3 weeks ago
12
September 16, 2025 — 5:00am
Anyone who has seen the 1987 British movie Withnail and I will know that sometimes getaways to the country come with unpleasant surprises.
In Bruce Robinson’s eccentrically brilliant comedy set in 1969, a pair of out of work actors, Withnail (Richard E Grant) and “I” (Marwood, played by Paul McGann,) leave their grim London flat for a stay at the cosy cottage owned by Withnail’s portly Uncle Monty (Richard Griffiths.)
Withnail is a barely functioning alcoholic and Marwood is so stressed about his dismal career that he’s a nervous wreck. It doesn’t stop raining, there’s nothing to eat in the remote cottage, and the two become paranoid that they’re being stalked by the local poacher.
When Uncle Monty suddenly turns up and develops a romantic obsession with a freaked-out Marwood, the weekend becomes a true nightmare.
“We’ve gone on holiday by mistake,” Withnail concludes.
It’s hilariously funny and ranks in my top five films of all-time, and I also think of it every time I find myself taking a short break in the country.
Luckily, my friends with country houses bear no resemblance to Uncle Monty. There’s always lots of food, with everyone pitching in, blazing fires in winter, and plenty of opportunities to lie around reading a book.
That’s my idea of a perfect getaway because it gets me away from the routine of home, which is comforting in its own way, but in need of a shake-up every now and again.
Even if just for a weekend, an “escape” to the country, mountains or beach is meant to be exactly that – a rest, a refresh or a social occasion you need to go away from home to experience. It’s a kind of jailbreak.
We’ve only had the concept of the “weekend” since the late 19th century, after the industrial revolution when the middle classes emerged. By the 1890s some skilled workers had half days on Saturdays and Sunday off, leading to the birth of the weekend.
“What is a weekend?” the dowager Countess of Grantham memorably asks in Downton Abbey.
The idea of the weekend has changed over the past decades. In most cities, we can now shop all day on Saturdays and Sundays.
With so many people working from home, there’s also more flexibility around what days we take off.
The ease of flying between capital cities means modern holidaymakers can travel a thousand kilometres or more for a short break. Beyond visiting family, people travel intercity for sporting events like football finals and marathons, art exhibitions, food festivals and acclaimed restaurants.
The trick is to weigh up your enthusiasm for getting away with the hassle of actually doing it. If you’re going to spend a good portion of the short holiday in a car or airport, it might not be worth it.
Then again, one magical exhibition or victorious game might be worth every tedious hour spent getting there.
My advice is always to go because you never know if you’ll have the chance again. Whenever I make the effort to pack a small travelling bag, I never regret it.
For me, the country house getaway is the absolute pinnacle – burning fireplaces, squishy sofas, teapots and the butter from crumpets staining my books.
It’s a complete luxury for me to have a whole two days to immerse myself in a crime novel, my guilty pleasure. (If you’re visiting the Southern Highlands outside Sydney, Joan Sauers writes some cracking mystery novels set there.)
If I can’t visit friends, I’m looking for an inn, farm, lodge or small guest house that can replicate this experience. A true B&B, not Airbnb.
Perhaps it goes back to my childhood when short holidays were spent at a guest house on Philip Island. It was always windy and freezing, but there were cosy fires and apple custard.
It’s not just about the fireplace. Hosts who treat guests as warmly as friends are integral to the experience. Quite often you hear about the best by word of mouth. They might not have the ritziest decor, but they have soul.
Airbnb began with the concept that hosts would invite guests into their own homes and look after them. Now that the platform is used as a money-making machine for property investors, we need those old-fashioned B&Bs even more.
I’d even tolerate Uncle Monty.
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