Escape to Bliss: Slowley Farm Cottage Awaits in Blue Anchor, UK
Alright, buckle up buttercups, because we're diving headfirst into the supposed bliss of Escape to Bliss: Slowley Farm Cottage in Blue Anchor, UK. Forget your perfectly curated travel blogs – I'm about to give you the real, uncensored, possibly slightly-too-honest lowdown. Consider this your virtual pre-flight safety briefing.
First Impressions (and a Slightly Disorganized Rant):
So, Blue Anchor. Sounds quaint, right? Coastal charm, windswept shores… the dream. The reality? Well, it's a bit… quiet. Which, honestly, is the whole point, isn't it? Slowley Farm Cottage promises escape, and boy, does it deliver in that department. Getting to it? Okay, now we're talking accessibility. This part is IMPORTANT, so lean in, folks.
Accessibility: Navigating the Escape (and the Physical World):
Here’s the thing: accessibility is a sliding scale, and I haven't personally tested this hotel in every single way. However, based on the listed facilities, this spot seems to try. The fact sheet boasts of "Facilities for disabled guests" - which could mean anything from a slightly wider doorframe to a full-blown accessible paradise.
- Wheelchair Accessible: The listing suggests accessibility, but you'll need to verify this directly with Slowley Farm Cottage. Call them. Email them. Get specifics. Is the path to the entrance flat? Are the rooms and bathrooms truly accessible? Don't assume! That's your homework.
- Elevator: Present! Score one for folks who don't like climbing stairs.
- Air Conditioning in Public Areas: Good, because even in the UK, summers can… happen.
- Car Park [on-site], Car park [free of charge]: This is huge. Parking in the UK can be a nightmare. Free and on-site? Bless the planners!
The Bliss Factor (or, Where’s That Damn Relaxation?):
Right, the juicy stuff. They’re promising bliss. Let's see if they deliver.
- Spa/Sauna/Spa/Sauna: Okay, they REALLY want you to know about the spa. Makes me think it's their biggest selling point. The potential for a good sauna session after a bracing walk on the beach? Yes, please. I can almost feel the steam already… (or maybe I just need a shower).
- Pool with View, Swimming pool [outdoor]: Outdoor pool in the UK? Bold move. Pray for sunshine. This one, if the weather cooperates, could be glorious. Poolside bar? Even better. But let's be realistic: you're likely to be admiring the view of the grey Atlantic.
- Fitness Center, Gym/fitness: Well, if you're the overly energized type. My idea of exercise on a holiday is walking, a lot. But hey, at least it's there if you’re feeling guilty about all the… (checks notes) … desserts in the restaurant.
- Body Scrub, Body Wrap, Massage: This is where they REALLY grab my attention. A good massage can erase all the stress and anxieties of life. That’s the escape you’re looking for, right? After a long day of… things? Let's assume it's a long day of doing absolutely nothing productive. Ahhh.
Dining, Drinking, and Snacking: The Fuel for Bliss (and Potential Disasters):
Food is everything. Especially on a trip designed to escape.
- Restaurants, Bar, Coffee shop, Poolside bar, Snack bar: Abundance is a good sign. Multiple eating options are always a win. I’m particularly interested in the Poolside bar for obvious reasons.
- A la carte in restaurant, Buffet in restaurant: Options, options, options. I can handle this.
- Breakfast service, Breakfast in room, Breakfast [buffet]: Okay, I am here for the breakfast. Buffet is classic, but Breakfast in Room? Now you're talking. Imagine: fluffy robe, seaside view, and a bacon-filled feast delivered straight to your… well, your room.
- Asian Cuisine in restaurant, Vegetarian restaurant, International cuisine in restaurant, Western cuisine in restaurant: A touch of variety. My heart is set on the Asian cuisine!
- Desserts in restaurant, Happy hour, Salad in restaurant: Yes! Please to Happy Hour, and Salad, and Desserts. This promises a good dining experience.
- Room service [24-hour]: Crucial. Always. For those late-night cravings or the “I’m-never-leaving-this-room” moments.
- Breakfast takeaway service: Ideal for early morning walks or excursions. Think picnics. Think escaping.
Cleanliness and Safety: Surviving the Modern World (Hopefully):
Let's be honest, the world feels a little… germy these days. So, how does Slowley Farm Cottage stack up?
- Anti-viral cleaning products, Daily disinfection in common areas, Hygiene certification, Room sanitization opt-out available, Rooms sanitized between stays, Staff trained in safety protocol, Sterilizing equipment: All GREAT signs. They seem to be taking things seriously, which is comforting.
- Hand sanitizer: Always welcome.
- Safe dining setup, Sanitized kitchen and tableware items: Important for peace of mind.
- Physical distancing of at least 1 meter: Let's hope they're enforcing this properly.
The Room: Your Escape Pod (or, Will You Actually be Comfortable?):
This is where it all comes down to. Your literal, physical space.
- Available in all rooms: I really really want to find out what each room offers in terms of these.
- Additional toilet: Always a bonus if you're sharing.
- Air conditioning: A godsend, even in the UK.
- Alarm clock, Bathtub, Bathrobes, Blackout curtains, Carpeting, Closet, Coffee/tea maker, Complimentary tea, Daily housekeeping, Desk, Extra long bed, Free bottled water, Hair dryer, High floor, In-room safe box, Interconnecting room(s) available, Internet access – LAN, Internet access – wireless, Ironing facilities, Laptop workspace, Linens, Mini bar, Mirror, Non-smoking, On-demand movies, Private bathroom, Reading light, Refrigerator, Safety/security feature, Satellite/cable channels, Scale, Seating area, Separate shower/bathtub, Shower, Slippers, Smoke detector, Socket near the bed, Sofa, Soundproofing, Telephone, Toiletries, Towels, Umbrella, Visual alarm, Wake-up service, Wi-Fi [free], Window that opens: The list is impressive. They seem to have thought of everything. From the extra long bed (bliss for tall people) to blackout curtains (essential for a good lie-in). And Free Wi-Fi? Crucial for Instagramming your bliss (or, you know, actually working if you absolutely must)
Services and Conveniences: The Little Things That Make a Difference (and the Ones That Don't):
- Concierge, Daily housekeeping, Doorman, Dry cleaning, Elevator, Facilities for disabled guests, Food delivery, Laundry service, Luggage storage, Room service [24-hour]: Standard stuff, but all welcome.
- Babysitting service, Family/child friendly, Kids meal: Good for families, not so much for the solo escapist (though I'm tempted to hire a kid to test the Kids meal).
- Cash withdrawal, Convenience store, Currency exchange, Gift/souvenir shop: Useful, even if you're trying to escape consumerism.
- Dry cleaning: Excellent to have on hand.
- Meeting/banquet facilities, Meetings, Meeting stationery, Outdoor venue for special events, Seminars: Less relevant for a relaxing getaway, unless you're planning a very unusual seminar on bliss.
- Smoking area: Sigh. At least it's confined.
- Smoking area: Sigh. At least it's confined.
For the Kids: The Unnecessary Bits
- Babysitting service, Family/child friendly, Kids facilities, Kids meal: Great if you’re traveling with little ones, but probably not on your priority list if you’re escaping from them.
Getting Around: Freedom of Movement (or, How to Actually Get There):
- Airport transfer: Helpful.
- Bicycle parking: Blue Anchor is perfect for a bike ride.
- Car park [free of charge], Car park [on-site]: Super important.
- Taxi service: Seems handy.
- Valet parking: A touch fancy, but hey, it's an escape!
Things to Do (Beyond Just Existing):
This is where things get… vague, which is actually kind of perfect for an escape. The beauty of Blue Anchor (and I'm presuming, Slowley Farm) is that things are slow.
- **CCTV in common areas, CCTV outside property, Check-in/out [
Okay, buckle up, Buttercup, because this itinerary for that blasted Slowley Farm Cottage in Blue Anchor is gonna be a wild ride. Forget that perfectly-polished travel blog crap; this is real life, baby!
Slowley Farm Cottage: My Blue Anchor Brain Dump (and maybe some actual plans)
Pre-Trip Panic (aka, The Great Packing Debacle)
- Date: (Let's pretend it's the next long weekend, 'cause who has time to plan further out?)
- Destination: Slowley Farm Cottage, Blue Anchor, Somerset, UK. (Already feeling the urge to correct "Somerset" to "Gawddamn Somerset," depending on the weather.)
- The Mindset: Existential dread mixed with the desperate hope I haven't forgotten any charging cables. Also, what if there are spiders? (Deep breaths, self. Deep breaths.)
Day 1: The Pilgrimage Begins (and it's probably going to rain)
Morning (6:00 - 9:00 AM):
- The Packing Apocalypse, Part II: Okay, so I thought I packed everything. Now I'm finding random teabags and half-eaten packets of biscuits I swear I didn't put there. Clearly, my suitcase has a mind of its own. Also, am I just carrying around the same clothes I always bring?
- Train/Car - London to Blue Anchor (or, "Why I Despise Rush Hour"): Pray to whatever celestial beings you believe in that the train isn’t delayed. If it is, expect me to be muttering darkly about “the British Rail experience” – which, let’s be honest, is usually a euphemism for "waiting in the rain with questionable sandwiches." The drive if going can be almost as bad, but I'll be allowed to bring more chocolate.
- Coffee Stop: Gotta find a decent pit stop between London Town to break up the train journey. I need a triple espresso and a sausage roll. Or maybe two. Whatever stops the tremors of existential angst.
- Emotional Reaction: The car journey will include a moment of sheer bliss when I spot a particularly fluffy sheep. And probably a moment of total rage when I get stuck behind a tractor.
Afternoon (12:00 - 5:00 PM):
- Arrival & Cottage Inspection: Unlocking the door to Slowley Farm Cottage. Praying it smells of old books and not damp. First order of business: locate the kettle. Second: make sure there are no spiders. (See above.)
- Unpacking Fiasco: Or rather, the triumphant spreading of my possessions throughout the cottage, like a victorious conqueror.
- Seaside Stroll (or, "Fighting the Wind"): Blue Anchor beach in all its glory, even if it's raining sideways. Gotta see the sea! A photo of the waves smashing into the sea-wall is mandatory. Prepare for windburn, and maybe the existential sadness that something like the sea can be so powerful.
Evening (6:00 PM onwards):
- Grocery Run & Pub Reconnaissance: Getting supplies at the local shop (probably overpaying, but who cares?). Then, the vital pub inspection. Is there a fireplace? Is the ale decent? Is the atmosphere warm and welcoming or filled with gloomy locals who actively hate tourists? These are the questions that keep me up at night.
- Dinner & Book Time: Home-cooked (or takeaway) dinner in front of the fireplace, or a good book. Probably both. Maybe a cheeky wee dram of something strong.
- Emotional Crud: A moment of quiet contemplation as I wonder if I should have just stayed home. Then, another moment of sheer joy as I remember I can do whatever I want.
Day 2: Adventures (and potential for disaster)
Morning (9:00 AM - 12:00 PM):
- Exmoor National Park: A hike. Just a nice, gentle one. I'm aiming for a "picturesque viewpoint" and not a "near-death experience" (though the latter is always a possibility).
- The Great Exmoor Incident (or, "I Got Lost in a Bog"): Okay, this is where things could get messy. The idea of hiking is a nice thought, the execution is where the fun comes in. Expect this to go one of two ways:
- Me conquering hills, spotting rare birds, and generally feeling like a freaking champion of nature.
- Me getting hopelessly lost, covered in mud, and yelling at the sheep. (Again.)
- Observation: I need to learn to read a map and bring more snacks.
Afternoon (12:00 - 5:00 PM):
- Lyme Regis: A scenic drive down to Lyme Regis, for a spot of fossil hunting. I have the ambition to find a perfect ichthyosaur, but the truth is I'm probably going to find a wet rock and be happy.
- The best fish and chips: Or the world's okayest, because, with the amount of tourists, it's never the best.
- Emotional Reaction: An overwhelming desire to live by the sea. Followed by a sharp reminder that I hate sand.
Evening (6:00 PM onwards):
- Pub Round Two: Another visit to the pub, but this time I’m going to try and chat with the locals. I'll probably end up just awkwardly nodding and pretending I understand their accents.
- Board Games or… more book time: The perfect end to a perfect day.
Day 3: The Calm Before the Commute
Morning (9:00 AM - 12:00 PM):
- Slowley Farm Cottage Cleanup Fiasco: Clean the cottage and pack. Realize I've left something vital behind. Panic.
- The Sea Again: One last wander on the beach. Watch the waves, try not to think about having to go back to reality.
- Emotional Reaction: A bittersweet mix of melancholy and the quiet joy of knowing that yes, I must leave this lovely spot.
Afternoon (12:00- 5:00 PM):
- Last Pub Lunch: Yes, probably. With a massive pie. Stare out the window wistfully.
- The Journey Back: A long train/car ride. Praying the transport gods are on my side again.
- Emotional Reaction: The sadness of leaving, the anticipation of my own bed.
Evening (6:00 PM onwards):
- Home: Unpack the suitcase. Wonder if I was on a different planet for the last few days.
- Reflect: Start planning the next trip.
The Imperfections Department (aka, What Could Go Wrong, Probably Will)
- Weather: Guaranteed rain at some point. Maybe all the points.
- Unexpected Delays: Trains, traffic, rogue sheep blocking the road, etc. (See above.)
- Food Mishaps: Burning the toast, over-salting the dinner, or simply running out of biscuits.
- Existential Crises: A strong potential, especially if the weather is bad.
- Overall: Expect the unexpected. Embrace the chaos. And for goodness' sake, pack extra socks.
The Bottom Line
This isn't about ticking off boxes or adhering to a strict timetable. It's about surviving, thriving, and hopefully finding some joy amidst the chaos of life. Wish me luck. I’ll need it!
Unbelievable Views! Ashiwada Hotel: Your Fuji-san Escape Awaits
Okay, so, like, *what* is this thing anyway? I just... landed here. Am I in the right place?
You're in the FAQ section... of *something*. Look, even I'm not entirely sure what "thing" we're supposed to be clarifying. I just got the memo: "Write FAQs." So, if you were expecting laser-guided precision, you've come to the wrong (and probably my favorite) place. Consider this the "Everything I Wish Someone Had Told Me Before This Hot Mess Started" corner. (If, you know, "this hot mess" refers to… life, the internet, whatever this is. Let's just roll with it.)
Is this going to take a while? Because I have, like, a *thing*.
Oh, honey, yes. It's going to take a while. I’m a natural rambler. Prepare for tangents. I'm talking about the time I tried to make a soufflé and ended up with… a slightly-burnt, eggy pancake… after an hour of stress and sweating in my kitchen. I need to make a thing? I'll take you with me, because that's me. I'm also the sort of person who starts a project and gets distracted by squirrels. Or, in internet terms, clicking the next shiny link. So breathe. Pour a drink. This isn't a sprint, darling. It's a marathon... fueled by caffeine and mild existential dread.
Will you be using proper grammar and spelling? Because my inner grammar Nazi is twitching.
Okay, so… sometimes. I *try*. My brain is a beautiful, chaotic mess, the kind that occasionally forgets that "there," "their," and "they're" are NOT interchangeable. But I promise, the spirit is willing, even if the fingers are... a little less so. I mean, if I start to get too rigid with grammar, I'll probably just start thinking about all the things I *should* be doing (like, cleaning, or actually answering the questions properly), but then I'll get stressed. And honestly, that's not fun for anyone involved. So, maybe a few typos will sneak through, because who cares?
I need to *know* something specific. Can you actually...answer questions?
I mean, I *think* so? Depends on the question. If you ask me about the meaning of life, I'll probably just tell you I'm still trying to figure out that elusive "what" that is supposed to happen with the first question, but ask me about my favourite cats? Yes, the answer is always yes! I can talk about cats for days. Or maybe it’s a question about how to make the perfect chocolate chip cookie. I'm your gal. Even if the answer to the cookie question starts with, "Okay, so I *thought* I had all the ingredients..." and then devolves into a tale of last-minute grocery store runs and a near kitchen fire. But hey, it's the story that matters, right?
What's your whole "thing"? Why are you even *doing* this?
Oh, that's a deep one. Okay, brace yourself. I'm doing this because... well, isn't that what we all do? I want to feel… seen. Understood. I want to connect with people who are also wandering through this mess of life, occasionally tripping over their own feet while trying to navigate. Yes, it's probably an over-exaggerated way of saying "I'm just winging it," but I am. I am 100% winging it. And, if I can make someone laugh, or feel a little less alone in the world, then... well, that's probably a bonus. Because, let's be real, sometimes this whole "human experience" thing is just… absurd. I want to prove that yes, I am human. I burped. I cried over a commercial about a dog. I probably shouldn't have eaten that second helping of pasta. Okay, so I *definitely* shouldn't have eaten a third… but hey, here we are. I'm here for you and me, with all my imperfections, anxieties, and the questionable life choices I make. Together, it's a bit more bearable, right?
Alright, alright… what's been your biggest screw-up? You know, the one you still cringe about?
Oh, honey, pick one! See that mole on my nose? That's thanks to a sunburnt day, and it's a good story. But the *biggest* screw-up? Okay, here we go. (Deep breath.) I once, during a very important presentation, accidentally called my boss "Mom." In front of everyone. The entire sales team. It was supposed to be "momentum." I died a little inside. I wanted to just… vanish into the nearest potted plant. The silence was deafening. Then, to make it worse, I burst into tears. Because I'm classy like that. The mortification? It’s been years, and I still feel the heat. You can bet I still cringe to this day, when the memory hits me. Trust me, I've made enough mistakes to last a lifetime so that I can laugh about them. And now, so can you! Isn't that just lovely?
Any advice? For, you know, life?
Advice? From *me*? Oh, the irony. But, okay, here it is: Embrace the mess. Don’t be afraid to mess up. Laugh at yourself. Laugh often. Eat that cookie (or three). Tell someone you love them. Forgive yourself. And for the love of all that is holy, learn to say "no." Because you can't be everything to everyone, no matter how hard you try. I'm still working on all of those things, believe me. But hey, we're in this together, right? Now, have a good day. Or, you know, whatever.
