If someone asked me what heaven looks like, I would describe a place where I am surrounded by books, and have all the time in the world to read them. Here, I would curl up somewhere quiet and comfortable, and get lost in a story without distractions or interruptions. There would be no to-do list to be done, and not a responsibility in sight. Crucially, there would also be copious food – refreshments on tap, say, and delicious, multiple-course dinners paired with both wine and book chat.
So when I find myself on a reading retreat in Derbyshire and this is exactly what is playing out in real life, it is perhaps no wonder that I spend half the time in utter disbelief that I am in fact still alive and kicking, and no, I have not died and gone to heaven.
The brains behind this book lover’s nirvana is Cressida Downing, a former bookseller and freelance editor, and Sara Noël, a photographer and cook. Since 2017, the Cambridgeshire-based friends have been running reading retreats in various picturesque locations across the UK, from a beach-front home in Suffolk to the gorgeous Georgian townhouse where I am staying in Matlock.
The idea for the retreats came when Downing, a mother of teenagers and lifelong booklover, needed a few days off. “My husband suggested a spa weekend, and I thought no, I want a book weekend,” she says. So she went to Gladstone Library, a “library with rooms” in North Wales, with thirteen books in tow. “Taking myself off this reading retreat was lovely, and when I got back I realised it might be something other people might like to do as well.”
Much like Downing, my love for books is constantly challenged by the demands of everyday life. There is never enough time, and there is always something else calling for my attention – a phone notification, for example, or a dishwasher to be stacked. So my reading comes in snatches; most commonly before bed, where it enters into a tug of war battle with tired eyes. Meanwhile, unread books that I can’t help but acquire continue to pile up around my flat. There’s a certain jenga-like tower that I daren’t look at for fear of it toppling over.
So, coming across Downing and Noël’s reading retreats feels like striking literary gold.
Following a day in the office in London, my experience begins as all those do when you need to be somewhere at a certain time: with a delayed, then cancelled train. One rail replacement bus journey and a lot of stress later, I turn up in Matlock two hours late, and worn to the end of my tether.
Stepping inside the wooden-beamed house, however, is like entering a gloriously calming bubble. Noël and Downing welcome me warmly and I freshen up before a bell rings, signalling it’s time for dinner. Four other guests and I sit at a mahogany dining table and are served a feast cooked by Noël: honey-baked feta with pittas, a hearty tagine with couscous, and espresso martini panna cotta for dessert.
As we eat, we discuss what we’ll be reading over the three nights and two days that follow. Downing offers reading prescriptions, where she recommends books based on your answers to a series of questions. “People ask me for all sorts, like books to help them through the grieving process,” she says. “Or they get really specific: I once had someone ask for books about wronged women getting the upper hand. That was a fun one to do.”
I personally want to read a long book – something that would usually feel too intimidating to try and fit into my life otherwise – so I sink into Barbara Kingsolver’s 600-page Demon Copperhead, a modern retelling of Charles Dickens’s David Copperfield.
Part of me had worried that there might be pressure around how much reading you get done, but Downing and Noël quickly nip this in the bud. “We need to remove the word ‘should’ from our vocabulary,” Downing says. “No ‘I should read this or that’, or ‘I should get through a certain number of books’. Reading is about enjoyment.”
“On our retreats, we do get some people getting through a big stack of books,” adds Noël, “but equally we’ve had some just come and leaf through old magazines they’ve been meaning to read, and others just read a few chapters a book and nap the rest of the time.”
Ahead of the retreat, I’m asked a few times whether I might get bored of just sitting around reading. Aside from the fact that this always sounded rather appealing to me, the answer is no. Time spent in the reading room (the home’s lounge, which has become a dedicated quiet space complete with reading lights) is punctuated by walks around the local area, guided by Downing, as well as conversations in the kitchen where there is always someone to chat to over a cup of tea.
Food is a big ingredient. No sooner have you recovered from breakfast (eggs, bacon, avocados, granolas, porridges), lunch is served, then afternoon tea, then dinner (including one evening where an author joins; we have Sarah Ward talking to us about her crime novels and reading habits). You can also get a tray of snacks at your request.
“For me, food and cooking for people is an expression of love,” says Noël. “I am very much a feeder, but it is also about wanting everything to be taken care of for our readers.” This means there is even a strict “don’t touch the kettle” rule – only because they will do it for you. “We just want to look after people.”
They get a “huge mix” of guests – from 19-year-olds to 89-year-olds – joining for a variety of reasons, but more often than not they arrive overworked, overtired, or overwhelmed. “We provide a bit of a refuge for people who just need a break,” says Downing.
This is true for me. While I expected to enjoy the reading, I hadn’t anticipated how restorative the retreat element would be. Noël and Downing provide a device-watching service, keeping an eye on your calls and texts for you, but I go the whole hog and switch my phone off. I’m a millennial, so this is revolutionary. Aside from when it runs out of battery, it remains on, and next to me, 24 hours a day.
At first, the lack of phone makes me feel itchy. Not only because I can’t mindlessly scroll through social media and news apps, which by now we know are designed to be addictive. Having my phone turned off also makes me worry: what if there’s an emergency, work or otherwise? What if someone needs me?
But having forewarned the relevant people in my life – and given them Downing and Noël’s numbers, in case they do need to get hold of me – I slowly start to let go. With no watch, I even become accustomed to my sense of time coming from the church bells that ring outside (which almost sounds too romantic to be true). By the end, I feel more relaxed and rested than I have ever done – including after a two week holiday.
“People’s shoulders do tend to drop half a foot over the course of a few days,” says Downing. “You can almost see their jaws unclenching.”
“They often want to hug us on the last morning,” adds Noël . In fact, many book on to their next retreat before they’ve even left – about 60 per cent of guests in total are returners. When it is this good for the soul, I know I’m going to be one of them.
readingretreat.co.uk