THE CABIN AT TALLISTON | Quirky Stays 04

A Canadian wilderness cabin tucked inside a suburban Essex home – Talliston was a wildly quirky stay that offered full immersion in fantasy, solitude, and storytelling. Part of my Quirky Stays series; gently different adventures, shaped by curiosity and the joy of stepping into someone else’s imagination.

Welcome back to my Quirky Stay series, where I seek out strange, magical, and utterly unforgettable places to stay – one slightly eccentric overnight at a time. So far, I’ve stayed in a truffle shaped cabin in the woods, a caravan perched high on a rooftop, and a modulog cabin overlooking the Cambrian mountains. This one? Well, this one rewrites the rulebook.

Tucked away in Great Dunmow, Essex, The Cabin at Talliston House & Gardens is part of a TV-famous bed and breakfast that defies description. I booked the rustic log cabin, but with no other guests on site, I was handed the keys to the entire house; a surreal, other-worldly labyrinth of themed rooms and handcrafted detail.

I’ve said it before, but this time I mean it: nothing will ever top this for quirkiness. Ever. When my host left me to it having given me a quick tour, I stood frozen in the living room (sorry,Mead Hall), completely overwhelmed by the sheer scale of imagination around me. This blog will be my best attempt to capture the magic of it all. But I already know I have failed at that.

This one wasn’t meant to be a Quirky Stay. I mean, in all other cases, the whole point of going away was to partake one of the mini adventures that has become this series of short breaks away. They are a purpose in their own right. But this time, I decided to turn a trip I was already taking into something a little more unusual.

Quirky Stays 04 | The Cabin at Talliston

I was heading to Essex for a friend’s surprise birthday party. The perfect excuse to skip the Premier Inn and find something with more soul – and, ideally, a lot more weirdness. I wasn’t chasing a nature escape this time, but I was open to something different. And when Talliston House & Gardens popped up in my search, resistance was futile.

Talliston is tucked away in the unassuming town of Great Dunmow, Essex. From the street, it’s a perfectly ordinary semi-detached home. But step inside, and you’re not in Essex anymore. You’re in a labyrinth of time and place, each room a portal to a different world, era, and story. Created by author and designer John Tarrow, Talliston was a 25-year labour of love: transforming a blank suburban shell into what’s been coined ‘Britain’s Most Extraordinary Home’. It even ended up on Channel 4’s Shed of the Year in 2016.

But these aren’t themed rooms in the usual sense. They’re immersive, historically accurate recreations – each one a fully realised setting, from the bathroom in a Lightkeeper’s House (1986) to a bedroom in the Alhambra, Spain (1977). Every object is curated, every detail deliberate. It’s not just décor – it’s world-building.

And The Cabin? It might not look like a woodland retreat from the outside, but the moment I stepped through the door, I was deep in the Canadian wilderness. Wooden walls, flickering lanterns, a crackling (electric) fire – every inch whispered log cabin fantasy. It was like I was on a film set, or in a dream. The illusion was so complete, I half expected a lumberjack to walk in and offer me a mug of something steaming. This wasn’t just quirky. It was ridiculous. In the best possible way.

Watch the Video…

I’ll be honest: trying to capture Talliston on camera felt a bit like filming a dream with a phone torch. There’s just no way to do it justice. The scale, the detail, the sheer quirkiness of it all… it’s something you have to feel, not just see.

But I gave it a go! This short video is packed with glimpses of the creator’s wild imagination, and I probably say ‘quirky’ at least a hundred times, because what else can you say when you’re wandering through a Mead Hall in 1887 one minute and Scottish Tower House in 1911 the next? If you’re curious, confused, or just craving something completely bonkers for 20 minutes, please give it a watch.

And, you know, don’t forget to like and subscribe and all that good stuff!

Into the Wilderness: The Cabin at Talliston

This was the space I booked. My little slice of the Canadian wilderness, tucked inside a suburban Essex home. And I mean that quite literally, because stepping into The Cabin at Talliston felt like stepping through a portal. Not a themed room. Not a rustic nod. A full-bodied, multi-sensory leap into another world.

The era? Somewhere deep in the mid 20th century – well, Friday 9 April 1948, at 1.07pm, to be precise. The place? Hunting grounds in the forested wilderness of Kingsmere Lake, Saskatchewan. The scent? Pine needles and woodsmoke, thanks to carefully placed scent bags tucked into corners. The soundtrack? A crackling radio playing period-appropriate wilderness tunes, setting the tone from the moment I arrived. It didn’t just look like a cabin – it felt like one. Smelt like one. Sounded like one. I don’t think I’d have been surprised if a bear had wandered past the window.

Every surface was dressed with intention. Shelves were crammed with the right kind of books—weathered, practical, survivalist. Sepia-toned photographs, antique ornaments, and wilderness maps added layers of story. Ice skates and snowshoes leaned casually by the door. Animal skins and large heavy rugs softened the edges. Laundry hung from the ceiling rafters. It was cluttered, yes – but curated clutter. Nothing was random. Everything was placed just so.

Cosy Corners and Lofted Dreams

The Cabin was small, snug, and utterly charming. A couple of comfy chairs sat beside a period heater at one end of the room, offering somewhere comfortable to sit. At the other was a small dining table and chairs, which gave the illusion of a life lived here – meals cooked, stories shared. And everywhere between, there was something to take in. A detail. A texture. A tiny piece of someone’s imagined life.

My bed was tucked up in a small loft space; a mezzanine floor in the log-lined pitched roof, accessed by a sturdy ladder that felt safe and solid. Up there, overlooking the cabin below, was a surprisingly spacious nook with soft bedding and a real sense of retreat. It was warm, cocooned, and deeply comfortable. I slept like a log in a log cabin. Quite literally.

The cabin had electricity, though it was cleverly disguised. Low lighting kept the atmosphere intact, and a couple of hidden plug sockets allowed for charging essentials. That said, I couldn’t bring myself to leave much out, it just looked offensively modern against the backdrop of snowshoes and sepia photos. I mean, even my water bottle looked completely out of place. So, I tucked my bag and clothing away in the cupboard at the back of the space to preserve the illusion. It felt wrong to let reality intrude.

Immersion vs. Cleanliness

The attention to detail was, as I’ve said, quite ridiculous. John explained that the interior of The Cabin at Talliston was built as it would have been in Canada; for example, the floor was laid without the use of nails, so the thick planks didn’t crack with the changing temperatures. Now this isn’t a necessary consideration in the English countryside, but it gave the whole thing a very uneven and creaky quality. I mean, it was one of the things that meant when I was inside The Cabin with the door shut, I was fully immersed in the labyrinth world that had been created.

Now, I’ll admit, Talliston’s obsessive attention to detail comes with a trade-off. Cleanliness in The Cabin wasn’t top-tier. Not grimy, not unpleasant, but definitely dusty. There’s just so much stuff, and so many nooks and crannies, that a full deep clean would probably take a week. It didn’t ruin the experience (the bedding, blankets, etc were all as you’d hope), but it did make me glad I’d brought my slippers!

A House of a Hundred Worlds

Exploring the rest of Talliston House & Gardens, which I made sure to do as thoroughly as I could, was like stepping into a living museum curated by a time-travelling eccentric with impeccable taste and zero restraint. There really aren’t any better words than the one I used to name this whole series – quirky, to the extreme.

Every room is a sensory ambush. You open a door and suddenly you’re in a haunted bedroom in Stonehaven, Scotland in 1911, or a Japanese Star House in 2282 (yes, this house means you time travel forwards as well into the past). It’s overwhelming in the best way. Your eyes don’t know where to land. Your brain doesn’t know what era it’s in. And your nose? It’s picking up pine, incense, old books, and something vaguely nautical depending on which room you’re in.

The Mead Hall lounge was a particular highlight. Called ‘The Watchtower’, this is taken straight out of Snowdonia in 1887, and once I had made it out of the hallway (The Hall of Mirrors, Italy, 1992…), it was my first real sense of what Talliston was all about. Big, comfortable sofas nestled beneath timber beams and medieval banners – it was the perfect spot to flop and recalibrate after wandering through so many worlds. I spent a good chunk of time in the Mead Hall, just letting the house settle around me.

Smaller Spaces

The small first floor study was precisely what you’d imagine an office in 1929 New York would look and feel like. I could definitely see myself in there. It had that smoky, bookish charm; typewriter vibes, the kind of place where you imagine writing something important while sipping something strong. I didn’t, of course. But I could have.

Then there was the Cambodian Spirit House in the loft. Yes, in the loft. Yes, up a rope ladder. Was it wise to climb up there alone, in a house full of themed distractions and no one else around? Probably not. Did I do it anyway? Of course I did. And it was unbelievable. Ornate carvings, soft lighting, sacred energy – it felt like a secret tucked into the rafters. Getting back down was a bit of a challenge (I’ve never been graceful), but I made it without injury or spiritual disarray.

The Bathroom: A Nautical Detour

Outside, the Irish courtyard garden (from 1933) was a lovely surprise. A little pocket of soft greenery and fairy lights with its own sense of place. I actually made a few notes about what I could do with my own garden, not to Talliston levels, obviously, but inspired by the idea that even a small space can tell a story. It was a reminder that creativity doesn’t have to be confined to interiors. It can spill out into the soil, the stones, and the way a path curves toward a wooden gazebo with seating.

There’s no toilet or shower in The Cabin itself. Instead, I walked ten feet across said courtyard garden and into the main house, where I had access to the Lighthouse Keeper’s bathroom. And oh, what a bathroom. A full-blown nautical fever dream, complete with model ships, ropes, and maritime memorabilia. It had a loo, a shower, and a bath, and given there were no other guests during my stay, I had it all to myself. Normally, it’s shared with guests in the two other bedrooms, but this time, it was mine. Another world, another theme, another moment of delightful absurdity.

Breakfast with the Creator

John, the visionary behind Talliston, greeted me warmly and gave me a short tour. It wasn’t the full experience (which you can book separately), but even the quick version was a treat. To be shown around by the creator, to hear snippets of the story behind each room, each object, each transformation, provided a layer of wonder before I was left to my own devices for two days.

As I was the only guest, John offered me the option to fix my own breakfast on Saturday morning so I could enjoy the house in complete privacy. Supplies were tucked away in the fridge and cupboards ready for me to help myself. It was perfect, a brilliant excuse to explore the kitchen properly. I got to open drawers, peek into cupboards, and navigate the space like a resident rather than a guest.

And what a space it was. The kitchen is themed around a Colonial Revival manse in 1950s Louisiana, and the attention to detail just as obsessive as everywhere else. Period crockery and cutlery, vintage tins, old-world signage – it felt like I’d wandered into a jazz-age apartment in the French Quarter. I sat at the dining table to write my morning pages at the dining table, sip tea, and munch my way through my breakfast goodies. It was slow, gentle, and oddly grounding.

On Sunday morning, John returned to set things out bed-and-breakfast style. It was another chance to chat with him about the house, his process, and the novels he’s written (read a mini review in my latest journal entry). There’s something special about meeting someone who’s poured so much of themselves into a space. Talliston isn’t just a house – it’s a story you can walk through. And John? He’s the storyteller.

Trig Pillars, Reservoir Breezes and Bacon Lore

Between my two nights at Talliston, I wasn’t chasing hikes or town trails this time, this trip was all about celebrating a friend’s surprise birthday. But I did sneak in a few Zoe-style rituals. First, a very quick trig pillar visit at South Hanningfield, just 79m above sea level, but still satisfying to tick off. Then a breezy wander at Hanningfield Reservoir, where the water was calm, the paths were quiet, and the whole thing felt like a gentle palate cleanser between surreal house immersion and social celebration.

I also made time for a proper wander around Great Dunmow itself. Originally a Roman settlement along the ancient Stane Street, Dunmow was a medieval market town and now boasts over 150 listed buildings. But the real historical gem? The Dunmow Flitch Trials. Dating back to 1104, this delightfully odd tradition awards a side of bacon to married couples who can convince a jury they’ve not regretted their union for a year and a day. Chaucer even gave it a nod in The Canterbury Tales. It’s still held every leap year, and yes, bacon is still the prize.

There’s also the Doctor’s Pond, where Lionel Lukin is thought to have tested early lifeboat designs, and the Clock House, linked to Catholic martyr Saint Anne Line. It’s a town that wears its history with charm and just the right amount of eccentricity. I mean, Talliston blows all of that out of the water, but you can see why such a house might feel at home in this place!

The Cost of Quirkiness

I paid £290 for two nights in The Cabin at Talliston; £145 per night. That’s definitely more than I’d usually spend on a hotel, so this one falls firmly into the quirky stay treat category. And while the lack of ensuite might raise an eyebrow at that price point, it’s worth remembering that this is a small semi-detached house on a quiet street in Essex. There’s simply nowhere to put an ensuite without compromising the magic.

But what you get is something far more rare; a full immersive experience. Not just a room, but a world. And in my case, the entire house. I was handed the keys and left to roam freely, to explore, to settle, to imagine. That kind of trust and creative generosity is hard to price.

Would I stay again? Maybe. Maybe not. But honestly, it doesn’t matter. Because The Cabin at Talliston is not somewhere I’ll ever forget. It’s a place that rewires your sense of what a home can be. A house of stories, stitched together with scent bags, snowshoes, and a whole lot of heart.

Reflections from the Cabin

Talliston House & Gardens was, without question, the quirkiest place I have ever stayed – and I say that as someone who actively seeks out strange and wonderful accommodation. From the moment I stepped into The Cabin, with its pine-scented air and wilderness soundtrack, to the final morning chat with John over breakfast, it was a journey through imagination, craftsmanship, and sheer eccentric brilliance.

The house is a sensory overload in the best possible way. Every room is a world. Every object has a story. And every door leads somewhere unexpected. Whether I was curled up in the Mead Hall lounge, scribbling in the Louisiana kitchen, or cautiously descending from the Cambodian Spirit House in the loft, I was constantly reminded that this place is unlike anything else.

John’s passion for storytelling runs through every inch of the house, and into his novels, too. I started the first one sat in The Cabin, and picked up where I left off on Audible on my drive home, and doing so has definitely added another layer to the experience (mini review here). John runs writing retreats from Talliston, which makes perfect sense. This isn’t just a place to stay, it’s a place to create, to imagine, to get lost in.

I was afforded a surreal kind of solitude on this particular Quirky Stay, and as I said at the very top of this article, it’s going to be very hard to find anything else to match it.

If you’re even slightly tempted, go. Book a night. Take the tour. Read the book. Let yourself be swept up in the madness. Because Talliston is more than quirky. It’s unforgettable.

Quirky Stay in The Cabin at Talliston: Fact File

Name: The Cabin at Talliston House & Gardens

Location: Great Dunmow, Essex

Type of Stay: Immersive themed cabin within a fantasy house. Or… semi-detached suburban home turned time-travel portal!

Features: Canadian wilderness-style cabin with loft bed, scent and sound immersion.

Facilities: Cabin includes period heater, table, comfy chairs, loft sleeping area, low lighting, hidden plug sockets, cupboard storage; with shared access to Lighthouse Keeper’s bathroom (toilet, shower, bath); breakfast included; full house tour available as optional extra.

Best For: Lovers of the absurdly quirky, immersive storytelling, solo creative retreat, architectural fantasy seekers.

Sleeps: The Cabin sleeps two. There are two other bedrooms, each sleeping two.  

Cost: Advertised from £165 per night (but I paid £145 per night in early September 2025).

Booking: Direct