The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
LOST AND FOUND
Denied the dance floors of Ibiza, Ash Bhardwaj rediscovers the joys of human contact in Somerset and Oxfordshire
If anyone ever asks about my eight weeks at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, I tell them: “I learnt to tolerate discomfort.” The discomfort of fatigue; the discomfort of being wet; of being hungry; running in circles; crawling through nettles; and polishing my boots.
I never really enjoyed these tasks, nor became particularly good at them, but I learnt to do them without complaint because I had no other option. I had chosen to attend Sandhurst and discomfort was part of the deal.
A similar thing happened with travel during Covid: no one enjoy changing their plans when a destination moved lists, but we learnt to tolerate it. Uncertainty became part of the deal.
An example: when the dance floors of Ibiza were closed by its government, and the island’s travel status from Britain looked risky, I accepted the discomfort and found an alternative closer to home. Marston Park (marstonpark.co. uk), just outside Frome, is a creative retreat in the Somerset countryside. It is the brainchild of Charlie Bonham Christie (who owns the land) and Michael Fenna (a DJ and music producer). After a short trial last summer, they have been running events throughout this year, including a collaboration with Pikes Ibiza.
“We wanted to create an inspirational place,” Michael said, “where people would come and make fabulous things… rather than just talk about how fabulous they are. We’ve had directors staying here to finish film edits, authors writing drafts of their novels and painters teaching guests in between doing their own work.”
The accommodation is in bell tents along one side of a lake, and they are filled with easels, crayons, oil paints and guitars, in case visitors forget their own creative tools, or want to dabble with new ones.
On the other side of the lake is “the Terrace”, a large, open-sided tent that catches the evening sun, and has a bar, food truck and dance floor.
“This might be my favourite place that I’ve ever stayed,” said my wife. “I’ve never found England so relaxing before, and this feels very far away from anywhere else. But, mostly, I just love being around people again.”
The clientele was a mix of guests staying in the bell tents and locals who were “members” of Marston Park. It was easy to strike up conversation, and
I learnt about the challenges of producing a catchy dance tune, the intricacies of Frome’s tarmacking industry and the challenges of multi-crop rotations in Wiltshire.
Just after we left Marston Park, the final restrictions were lifted, and we celebrated by going to Wilderness (wildernessfestival.com). I scoured the programme to craft an itinerary of novelty, stimulation and creativity, which started with morning yoga and wild swimming, progressed to poetry readings and art classes, and finished with bands and DJs.
The plan was scrapped when I walked into the arena and spotted a live band playing in a bar. I have no idea who they were, and I could barely tell you what instruments they had, but I was overwhelmed with the joy of dancing in public and jumped straight onto the dance floor with a huge grin on my face.
For the next two days I revelled in serendipity, from dragging someone wearing flip-flops up a muddy hill, to bumping into friends that I hadn’t known were there. I tried to add some culture to my life by watching a talk about Jack Kerouac, but I was more interested in behaving like the Beat writer than hearing about him.
Sandhurst taught me that discomfort always, eventually, ends. And when it does, small pleasures taste all the sweeter.
‘This might be my favourite place,’ said my wife. ‘I’ve never found England so relaxing’