Stanton Bed & Breakfast

A pleasant surprise in today’s Sunday Tasmanian — a full-page article on Stanton Bed and Breakfast by Alison Ribbon and photographer Amy Brown.

With all these ‘lists’, one could be forgiven for thinking that Stanton is merely a paradise of lost hours, lying around reading, listening to music, watching movies, smelling the flowers, munching on fresh produce.

Well, you’d be right, of course, there is an awful lot of that goes on, but this summer has been probably our busiest period since opening, and despite early mornings, late nights, copious quantities of wine consumed with guests, snowy white mountains of washing, the ache of clean shower recesses, and the complete inability to keep up with the triffid-infested expanses of garden, we’ve actually had a brilliant time.

Not only that — our guests appear to have enjoyed themselves too!

From impromptu picnics on the front terrace overlooking the dam at sunset, to intermittent giggling and splashing in the champagne-sodden spa house, to late breakfasts that threatened to continue until lunchtime, to a quiet glass of port in the library, or a quiet walk (with Sam the faithful) through the back paddocks at dawn, every visitor seems to have found something to gladden their heart or feed their soul.

Books we’ve read during January: Nicholas Shakespeare’s In Tasmania (constantly amazed by this wondrous island, its history and secrets); Vikram Seth’s Two Lives (terrific Christmas present); Artemis Fowl (likewise Christmas present, but wouldn’t it make a good movie?!); Simon Jenkins’ England’s 1000 Best Houses(inspiration/envy factor), JK Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (able to speak with some authority with the young fry); Joanne Harris’ Jigs and Reels (’cause anything she writes is okay by me); Jacquie French’s Chook Book (3 guesses what the main winter project is going to be this year?); William Dalrymple’s From the Holy Mountain (travel writers have always fascinated and this one’s no exception).

Inside the CD player this month: lots of Kate Rusby (young northern English folk singer — do yourself a favour), The Waifs, Sting, Dougie Maclean (Scottish legend — 25 years ago he was responsible for me turning to the dark side — folk music …), The Wailing Jennies (Canadian group — 4 incredibly talented women with voices to die for), Red Hot Chilli Peppers (Mark’s Christmas present — don’t ask me), Albinoni Oboe Concertos, played by Anthony Camden; Jessye Norman singing Richard Strauss — yum; Carlos Santana — VERY loud it blocks out Sam’s barking when I do the vacuuming; Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos — helps with the Sudoku somehow — going to try it out on the bookkeeping …

DVD acquisitions/gifts: Richard Curtis’ Love Actually; Northern Exposure 2nd series; House of Elliot 1st series; Elizabeth (a la Cate Blanchett); Battle of Britain (oldie but a goodie with a stellar cast); Sense and Sensibility (just love costume dramas).

Garden goodies harvested this month: giant rhubarb, silverbeet, English spinach, broccoli, beetroot, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, carrots, all sorts of lettuce, cabbages, strawberries, raspberries.

The ‘bloomin’ garden (sorry Peter Cundall) is currently awash with roses, lavender, Oriental lilliums, hydrangeas (those that haven’t been burnt by a few nasty hot windy days — yes, we get them), dahlias, daisies, penstamon, Californian tree poppies (can’t remember their proper name, but they’re as big as dinner plates!), pelargonums, alstromeria, Japanese wind flowers, carnations, salvia, sage of many different varieties, and all the usual little visitors — alyssum, poppies, violas (and lots of pretty weeds!)

Thought we’d include a few shots of the unusually green gardens of December/January — so many people visit Tasmania in the summer and wonder why it is so brown. We had unexpected but very welcome rain very late this year, and so, no water restrictions, and green grass! Hooray!

We’ve planned and we’ve plotted, we’ve dusted and swept,
We’ve weeded and painted until we’ve all wept.

May your Christmas be joyful with large laden reindeer,
And hopefully Stanton might see you all next year.

The very best wishes for Christmas and the New Year from all at Stanton

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 …