Afternoon Tea at Gamble Cottage

A week or two ago I stumbled upon the Watchman House while riding my bike, and there I partook of a sumptuous morning tea provided by the good band of National Trust volunteers who take care of the House. 

While I was there they lamented that morning tea was no longer provided weekly: indeed, the Watchman House morning tea was only monthly, balanced out by afternoon tea at Gamble Cottage to ensure no more than 2 weeks go between repasts 

"Where's Gamble Cottage?" I asked, my spidey senses detecting the possibility of another feast even if, like last time, it would come at the additional price of a bottle of guilty marmalade. In no time at all I had a pamphlet all about Gamble Cottage and a timetable for all afternoon tea related activities. I went home and put the afternoon tea date in my diary, regaling Roger with tales of scones, jam, cream, and the best home baked cheese biscuits ever. The earth turned as expected, the third Sunday of the month arrived, and off we went to Gamble Cottage.

Gamble Cottage sat at the top (almost) of the Coromandel Valley and was so close that I could have ridden my bicycle to afternoon tea were it not that I would then have to ride my bicycle back up the hill to get home and I would be weighted down by all the afternoon tea that I planned to have on board. So we drove.

Gamble Cottage had a beautiful garden, diligently tended by volunteers and brimming with springtime flowers. Even the weather had gotten into the spirit of things: the sun was bright and warm, the wind was modest, and the air was heavy with the scent of jasmine, wisteria, and wattle blossom. So nice was the garden in fact that we looked at both it and the cottage before afternoon tea, which showed remarkable restraint on both our behalves. 

Built in 1902, Gamble Cottage was the home of Mr Gamble and their 4 daughters, with two spinster daughters continuing to live in the house until they donated it and the land to The Community on their relocation to aged care. The Community was deemed to be the local council who happily took delivery of the substantial parcel of prime Coromandel Valley real estate and called for a bulldozer to commence demolition lickety split. Thankfully the bulldozer started with the garden and while doing so was spied by a local National Trust member who initiated a flurry of activity resulting, after several months of wrangling, in the National Trust leasing the property on the proviso of refurbishment and community involvement. The outcome of all this was that the garden was replanted as close to its original cottage state as possible and people like us could come to have a look and eat tea and scones on the verandah once a month.

Behind the cottage the garden continues.

The cottage itself was full of a mish mash of memoriabilia, not all of which related to the family Gamble. There was a ceramic statue of the Belair signal box dog, a border collie who accompanied his owner to the signal box every day and barked an "all clear" to the trains and a brief nod to the historic jam and biscuit factory which was at one stage a major employer in the Coromandel Valley and whose remnants are now a private house.

"I like this weather! I want more of it!"

We had the verandah to ourselves, and a lovely volunteer served us scones with jam and cream.

We sat and enjoyed our scones, which while very nice were definitely not enough to induce any guilty marmalade purchases while watching other people wander through the garden and take lots of photos. To be honest, the garden was losing its spring vibe and moving firmly to summer with leaves rapidly replacing blossoms on the branches, and there were no home made cheese biscuits which was a big disappointment.

The cottage garden, last petals on the rose.

Having made the most of both the garden and the scones, we went home to open all the windows and doors to let the warm air in and flush out winter, and now the whole house smells of jasmine.

The scent of summer.