Cholwell by Isabella

My Special Place

When I step out of our car into the old hotel car park, the first thing I notice is the faint, somewhat sickening but also quite comforting smell of the countryside. The vines wrap around the old hotel castle-like buildings, and the sound of the river running through the town are always there to greet me upon my arrival. I climb the old stone steps with my heavy green suitcase, and push the stiff back door to the hotel.

The carpet in the hotel is a warm red colour, and the walls a yellowy gold. There is always a fire burning in the lounge, and the hotel is constantly cosy and welcoming. The garden at the hotel is a large lawn, with a river between it and the hotel itself. To get to it you cross a rickety old bridge, which is a very good place to play Pooh-Sticks.

The town itself is a small country village. There is a viaduct which acts like a large bridge above the main road. On one side of it, is a gorge with a path through its middle. Whatever the weather, the gorge is humid, and in winter, the waterfalls freeze. This is one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.

My favourite thing about my favourite place though, is the stables. Even though I have my own horse, Boris, I can’t ride him because he’s too small for me, so I ride at the local stables, Cholwell. The stables in London where I ride would never dream of letting me do some of the things I do up on the moor with Cholwell. But I always feel safe, even when I am galloping recklessly on the stables’ naughtiest pony.

Isabella