Bliss

You spend the day walking through countless castles, in rain and shine, in gardens and corridors, on trains and in vans. You arrive at your next hotel, Dormy House, where you will be staying for the next four nights. You speak eloquently and elegantly, feeling like you stepped out of a late 19th century dream. You are lead to your room, a spacious suite with a full living room, rain shower, metal bath tub (more on that later), two fluffy twin beds, two televisions with internet capabilities, and views of the sunset and countryside. 



You spend about an hour relaxing, laughing with your sister over Buzzfeed quizzes and eating the free cookies provided, as well as ordering the complimentary milk available upon request. You chat with the receptionist and are able to switch your champagne out for six bottles of juice. She still asks if you need more.

Dinner is at 8:30 pm. Upon arrival, you ask where the "washroom" is located and feel very fancy. Your dinner consists of Gnocchi with broccoli, cashews, edamame, and a butter pesto, and you sample your family's dishes, which include farm fresh poached eggs on tartlets and beet salad with goat cheese.

You retreat back to your suite, where you proceed to finish the hat you were knitting for the past week. A sense of accomplishment fills you.

You set up what will be the best bath of your life, in a large, Victorian style metal tub that still has running water. It includes a shelf that you will later discover was for shampoo and soap, but for now you use it to hold your knitting magazines. This is the dream.


You finish your bath, step out and drain the large tub, and rinse off any leftover soap or conditioner in the rain shower. Your towel is waiting on the heated rack. 

You step out into the hallway and find a luxurious white bath robe hanging in the large and well lit closet. You slip into it and feel like a goddess.

You remember you get to write about all of this on your travel blog and make everyone jealous. You hide a smirky smile in the mirror.

You sit in a comfortable purple chair by the window overlooking the dark British night. 

This is bliss.