of wheat appeared, tobacco coloured lanes spreading across the land as far as the eye can see. As the road trip rolled onward, squinting into the distance you notice the odd lonely farmhouse, but otherwise the green fields of nothingness approached. All those warmly welcomed butterflies of a much needed holiday break were seeping excitedly into my mind.
I felt smug and roulette winner lucky on the first step inside the cabin. Immediately I felt at home. Truly, sincerely at home. Not the generic hotel warmth you find across the heavily branded sites across the world, or the loneliness of a creepy crawly camp site, this felt different. This felt real. The handmade comforts that surrounded us sucked us into a new Robinson Crusoe lifestyle that we couldn’t help but enjoy to the fullest. Our safari tent (dubbed the cow shed due to the subtle tongue in cheek design) could easily house six barrel-shaped guests and the living room space had enough room to swing at least two cats at a time. Within, you find a lantern lit double bedroom where you’d blink twice and think you were in a soho farmhouse. Sitting proudly next door is a treehouse bedroom you climb into by a short ladder, perfect for two to snuggle, and next door to that is a bunk bedroom for sleepy kids or two naughty friends.
Ancient trees hang overhead creating a canopy of calm. They deliver a brimming basin of purity and kindness. There are four cabins that look onto a lake dating back to before Queen Victoria sat on the throne. Forestry and foliage stretch into the sky, their impossibly tall branches outstretched, reaching high up in utter joy celebrating where their Kingdom had been planted for centuries.
A much-loved magical willow trees stands proudly over the twinkling lake that homes all walks of life, from ducks to herons and deep diving fish. The water seems forever calm, quiet and still. The rare ripples are a beacon urging you to pause for a moment and enjoy all of life’s natural splendour. Witnessing the fish jump, swoosh and swirl takes you back to your youth; The days of pebble skimming, warm cider, ripped shirts and exploring. We are reliving a Famous Five novel, a dreamlike world destined for the greatest of adventures.
Knees deep in nature, fully immersed in the undergrowth of greenery, I finally find my footing. It doesn’t take long before I am back into a zen like being of my former self. On first arrival I was in utter stunned silence at the beauty of the location. Absolutely speechless. For hours we were lost and enchanted by the serene tone of the yellow and green fields and crisp air filling our lungs. We smiled as the first drinks are poured on our private decking. It is the first drop of a wistful welcome to the new realm of relaxation we have just entered.
The light seems different here, the stars seem closer, brighter, silvered and alluring. The night gently drifts into darkness and the fires start with little effort. Chunks of large (pre-cut, thank god) wood are thrown two by two wilfully into billowing flames to keep us toasted,
‘This is where we will roast of spuds tonight.’ I call out manfully into the wind.
Strong angles created by broad, oaky panelling on top of hardwood floors lead your eye into our well-stocked tent. All humbly hand built by the owners from the forests nearby. Perfectly rusted corrugated iron walls surround a fully equip and working kitchen with an island formed out of a block of sanded smooth wood Delia would be proud to use. A dishwasher, so grateful, as with all the breakfast, brunches, lunches and dinners there is plenty of dishes to spin. And thankfully there is no need to be elbows deep in suds and marigolds. It’s these little luxurious touches that make all the difference. You can feel the passion and heart that has gone into this project with every footstep, in every trinket, every fastened bolt and polished marble slab. It is all here to gawp at and enjoy.
A studded iron coffee table centred around a chesterfield chair born purely to suck you right into the perfect Sunday chills lazily. A puffy leather sofa so tall even my six foot six frame could fully stretch out. A long wooden dining table could seat ten but was set for six, well within our new lockdown rules. Retro Lamps with filaments that burst with light, flick toggle switches click on hanging lamps that from a particular angle look like the glowing udders of a pregnant cow. A gloriously deep bath sits centre stage that quietly whispers for your company, willing you to wade in for hours upon hours — a shower with room for two — brushed gold taps and thick towels a plenty nudge you to take your time and relax. We are wrapped in a rare luxury and hospitality that is forgotten by most operators. Finally, a wood fired Jacuzzi that chokes out smoke and boils the water to a bubbling frenzy. Burnt toes and champagne fuelled prose is our next destination.
On our first morning a gentle walk takes us beyond the beaten path. We lose ourselves in conversation to find we are far down the right hill headed in the wrong direction. A few carefully chosen fences are leap and by accident we discover an enchanting lake that is so beautiful it can’t be just Gods hands crafting these carefully cut edges. Or can it? We stop at a run of overgrown poppies with all the colours of a mixed bag of sweets dance in the gentle wind — and again we smile to ourselves.
Left alone, and truly alone, my mind starts to unravel the aches and pains of modern life. I catch myself finding odd jobs to do, collecting firewood, cleaning counter tops and planning the next meals menu. It seems my mind wants to busy itself with a needless to-do lists, ticking off and collecting chores to toil with later. It takes time for me to truly unwind, it takes more than a moment to remember the world I have just entered. A life away from the tablet, no longer a slave to WhatsApp, I forget the need to be lassoed into conversations and digital distractions. I am finally free. I think.
The air whipping through the trees and the tall reeds is a sound I had long forget existed. The birds are busy and squawk their early wake up calls of conversation — parroting sounds and calling to each other from one end of the retreat to the other. Almost as though they are giving live updates of my green fingered adventure. They know I am new to the scene. They see I am a little lost when firing up the jacuzzi, they watch me pause and roll another cigarette as I slowly lumber into the morning’s new rural routine.
The fully stocked kitchen begs for cooking up a feast. A treasure trove of ingredients was brought to the tent and I am proud of what we managed to stir up for each and every occasion. The smell of bacon from the other tents slowly creeps around the corner and down the long lawn to my cabin. It smells too good. Gluttonously good. But far too city living for my current mission objective. I have packs of porky rashers in my fridge but frying up a batch just doesn’t feel right today. Here I feel I should be healing, not trowelling meat into my gullet. This is a place to reconnect, repair and relax. The bacon sizzling up the way symbolising all that I have tried to escape. I want to hide from the smell, but I draw a deep breath of the salty goodness and it is all I need for now. But we are weak and we cook Rib-eye steaks with sweet potatoes and charred broccoli with chestnut mushrooms, paired with grilled halloumi skewers with asparagus and courgettes. And pan-fried salmon with an apple, tomato and avocado salad for the veggies. There were more creations, one included a form of tofu which I forget the name and was fantastic. All produced from the bbq, kitchen pan or wood fired oven using farm shop ingredients. For all my attempts, I finally broke on the last night and blazed a couple of bacon slabs to accompany my vegan bowl. Had to be done.
The last of summer’s beating sun delivers angles and shadows into the cabin that are beautiful and photogenic. In these times you feel you are living in a real-life glossy magazine, with every page turned a new moment that is humbling and priceless.
The glittering remains of newly made cobwebs and fluttering flies remind me that new life can grow in a moment. That one day you can be one person, a shadow of your former self, and in the next, you are in fist pumping celebration over the biggest catch of the day. At one lunch the setting was so calm I caught two horseflies brashly mating on the tabletop. Perverted flies doing the dirty for us all to watch. In the next moment, a solo daffy duck lands mischievously with black feathers and a bright orange beak, seconds later a young deer, Bambi’s British cousin, sauntered to the lake to quench her thirst. She is truly at home here, with no fear of the guests or their cameras. We are just visiting her backyard for the week. This has a bumbling feeling of Disney or a David Attenborough show broadcast live, and we have the best seats in the house.
Late at night, the ticker tapping rain drops on the roof reminds me of the forgotten warmth of home, that gentle smug feeling of being indoors when it’s raining hard. All tucked up in your duvet, a warm toasty roll hiding away from the world.
Earlier that evening, wrapping myself in a thick wool rug I feel prehistoric. I am in charge of the fire at night, I feel like early man with a few handy upgrades to help the flames keep charging. The heat of the dying fire and red-hot embers keeps us warm ’til dawn. Time starts to have no meaning, for the moments and events of the day are only marked by the food we cook.
The novelty doesn’t wear thin, in fact you yearn for more. If there was an apocalypse, this is where you would want to find your final sanctuary. Some would call this Glamping, others would consider these luxuries a far cry from the rural appeal of the lowly tent, I would call it living the dream.
Waking up here is like waking into a beautiful dream that you wish could never end. I caught myself smiling into nothingness, at my own fortune at staying somewhere so tranquil and chilled and where I could finally find my frequency and heal from within.
Hypnotised by the flames of this evenings fire I ponder to myself of the next chapter, and question what has happened to me this week to make me feel so good. Is there something in the water?
There are so many wonderful moments to take in at the Lost Garden, it is hard to put a finger on what makes it so special. The untouched woodlands, the open spaces, the light hitting the trees at dawn, the wood chopping toys, the board games, the complete solitude. The calming bliss comes at you like a warm hug from a long lost family member where you sincerely treasure every single moment of their company. The love that has gone into honing and building the ideal environment for you to rebuild and reconnect with nature proves that the efforts are not lost. As international travel has stalled for the time being, and staycations on our British Isles seem to be the only way forward for annual leave in the coming year, this much loved retreat hits every note perfectly. Your every need is catered for without being overbearing or too polished. You can make it up as you go alone, be a complete amateur at ‘roughing it’, and you will come out a dazzling example of your former self. The old new you reborn and who we are delighted to welcome home.
