Earlier this summer I was lucky enough to get away with some girlfriends to another friend’s lovely cottage tucked away behind two other cottages on a tiny side street in a little neighborhood in Newport, RI.
At two blocks in from the harbor we were just a block from the main road’s restaurants, shops and boutiques, but once we turned onto the alley and were ensconced in our little patio we were worlds away from the noise of the street and tourists.
The cottage was beautiful but comfortable, with cozy rooms tucked under eaves and stairs, a huge sunroom, and original art on every wall.
We lazed on the beach and walked the Cliff Walk and lounged in Adirondack chairs. Ate fish and chips on the edge of the harbor. Bought and sold extravagant yachts and stately mansions and charming cottages with our imaginary riches.
We drank a lot of wine and dark ‘n’ stormies. We slept in and ate late breakfasts and lingered long over coffee.
We did a lot of window shopping, and bought delicious fudge. We found the most amazing little natural food store.
There was a lot of walking, and talking, and not talking. Ridiculous laughing. A little crying. More wine.
We decided we all need more friends with cottages to loan.