We need to talk about Sandra.
When you reach a certain age your world changes. You walk around town and you don't see Claire's Accessories, Topman or MacD's any more. You see Monsoon, Austin Reed and Cafe Rouge. You buy online from Fat Face or Boden rather than scrum down on the racks of H&M. Same with holidays. No more Magaluf, begone Faliraki; hello Alistair Sawday.
Alistair Sawday, or rather his army of part time travel writers, finds and publicises small B&Bs, country hotels and gites for the middle classes. His books are incredibly popular, each property having one page, one photo and some purple prose to sell the proposition. But what really seals the deal is the brand. It's in Sawday. It will be good. It'll be run for people like us, by people like us. They really are "special places to stay". Perfect.
Sawday's. It's becoming a verb.
"We Sawday-ed this year." That single word says everything about you. You like comfort, countryside, cottages, restaurant recommendations, English spoken here, good table manners and definitely, no TV.
We Sawday. I love it. It takes all the hassle out of holidaying. The web gives us the whole world and we feel daunted. What will it really be like? Is it next to an abbatoir? On a roundabout? Above a nightclub? No. Not with Sawday. It will be just right. Nice and quirky. The sort of place we'd like to pretend we found all on our own. Our little secret. Except, a glance in the visitors book tells us we didn't. Nigel from Richmond, Tish from Guildford and Emily and the girls from Winchester all found it too. Our people! Nice.
Now we've nailed the Sawday standard we like to judge the place to see if it meets the mark. Does it deserve to still be in the top flight? Have they let success go to their heads? What was the welcome pack like? Why did they recommend so and so's restaurant when we had a better meal at such and suches? And when we do go off piste, take the risk and find our own place we always ask ourselves have we found a Sawday?
And in this case, we have.
Step forward Sandra Dolley.
The gite.
We came back this year and in two days she saved our holiday. We'd gone down to Gascony to stay just outside a
Bastide in a very appealing looking gite. Unfortunately we just didn't click, the place and I. It was too hot, too hilly, too flyblown. Or maybe it was me. Whatevs. It wasn't working.
What to do? Four euros in an internet cafe and we had our answer. Yes, Sandra had let the gite but she was more than happy to take us in the main house on a B&B basis. Hurrah! We sped back to the house, packed and fled. After a scary two hour drive we were 140 miles closer to home and lolling in the lap of luxury.
Sandra Dolley knows how to welcome guests. Her house, in the pretty hamlet of La Gilardie, just to the left of the middle of nowhere is an oasis of peace and order. Hummingbird Hawk moths flit from lavender bush to lavender bush as we sit and recover with a cool beer. The room, with its own entrance was spacious and cool.
The pool area is quite lovely and in a new addition since our last visit, the gym was fully equipped and operational. Sandra has a way with tired travellers. She has that instinctive grasp of hospitality and seems to be genuinely interested in you, as well as willing to share something of herself. She makes you feel at home and that nothing is too much trouble. A restaurant? She'll book it. A drink? On it's way. Breakfast?
Breakfast. How does she do it? Fresh waffles at 8.30. Brioche, fresh fruit salad (changes daily), home made confiture, croissants and lovely coffee. Too much but too delicious to stop.....
Sandra Dolley treats you as if you are family and in turn you can't help feeling like you've come home.
Main house
The area is just lovely. Etangs hidden by trees. Herds of cattle and fields of sunflowers. Rolling hills and streams everywhere. Why did it take us three years to go back?
Sandra isn't in Sawday's. But she should be. We think she is the epitome of the perfect host. Try her and tell me what you think.
And incidentally, our holiday dog from 2005 is still alive and thriving. He's been adopted by another family in the hamlet and gets to sleep indoors now, we hear. His name's Yeuk and he's pleased to see any of Sandra's houseguests any time......
Careful Yeuk, she's taken.Labels: Rural idyll
Srebotnik, with a nice, wide stance
Ashley Harkleroad, preventing chafing
My favourite, the demure Hantuchova once more.
Agnes Szaray, seeing it big
Ashley Harkleroad, again. Racking up the points
Bethanie Mattek, in full flow.
Mattek, sorting out her evening's entertainment
Who let the puppies out? Tamara Paszek, that's who.
Ashley Harkleroad, at the pre-match toss up in the final of the Playboy Centrefold Open....
Federer serving it out
Roddick, punishing the ball
Roddick bringing a world of pain to his racket
