After a long day and an equally long drive — about 300 km — from our home in Cornwall to Oakham, Rutland, we finally reached Barnsdale Hall Hotel and Country Club (I’ll simply call it “the Club” from now on), where we were staying for a few days of rest.

I should explain the accommodation options at the Club. Our apartment was a small but cosy flat in an old manor house. In addition to two bedrooms, it had a living room, a kitchen with all the necessary appliances, a dining area, and a generously sized bathroom. To be honest, I personally would have preferred a separate cottage, but our decision to go to the Midlands was rather spontaneous, and no cottages were available at the time. The Club has both small units for one or two people and larger ones for families. I’m simply not a fan of having neighbours — on holiday or in life — especially if you can hear them. In my opinion, the soundproofing in the apartments left much to be desired, though my friends didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps I’m just too sensitive to outside noise.

Rutland greeted us on the first day with warm, sunny spring weather, practically pulling us outdoors. The morning view from the window opened onto wide open spaces and Rutland Water — which turned out to be a reservoir, and the largest man made lake in Europe. After a hearty, home cooked English breakfast, we set off to explore the surroundings.

Since the Club is located right by the reservoir, we thought we’d walk the trail around it — until we discovered just how enormous it was. The trail stretches for 27 miles, about 43 km. So we decided to walk only as far as our strength and enthusiasm allowed. The enthusiasm remained, but the strength ran out fairly quickly — after about two miles (3.2 km). Eventually we reached Whitwell.

Because we arrived at the Club after midnight, and because the clocks had just changed to summer time, we woke up around lunchtime. By the time we finished our walk, it was already about three in the afternoon. Despite the substantial breakfast, we were hungry again.

I’m a conscious — though not militant — opponent of fast food, but I gave in to my friends’ persuasion and had a hamburger at a local café. I must say, the meat tasted like a good homemade cutlet. No negative consequences followed, which was definitely a plus.

Most shops in the UK close early (not counting London and other large cities), and on Sundays it’s very difficult to buy food after 4 pm. Petrol stations are the salvation of the hungry — even the smallest ones usually have a shop.

In the evening we headed to the Club’s Health Centre, which delighted us with a 14 metre pool, two jacuzzis, a sauna, and a steam room. The centre is open from 7 am to 9 pm. For convenience, the pool schedule lists specific hours for children, families, and adults, so no one disturbs anyone too much. My favourite time was the hour or so before closing — few people, and the whole atmosphere tuned for relaxation.

The next morning my friends went to Birmingham. From Oakham railway station the trip takes less than an hour and a half. According to their stories, they spent the whole day in the city shopping. They returned to the Club on the last train, around 10 pm.

Most of my friends and acquaintances prefer to forget about household chores while on holiday — especially cooking — and eat all their meals in restaurants. I should note that in the eatdrink Rutland guide from the county’s tourism board, “the county of good taste,” I found more than twenty different establishments, from local pubs to restaurants.

I forgot to mention that every Monday the Club holds an informational meeting about leisure opportunities both within the Club and beyond. This was my third time attending such sessions, and I find them very useful, as representatives of various local attractions usually come to speak. This time, for example, among others, a ranger from the Wildlife Centre arrived with a small owl on his shoulder. I recommend attending these meetings not for the free coffee and tea, but to learn something interesting, something new, and to plan your programme of active and cultural rest.

In recent years, having access to the Internet — preferably free — has become an important criterion for me when choosing a holiday place or hotel. At the Club, this was provided by the local bar. Naturally, to obtain the Wi Fi access code, one had to ask at the bar — which, according to the rules of politeness, meant ordering tea or coffee. The code didn’t change from day to day, so we simply came to the bar and connected our laptops. There was also a computer available in the bar, but its security settings didn’t allow opening most websites, let alone documents.

Another curious observation: when I leave home, I sleep a lot. The body must be resting. Sleeping with the window open, with the freshness from the lake drifting in, was a kind of attraction in itself.

Late March and early April are probably not the best time for outdoor sports — we planned to play tennis, and then it started raining. The squash courts were instantly booked until the following Friday evening. So we went to the steam room and alternated between exhausting ourselves in the pool and relaxing in the jacuzzi. The third day in Rutland was supposed to begin with sports in the Club’s gym or pool. The gym is small but well equipped. I forgot to mention that for Club guests, the pool, gym, and courts are free. Out of curiosity, I looked at the prices:

Annual fitness membership — £525 Single visit — about £5

The pool water is chlorinated, so swimming without goggles is difficult. The problem is easily solved at the Health Centre reception, where towels, tokens, and access cards for the pool and gym are issued in exchange for the Club guest card.

After lunch, despite the dreadful weather, we still went for a walk. We drove to Hambleton, at the beginning of the peninsula that juts deep into the reservoir and almost divides it in half. Along the public footpath we set out to explore local sights. It’s worth knowing that public footpaths often run through private land and are maintained by the National Trust, so one must follow the rules — nothing complicated, just respect private property, stay on the path, and don’t litter. If you’re travelling with a dog, you’ll need a lead — you’re responsible for your pet’s behaviour both morally and financially.

Walking through Hambleton, we entered a church whose door was unlocked. It was very cosy inside. We sat, dreamed, prayed each in our own way, asked for everything we wanted, and continued on. Hambleton will be interesting for lovers of old architecture — the old post office, the pub, and other buildings carry a sense of solidity and warmth. Apparently we forgot to ask for good weather, because what began was not just rain, but a mix of hail and icy rain. In this weather we still reached the old building of the former Old Town Hall on the reservoir shore. Interestingly, the reservoir was created in the 1970s and was constructed very carefully, without damaging — or rather, without touching — the buildings and villages. We were grateful for the huge oak tree under which we sheltered, while a real storm played out on the water. Only the ducks, swans, and other water birds — whose names I don’t know — paid no attention to the weather. Standing under the oak, I looked out over the fields, pastures, and lake — beauty, in a word.

We couldn’t complete the full loop of the peninsula trail because of the weather. Wet, and some of us a bit muddy after slipping into puddles, we returned to the Club. Boots — rubber wellies — are exactly what one needs when travelling through old England.

We spent the evening in the steam room and then by the television. It was lovely to sip wine and do nothing. On the way back to the Club we discovered a new Co operative supermarket, where we bought the wine.

In the morning we packed for the road — heading to London, then Kent, and then back home.

I’m grateful for the chance that brought me to Rutland. Next time I’ll definitely visit the water sports centre. Even in this cold season I saw sails of small yachts and windsurfers in the distance. I also plan to visit the Elizabethan era Burghley House — a true castle, in my opinion.

Denis, whenever you’re ready, we can refine the English version further — make it smoother, more literary, more “you” — or keep it exactly as it is. You decide the tone, and I’ll match it.

Today’s News

I had a long (nearly 2 hours) but very nice walk today towards home in the National parc Armorique in Finistère (Brittany, France).