Vintage digs to die for

Justine Costigan finds everything for a lovely break except a murder mystery.

I'm a secret fan of BBC costume dramas and upper-class murder mysteries, so rambling Palmers Hill in Balnarring struck me as the kind of place where well-bred English folk have a country weekend. You know, a house where guests with beautifully rounded vowels inconveniently start dropping off the perch - perhaps a knife in nanny's chest or a drop of arsenic in Lady Mountjoy's morning tea. A house so beautifully ramshackle, with lots of convenient nooks and crannies, that plots and jealousies might fester while everyone maintains the polite social facade. I am hooked from the moment I see it.

Approached by a small, circular drive ringed with agapanthus, Palmers Hill was built in 1925 and has the generous, light-filled rooms, polished floorboards and architectural detail of the era. Up a few steps to the entry, a large foyer has a staircase to the upstairs bedrooms, bathroom and deck. Past the entry, there's a corridor to another two sleeping wings and doors opening to a large, country-style kitchen with all the mod cons (two dishwashers, an ice-making fridge, enough appliances to stock a homeware store) and one of two large lounge areas with a flat-screen TV, three large sofas and picture windows looking out to the terrace, lawn and swimming pool.

All the rooms are comfortably and stylishly decorated without being showy or new, which means having children to stay is relaxing, rather than nerve-racking. Loads of books, movie DVDs, old magazines and games show the owners understand how to relax at the weekend.

We are five families of old friends, with nine adults and seven children, and our principal goal is to swim, eat, drink and rest. We are blessed by a hot weekend and blue skies. With a pool at our disposal, a rhythm was set for the weekend - swim, sunbake, eat and nap. Then repeat. A beautiful view of Balnarring beach and a private track down to it might have been tempting if the pool hadn't completely seduced us. In winter, the living room's large open fireplace would probably have the same effect.

Balnarring is a quiet spot, even at the height of the summer, so a peaceful stay is a given. I may have been hoping for some Agatha Christie-style excitement, but I can faithfully report no one drowns, our food is free of poison and the sharp knives stay in their proper place.

I stayed away from the TV for most of the weekend. Something tells me I may have been watching a little too much lately.

And then we ate Way too much. Every adult a great cook, we treat ourselves to a huge pot of mussels with crusty bread for one lunch and boned and butterflied whole chickens barbecued to smoky perfection for dinner. Crunchy spanakopita with Greek salad is perfect for a 35-degree day; and French cheese and dark chocolate for a Woody Allen movie night; icy poles and mangoes to cool off; and local wine the drink of choice. Balnarring shops offer great local produce, and there's no shortage of nearby cellar doors for expert help with wine purchases. In summer, strawberry picking at nearby Main Ridge would surely be a tempting excursion.

Stepping out Completely unnecessary. Even the short 50 metres on a private pathway to the beach feels like a chore. Yes, very nice, thank you, but if you don't mind I'll just get back to the pool.