19 June 2013
We've settled into our room at the Shakespeare Hotel - THIS is the kind of room I was meant to stay in. What can I say - I don't necessarily need posh, although posh is lovely. I do, however, need pretty. And clean. And comfortable. But pretty is way up on my list!
Turns out the hotel and pub were built in 1879 - so my "1880-ish" was, to use a British or Aussie phrase, spot on.
rooms were recently renovated to look something like they might have in
1880-ish - and each room is different and unique. Here's the link, if
you want to see more about the hotel, pub, menu, etc.: http://www.shakespearehotel.com.au
Yes, we have a chaise in our room. Our own private chaise. Or fainting couch, as it may have been known. But since I have never fainted in my life, I think it'll just be a chaise.
And here are photos of our room, the coffee or tea center outside in the hall, the lounge down a flight of stairs. (I brought the orchids I had purchased to try and brighten up our other place - the dirty dusty grubby room painted in taupe, with a beige ceiling, and black sheets, and taupe blanket. You can see why the rose, brass, crystal, and black have totally cheered me up!)
place is full of character. As well as characters. All it needs is a library full of books, and a blazing fire to chase away the chill of winter. And maybe a cat or two to curl up next to us while we read. On the chaise. Drinking tea. The place has that kind of feel - Merrie Olde Englande in the colonies, something like an inn or old manor house. Lovely and comfortable. With a few dead animal heads on the walls, between gilt-framed mirrors and faded paintings of someone's relatives and the occasional Italianate painting of pink and white people and cherubs.
It's still in
Surry Hills, but closer to the library (for free internet), Messina's
gelato (which several people have told us is the best gelato in Sydney),
and is only a few blocks from the Central Station where we catch trains
and trams to the city center and beaches and beyond.
I have to say it is so nice to be somewhere clean and normal. And pretty. With a warm, inviting ambience.
- I tried to find a Shakespearean sonnet or soliloquy that applied to
finding one's room (beyond "A Room of One's Own") - but nothing fit.
So I will close with quotation that seems apt, short though it be. (I told you, Shakespearean language is contagious!)
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
The Tempest (4.1.168-170)