Heavenly Beverley : A Brief Respite from the Maelstrom

Sunday 26 March 2017

A Brief Respite from the Maelstrom

Friday was a particularly awful day. We were all tired from a week of shuffling in and out of the hospital to be with Lucky. He was uncomfortable and crotchety. His condition remained the same and his prognosis remained uncertain. Visitors wore him out but he voiced his loneliness when on his own. For a man who had prided himself on being physically busy, Lucky's illness had become excruciating. And he was frightened and fretful. Who wouldn't be under the same circumstances?

We had all gathered early. The day wore on. I was on edge from weariness. Eventually, I had to leave. We had secured a room at the Rose and Crown Hotel in Guildford earlier in the day and I needed a break away from the emotion that was swirling around us all.

So I checked in. The Rose and Crown is a delightful pub and offers very pleasant accommodation. At over one hundred and seventy-five years of age, she is a grand Georgian old lady, the oldest operating hotel in Western Australia. Kathy on reception was a marvellously cheery and compassionate presence. She had upgraded us into one of the Heritage Suites on the first floor of the original building. I was almost overwhelmed, firstly by her empathy and then by the stairs.

Feeling rather like a pack horse, I gasped my way up and down the stairs several times, bringing in enough luggage for a remote expedition. By the time, I staggered into the Emerald Room for the last time, I was completely shattered. This was one of the few times I regretted my complete absence of fitness.

The bed was soft, luxurious and welcoming. I was enveloped in a cloud of warm crisp comfort. I had opened the French doors to the balcony overlooking the garden and I was eventually lulled to sleep by the murmuring of guests below and the warmth of the afternoon sun on the bed.

Michael woke me via the phone after five. I collected him from the hospital and we retreated into another world. We sat in the garden with our evening drinks and then were second in line when the restaurant opened at six. Beautiful food, a superb and outrageously expensive bottle of Shiraz and convivial surroundings transported us to a temporary paradise. Post dinner, we traipsed our way down into the cellar, Michael pointing out the entry to the tunnel that had used to traverse the underground to the river.

We retired to our room to watch Michael Portillo and his gentle railway journeys. Once in bed, our eyes progressively drooped towards full closure. We were both asleep by nine o'clock and slept soundly with only a couple of brief moments of wakefulness to attend to personal ablutions. If there were any ghostly apparitions flitting around, we were blissfully unaware.

A beautiful morning, we checked in our key before breakfast. We also had to report the commencement of some alarming eruptions from the loo. Horrified that we had somehow blocked the pipes, we were most relieved when Kathy assured us that the old lady's plumbing was in a somewhat delicate condition and we were not the only ones to experience burblings of water from the facilities.

We had a very friendly and enjoyable chat with both Kathy and Mark Weber, the owner of both the Rose and Crown and the Mahogany Inn. We discovered shared passions with Mark of historic buildings, earlier times of Western Australia and the delights of red wine. He remarked that Michael obviously had very discerning taste in choosing the Shiraz made in heaven we had consumed the previous evening.

The 1841 breakfast was luscious, substantial and fortified us for the rest of the day. We left, feeling more rested than we had for several days.

Back to reality.