Behind every antique, every restored piece of furniture and every thoughtfully chosen detail at Black Mountain Escapes is a simple philosophy: beautiful places should be lived in, not merely admired.

This is the story behind that philosophy, and the timeless values that continue to shape every cottage we create.

People often ask why I’ve always been drawn to old things.

Why our cottages aren’t filled with the latest trends. Why I choose solid furniture over flat-pack alternatives, vintage pieces over modern replicas, and why I spend so much time searching for beautiful objects that many people would simply overlook.

The truth is, I’ve always felt an inexplicable pull towards the 1920s and 1930s. It’s difficult to explain because, of course, I never lived through those decades. I know life wasn’t easier. For many people it was incredibly hard, with economic uncertainty, social inequality and the shadow of war looming over Europe.

I would never romanticise the hardships people endured. Yet there is something about that era that captures my imagination.

Perhaps it’s the craftsmanship.

Furniture was made by skilled hands, built not for a season but for generations. Buildings were designed with pride and permanence in mind. Even everyday household items carried a sense of beauty and purpose.

There was an understanding that if something was worth making, it was worth making properly.

That philosophy resonates deeply with me.

I believe we have lost something in today’s disposable world. We replace rather than repair, consume rather than treasure, and often value convenience over quality. There is something quietly reassuring about holding an object that has already lived a life, knowing it was made well enough to still be useful decades later.

But it’s more than beautiful things.

I find myself drawn to what I imagine were the values of that time. Courtesy. Pride in one’s work. Hospitality that came naturally. Taking time to do things properly rather than simply getting them done.

Perhaps what I really admire isn’t the era itself,
but the principles it represents.

A place where guests can slow down, breathe deeply, and perhaps reconnect with a simpler way of living—even if only for a weekend.

I think that is what nostalgia really is. Not wishing we could live in another era, but recognising that every generation leaves behind something worth keeping.

If our cottages encourage even one guest to put down their phone, sit in the garden with a cup of tea, listen to the birds, admire the craftsmanship around them, and simply enjoy the moment, then perhaps we’ve managed to bring a little of those enduring values into the present.

And to me, that’s something worth preserving.