In a cosy cul-de-sac, not too far from the heart of Margaret River, stood our holiday oasis. ‘Vacancies’, it was our favourite word, from the moment we fled the disaster, that promised to be so much more. The Margaret River Guest House was a warm and welcoming contrast to our previously booked, ‘holiday rental’ (with ocean views). Read: spooky asbestos shack, situated in eerie town (ok, maybe the day was just overcast), in desperate need of a makeover… Or a bulldozer. The one thing it had going for it was the balcony and the ocean views but, “it wasn’t like the pictures”.
I’d pay to see judge
Perhaps our expectations had been a little high and yes I’ll admit, maybe we just got sucked in, I mean that’s one of the oldest tricks in the book, being fooled by “the pictures” on the internet. This might have been the perfect place to stay, for me and a bunch of my friends, fresh out of school or in my travelling days, sometimes imperfections can add to a travel experience. In this case? Not so…
Apart from making a great blog post, this ‘holiday rental’ made my skin crawl, and I didn’t last five minutes inside. I was on high alert and not wanting to risk spending the night, surrounded by bushes in this ‘hidden gem’.
Awaiting us in picturesque Margaret River, was a warm crackling fire and some homemade muffins. “e checked for credentials this time), if Goldilocks was reviewing this accommodation, she’d say it was “juuust right.”
Quickly checking in, we took a “2 minute stroll” (as promised on the website), into town and ate our first meal at the Italian Trattoria, La Scarpetta. I ordered a basic spaghetti in tomato sauce, (I’d had enough excitement for one day!)
After a restful sleep, we were treated to homemade musli, (delish!) and a warm, and comforting cooked breakfast. Following a cruisy morning, we jumped in the car and meandered in and around the beautiful tree lined roads, stopping off occasionally for a taste of chocolate, olive oil and some delicious spreads (both sweet and savoury).
In the afternoon, there were fresh baked goods layed out in the lounge area of the guest house, (near the crackling fire) – one of which I ate before the kettle could finish boiling! Mmmm.
Dinner again! This time at Arc of Iris at the end of the road, which I have previously described as an eclectic haven, (see my post on delicious reasons to visit the South West).
The next three days followed much the same format and by the last day, I couldn’t fit my breakfast in! We had not gone unfed!
Debbie and Peter Noonan’s hospitality was wonderful and we are thankful to have stumbled across this home away from home.
There’s been afternoons since our stay that I’ve craved some of Debbie’s delicately prepared, freshly baked vanilla butterfly cakes. But alas, a ghostly plate sits empty on my bench top. It’s simply a memory, a delicious memory and it’s time for me to set my oven to temperature and crank up the Kitchen Aid.