It was just like Bridget Jones’s English country house hotels. There was a drawing room, and a sweeping wooden staircase. I expected Colonal Mustard to be in the dining room, hiding the revolver.
There’s some stables out the back, where several Melbourne Cup winners have been bred. And isn’t it all so green? That island is lush at the moment.
Our room was very comfortable. A little chintzy for my taste but hey, we weren’t paying. The food at the hotel was magnificent. And there was just so much of it. A three course dinner on Friday night, and then a full cooked breakfast the following morning in the dining room, with all the fruit compotes and pastries etc laid out on the side dresser…just as (I imagine!) the butler would do in the English country homes.
We did manage to leave room to squeeze in a bowl of these when we visited The Christmas Hill Raspberry Farm Cafe later in the day. Fresh raspberries and Ashgrove cream. Delicious.