Originally published by the Guardian, Saturday 20 March 2010

When I think there can be nothing new under the sun, a bed and breakfast comes up with a first. “Welcome Sally!” is chalked on a blackboard propped in the farmyard. A clever way of saying, “Please park here.”

This organic dairy farm lies at the southern end of the limestone plateau of the Peak District, near the confluence of the rivers Dove and Manifold, the Dove forming the county boundary between Staffordshire and Derbyshire. Ignoramus that I am, I didn’t realise part of the Peak District is in Staffordshire – but artist Sue Prince, who runs Beechenhill Farm with farmer husband Terry, soon puts me right on that score. (Due to a postcode anomaly, the Post Office puts Beechenhill Farm in Derbyshire but it is actually in Staffordshire.)

We’ve spent far more time on the motorway this Friday night than anticipated, and are spectacularly late. Swiftly taking us up to a large room above the guest sitting room, Sue gives my bloke directions to the pub where we’re booked in for dinner.

We hit the road again. Here it is, The George at Alstonefield. Phew – they’ve kept our table. Within minutes of sitting down in this lovely old pub, we are at one with the world. The main reason is a pear poached with a hint of saffron and stuffed with a creamy Stilton mousse, which we share as a starter. Space prevents me waxing lyrical about Tissington sausages, chicken Kiev, or the subtle rough-luxe interior, because I am reserving column inches for the next instalment of our evening.

This time we appreciate the velvety blackness that stretches beyond the reach of the car headlights. Back at Beechenhill Farm, Sue urges us to use our reserved slot in the outdoor hot tub. Do I really have to go outside in the freezing cold in a bathing costume? Can’t we switch our slot to morning?

“Come on – it’ll be great,” says my bloke. We change, sling on the big bathrobes in our room and, feeling slightly silly, follow Sue through the night-shrouded garden.

She shows us a secluded little stone bothy beside the tub, in which she has put candles, a basket containing a bottle of fizz, chocolates and folded towels beside a pot-bellied Scandinavian wood stove which is chucking out heat, then leaves us to it. We dump robes in the “love cave” and race outside. Splash. We’re in.

All things being eco here, the tub is wood-fired. None of that frightful buzzing these things normally make, just woodsmoke wafting deliciously past our nostrils. We float, beneath a clear starry sky, a slight breeze kissing our shoulders. There’s no sound but the occasional rustle of nocturnal wildlife. Getting out into frosty night air is a shock, but what a wonderful evening this has turned out to be. We are so chilled when we go back indoors, we can barely speak.

Our quarters, a family room with a double and a single, is a rustic blend of pine and wicker, with a crewel-work panel on the wall and shutters at the mullioned window. We have little packets of locally made biscuits, a small flat-screen telly and eco-toiletries in the tiny shower room. Simple, comfy farm B&B – what makes it special is the sybaritic surprise at the bottom of the garden, the gastropub close by and, in the morning, the simply stunning location which daylight reveals beyond our window.

Ilam
Ashbourne
01335 310274
beechenhill.co.uk

£40pp per night B&B; two nights minimum; closes between December and March but self-catering available year-round in converted outbuildings.

The George at Alstonefield (01335 310205, thegeorgeatalstonefield.com); main courses around £10-£16. Further information: enjoystaffordshire.com.