So many characters have found refuge in what is now the Lord Crewe Arms in Blanchland: 12th-century monks and abbots; later owners the Forster family, one of whom hid in the huge fireplace during a Jacobite uprising; and hotel guests WH Auden and Philip Larkin. Now it’s our turn. My sister, my granny, my toddler and I are retreating to this beautiful village, once part of Blanchland Abbey, and bought by Lord Crewe in the early 1700s. It’s in the far north-east corner of the under-rated North Pennines Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.
Coming from the south, the road is a gorgeous undulation, passing the Derwent reservoir, climbing to a crest with moorland views and descending into the Derwent valley, lined with tall mist-shrouded trees on the cusp of Northumberland and County Durham.
The hotel was built in 1165 as an abbot’s lodge, with a cloister and guesthouse for visiting clergy, and still looks the part, with crenellated towers, heavy studded doors, thick stone archways and flagstone floors. The atmosphere is anything but monastic, though: jolly staff crack jokes as I sit on a tweedy sofa by the fire filling in arrivals forms, and weekend breakers from Newcastle nurse cocktails and local ales in the vaulted crypt bar.
Our rooms are across the road in the Abbot’s Guest House. They’ve got the styling so right here, subtly complementing the building without fetishising its history and running away with a theme. The rooms are named after endearing-sounding local places. Mine, Muggleswick, is a feast of cosy comfort. There’s a fluffy hot water bottle, an original fireplace, smart Madame Stolz tea things, Northumbrian fudge, good biscuits, and silence. Fun additions include a bedroom door sign with “moor bound” on one side and “more peace” on the other, and a copy of Susan Bell’s 2014 novel A Similar Devotion, which is set in these parts: chapters featuring Blanchland are marked.
I go for a “quick” run before dinner, up a steep hill, through stunning forest, where red squirrels shriek, to higher, sparser, sheep-grazed moorland – and end up lost for almost two hours. From on high the village is invisible in the forested valley, hidden by leaves like a trap. Eventually I find my way back for dinner, in the most atmospheric dining area imaginable. With its vast open fireplace, it could be a Game of Thrones set. The walls are hung with large portraits and wrought-iron sculptures, one a reworked suit of armour. Long wooden tables look ideal for carving up freshly speared boars … or traitors.
But this isn’t some gimmicky historic reenactment; the hotel is a slick, smart, operation. Cheerful staff are generous with both my naughty two-year-old and my 87-year-old granny, even though one of them throws food on the floor and strips off her clothes during dinner.
Cheeky signs saying “no riffraff” and cushions translating words from the local dialect – “clarty”, “fettle”, “muckle” and “plodge” – add friendliness to the crypt bar, which, with its settles and vaulted ceiling, looks like the sort of medieval tavern characters visit in films to change horses. There are grounds to match, with croquet lawn and walled kitchen garden. The food is fantastic. Dressed Portland crab is sweet and delicate; courgettes from that kitchen garden are in season so they, happily, form the one vegetable side dish that evening.
The only hiccup comes the next morning: the breakfast buffet is laid out in the upper dining rooms, which granny – or anyone with mobility issues – just can’t get to, and no one offers to help us fetch stuff. (The more able of us dash up and down the steep stone stairs with toast and juice.) But we’re content in the cosy dungeon again, and menu options include hen or duck eggs and, oh lord, cheesy crumpets!
This rarely happens but the Lord Crewe has got everything absolutely right. I love it all: it’s so atmospheric, so stylish and so transporting – like being zapped inside a novel in a mysterious, beautiful, totally underrated location. I’m moving it into my top three favourite UK hotels ever, and it would make a wonderful festive break. Monk or not, get a room if you can.
• Accommodation was provided by the Lord Crewe Arms (doubles from £99 B&B, 01434 675 469, lordcrewearmsblanchland.co.uk)
Ask a local
Simon Young and Jenny Vaughan of Re interiors shop in Corbridge
• Eat and drink
Good pubs include the Manor House at Carterway Heads, the Angel Inn in Corbridge, the Feathers at Hedley on the Hill, and in Frosterley, the Black Bull, with a traditional interior stuffed with old bits and pieces and which does fab food.
• See
Walk from the Lord Crewe past the old lead mines and Penny Pie cottage, where the farmer’s wife used to sell pies from her window to the miners, to Blanchland moor. Also pop in to Corbridge’s great independent shops, and Hexham Abbey.
