The Analogue Hour: Seven UK Bedrooms Where the Evening Unfolds at 33 RPM
The first ten minutes are the test. You walk in, clock the absence of a wall-mounted TV, and feel a small panicked twitch. Then you see the record player. The books. The box of Scrabble with a rubber band around it. The evening reorganises itself. This is not about being smugly anti-screen; it is about a room that gives you something to do together that is not scrolling. Here are seven UK rooms — some pub, some country house, some bolthole — where the analogue kit is the point, not an afterthought.
1. The Barntop at The Salt House, North Norfolk
A converted maltings, all chalky walls and low beams. In the bedroom: a Rega Planar 1 turntable and a milk crate of LPs that leans heavily on Nick Drake, Joan Armatrading and a surprising amount of Fleetwood Mac. The bookshelf is strong on Norfolk nature writing — Roger Deakin, Richard Mabey — plus a well-thumbed paperback of The Rings of Power. A decanter of sloe gin sits on the chest of drawers. No TV. Wi-Fi is present but sulky. Works beautifully if you are the sort who can spend forty minutes arguing about the B-side of Rumours. Less good if you need to watch the match; the nearest pub with a screen is a fifteen-minute drive.
2. Room 4 at The Black Dog, Peak District
A proper pub-with-rooms: low doorways, horse brasses, a landlady who leaves a torch on the landing. The room has a Pro-Ject turntable and a shelf of vinyl curated by the landlord's brother — mostly blues and Americana, with a few wildcards (Kate Bush, The The). Books are a mix of walking guides, cricket memoirs and a solitary Jeffrey Archer. Board games: Scrabble (missing one tile, naturally), a deck of cards, and a jigsaw of Chatsworth House with three pieces chewed by a dog. The trade-off: the pub below is louder than any television, and the Wi-Fi does not reach the room. You will sleep well. You will not stream anything.
3. The Library Suite at Ashcombe House, Cotswolds
This is the posh version. A country-house bedroom with a wall of books that looks inherited rather than styled — old hardbacks, a few Penguin classics, a complete set of Trollope. The record player is a vintage Linn Sondek, and the vinyl is jazz and chamber music. There is a decanter of whisky and a note suggesting you take a glass to the window seat. No TV, but there is a Roberts radio tuned to Radio 3. Honest note: the books are too nice to actually read in bed, and the jazz collection is not for everyone. If you secretly want to watch a film, this is not the room. If you want to feel like a character in a novel for one night, it is.
4. The Snug at Ty Cwtch, Pembrokeshire
A bolthole for two, attached to a farmhouse. The record player is a portable Crosley in cream, the vinyl is a small but thoughtful selection — Welsh male voice choirs, Gruff Rhys, and a single Amy Winehouse album. The bookshelf is mostly local-interest paperbacks and a copy of Under Milk Wood. There is a wood-burner, a blanket and a flask of sloe gin. No Wi-Fi, no TV, no phone signal unless you stand on one leg by the window. This is the one that most sharply divides people: some will have the best evening of the year; others will last two hours before driving to Tenby for a pub with Sky Sports.
5. The Garden Room at The Merchant's Table, Suffolk
A hotel room above a restaurant, with a record player and a shelf of cookbooks — Nigella, Diana Henry, a few River Cottage titles. The vinyl is soul and funk, chosen to match the restaurant's playlist. There is a small selection of paperbacks, mostly food writing and a few thrillers left by guests. No TV. The trade-off is that you can hear the kitchen winding down below, which is oddly soothing. Wi-Fi is good, so you can stream if you must — but the point is to open a bottle, put on the record and read a cookbook like a novel.
6. The Turret Room at Castle Keep, Scottish Borders
A quirky bolthole in a converted tower. The record player is a vintage Dansette-style suitcase player, and the vinyl is a strange mix: Scottish folk, Bowie and a spoken-word LP of Robert Burns. The bookshelf is heavy on history and ghost stories. There is a decanter of malt and two cut-glass tumblers. No TV. The Wi-Fi is patchy, which is part of the deal. This is the room for a stormy night, when the wind does the entertaining and the record player provides the soundtrack. If you need to check emails, do it in the bar downstairs.
7. The Print Room at The Old Rectory, Somerset
A country-house B&B with a record player in every room. This one has a Rega and a shelf of vinyl that runs from Ella Fitzgerald to Elbow. The bookshelf is a proper lending library — take one, leave one — with a good run of Persephone Books and a few tatty thrillers. No TV, but there is a box of board games and a decanter of sherry. The honest caveat: the record collection is shared between rooms, so you may have to negotiate. And if you are not a vinyl person, the ritual can feel like homework.
When analogue works — and when it does not
The best low-tech rooms are not anti-technology; they are pro-activity. They give you something to do with your hands, a reason to stay in, and a conversation starter that is not 'what shall we watch?'. They work when the record collection has been chosen with care, the bookshelf has a few things you would actually read, and the room has enough light to read by. They fail when the vinyl is a single James Blunt album, the books are all Dan Brown, and the Wi-Fi is so bad you cannot even check the weather. The trick is to ask before you book: is there a TV? Is there Wi-Fi? What is on the shelf? A good hotel will tell you. A great one will send you a photo.
The point is not to be smug about screens. It is to give yourself an evening that feels different. Bring a paperback you have been meaning to read, a bottle of something, and a willingness to let the record run out and flip it over. That is the whole entertainment. And if you hate it, there is always the pub.
