Stanton Bed & Breakfast

Stanton by night. As a city-dweller, one forgets just how bright the stars can be without city light and pollutant interference.

On a cool, crisp night, bundled up in a coat, with red wine and dog in tow, Mark and I often stroll up to the ‘Stanton Stones’ (sorry about the bad pun) in the paddock behind the garage block, and ponder the universe and our insignificance generally. (This is particularly helpful around tax time, job interviews, local council meetings.)

One day we will have a telescope mounted somewhere, but at the moment, it’s the naked eye solo.

But it’s not just the stars. The stillness and peace is like a thick lambs’ wool blanket (okay, from a black lamb then), and it’s easy to pretend oneself in another century or dimension.

All the more inviting then are the soft lights and open fires inside, which to a large extent perpetuate the illusion of a gentler, slower time.

We have striven to minimalise interference with that illusion, by furnishing not as a museum or hotel, but as a home with china, silver, crystal, linen, books, antiques which are used on a daily basis. During your stay here, it is after all, your home …

Living in an old house involves a lot of guess work as to the previous uses of rooms and areas.

The blue bedroom is 4 steps below the main second floor, and was originally a larger room, with two other rooms opening directly off it (now bathrooms). We suspect that this was a nursery or at least children’s dormitory, and I didn’t realise how much that had rubbed off on my subconscious until standing back after decorating the room.

The twin iron beds were found in New Norfolk and were from an old hospital, and the colour choices, combined with the skillion roof and small print curtains and cushions combine to provide a nursery feel. Again things seemed to fall into place, with a long neglected framed copy of Desiderata done by Mark’s sister, Angela, a talented calligraphist, echoing exactly the colours and pattern of the already chosen curtain fabric.

Further, a small tapestry with similar colouring was brought to Stanton by friends from Brisbane last year, with a small tag on the back of the work, identifying it as the work of Joe’s great-great-great-grandmother, that it had been worked in approximately 1850, and that Stanton was to be its new home.

More stories … a Victorian dressing table that came from an old house in Brisbane, another wardrobe from Narnia, and an interesting double bed, which originally drew me to it because the end looked like a witness box!

It’s previous owner had it for most of her long married life to a First World War hero, had removed its legs because it was too high for her, and then eventually sold it to remove to a nursing home. I would like to think that she would approve of its current home.

The cross stitch above the bed was worked by myself as a gift to my grandmother on her 70th birthday some 20 years ago. It looked over her for some 12 years, until at her death it was returned to me. Again, I like to think she would approve.More stories … a Victorian dressing table that came from an old house in Brisbane, another wardrobe from Narnia, and an interesting double bed, which originally drew me to it because the end looked like a witness box!

It’s previous owner had it for most of her long married life to a First World War hero, had removed its legs because it was too high for her, and then eventually sold it to remove to a nursing home. I would like to think that she would approve of its current home.

The cross stitch above the bed was worked by myself as a gift to my grandmother on her 70th birthday some 20 years ago. It looked over her for some 12 years, until at her death it was returned to me. Again, I like to think she would approve.

The bed started life as a double in England in the 1890s, emigrated to Toowoomba in Queensland, migrated south to Melbourne to be re-born as a queen in Aladdin Antiques, until we adopted it and brought it home to Stanton.

The dressing table was made in Edwardian times for the daughter of a governor of Tasmania, with more of that story yet to be discovered.

The wardrobe is of Tasmanian flame blackwood, and is certainly large enough that C.S. Lewis would have been inspired if he’d visited. Even the furniture has stories to tell!

Beware the low doorways throughout the house, and the narrow stairs for that matter. People in the early 19th century were shorter, and with smaller feet than their modern counterparts.

I toyed with putting a “Watch your Head” sign above every door, but that seemed repetitive and pointless. Have a care for my 6’4” builder, and 6’7” plumber, both of whom worked here for a considerable period, and whose heads bore the bumps to prove it!

“Roll back the carpets and let’s dance!” At least that’s what used to happen in this room.

Soon after we had completed the renovations/restoration, I invited the stalwart volunteers who staff the New Norfolk Visitor Information Centre for morning tea and a look around the house, so as they could be more informed when talking to tourists.

One of these good folk asked, “Where is the ballroom? And the music room?”

Such is the ‘mythology’ of houses which haven’t been open to the public and haven’t had many visitors for the last forty years.

We’ve been told that the formal living room was indeed used for old-fashioned country dances, with all furniture and carpets removed, a band in the hall next door, and a groaning supper table for after. (No doubt a couple of kegs outside, too!)

Stanton has always been, at heart, a party house, and again, there are adults in their 50s who can remember visiting as small children, attending one of these dances, and probably running around on the verandahs too!!

I haven’t worked out the music room reference, but can only think that perhaps the dance band in the hallway might have some connection? …

In any case, we have a music room of sorts today in the living room, where my piano sits waiting to be played by anyone so inclined.

My grandfather was a rather good pianist and I’ve inherited a lot of his music, so please feel free. We’ve always felt Stanton inspires the creative streak in people, and so, in order to foster this, we’ve provided as many different opportunities to ‘set the scene’.

A couple of whistles and recorders are on the piano, but I also have a bodhran (one of those rather basic but terrifically evocative Irish hand drums), along with a book and cd instructions, and a recent addition, a beautiful guitar, courtesy of good friend and musician extraordinaire, John Allen from Brisbane. (Watch this site for upcoming sound bytes of John’s music.)

If you’re a guitarist on holidays without an instrument and are starting to fret, then look no further. By the same token, if you’ve always wanted to teach yourself a few chords but haven’t had access to a guitar, then I have a few manuals to help out. Go on holidays to Stanton and return home with Jimi Hendrix-type delusions! Then there’s always air-guitar, assisted by a CD player and an eclectic collection of compact discs with which to pretend.

If music isn’t your thing, then the large wooden chest is filled with jigsaw puzzles, games, magazines, cards, chess set with which to wile away the time in front of the fire, ably assisted by port and sherry decanters on the sideboard.

I suppose dancing isn’t completely out of the question still …

Okay, so you’ve given the password, the front door has opened, and you’re in. Relax – the biggest decision you’re going to have to make is whether you want tea or coffee on your tea tray, and what time you think breakfast should be served.

But be warned, those who have procrastinated (or don’t sign the visitors’ book), have been known to languish in the cellars below this hallway and the living room.

Through a large trapdoor just behind the oval table, and down to a fairly large cavity, complete with barred window, sandstone shelves on either side of the chimney breast and supposedly manacles set into the wall down at ankle level, this was at times used to keep convicts confined, although I can’t believe that this was their permanent subterranean abode, but more a punishment.

Also, given that the arm of the law would have been quite a stretch away, the cellars were also used as a pseudo watch house for neighbourhood miscreants. At present this area has been partially filled in with dirt, but it is still possible to go down with a torch and have a look, and one of our plans for the future includes a ‘cellar party’ – BYO bucket and spade!

At the moment, our wine is kept in the cupboard to the left of the dining room door, under the stairs, but one day … please, can I be sent to the cellar as punishment??

Gotta love that Georgian symmetry. Now if i could only get the hydrangeas to co-operate….

Simple, efficient, elegant, modern — with a salute to past eras.

One of the more amusing stories came when, prior to dividing a larger bedroom into two mirror-image bathrooms, a gentleman was shown around the house, and said, “Well, of course, you’re going to put in authentic Georgian bathrooms, aren’t you?”

Slightly stunned, I thought he was having a go, then realised, no, he’s serious.

“What, a pot under the bed, a tin bath in front of the fire, and a jug and basin in the corner, with the use of an outhouse during the day?”

Spluttering, he recovered his equilibrium, and joked it off, for of course, he had meant a Victorian bathroom.

Another well-meaning friend was adamant that we should have large spa baths in the bathrooms, but I replied that I thought guests would understand that the integrity of the house, and indeed the skillion roof, didn’t leave enough room for these, and besides, we have the heated spa house in the garden which is a much more social way in which to “spa”.

Stanton bed and breakfast library (pic to come)

Little did we realise that we would tap into such a common vein of desire as when we decided to turn what had been a little bedroom into our library!

Without exception, this room inspires strong responses, ranging from a bemused “Where do I start?” to “That chair is mine!” to “You mean you trust people with your babies?!” to “That’s it! I’m never leaving!”

Without fail, when guests are in the house, the single glass next to the port decanter in this room is used, and I smile when returning books from their bedside sojourn to their usual home.

Thirty years of collecting is reflected in the wide variety of topics represented on the shelves, and we are comfortable in guaranteeing that everyone will find something of interest here.

Setting the breakfast and waiting on table isn’t a chore in Stanton’s dining room.

I feel a long line of women standing behind me during the daily rituals of handling Wedgewood china, polishing silverware, arranging flowers from the gardens, starching table linen, replenishing fruit bowls, hand washing the older china and glass.

Since one of the windows faces the east, the room in the morning is awash with sunlight (except on those ‘soft’ days, as the Irish so romantically call them), and on the colder days, the open fire gives off a comforting glow.

Breakfast is an event here, in which everyone has a part to play, as large or as cameo as they can cope with before their first cup of coffee.

Discussions of the day’s planned activities, recommendations, must-see attractions, the finding of common interests/friends/occupations — the table welcomes it all.