"Here I stayed at Mrs Keanley's, an elderly lady who ran a sort of hostel in a large farmhouse built by her late husband back in 1920 and had hardly changed since. There was no running water or electricity just oil lamps and a big log fire and a wind up gramophone with a large pile of old 78's.
On the farm she also kept horses and the next day I was able to go for a short ride with her servant and guide who also doubled as cook, though not a very good one, so like most of the other guests I was glad to buy some food at the nearby village store and cook my own.
I had enjoyed staying at the farm, sitting round the fire in the evenings talking and listening to the stories of the other travellers." - MH