To The Manor Born

Oh to be an aristocrat, to dine and wine amid priceless heirlooms, to sleep in oversized beds with far-too-fluffy pillows and to be brought bottled water by a butler when you find yourself parched mid-run on the treadmill!

That's right, I spent yet another weekend (sadly my last for this story) at one of England’s most luxurious manor houses. Now in the collection of the National Trust, this five-star hotel offers the best of worlds old and new. Under obligation to keep all refurbishments in line with the history of the house the rooms and décor today look just as they did more than a century ago – with the main building dating back to the 17th century.

Girlfriend and I took to the grandeur like ducks to water – she ate the duck later that evening on a bed of balsamic-infused beetroot and potato rosti with roasted spring vegetables – strolling around the grounds (the house set amid 376 acres of formal gardens and parklands, only 30 minutes from the centre of London and bordering the Thames River) and even taking a dip in their outdoor pool. Yes, the weather decided to brighten for us on Sunday and bikini-clad we embraced the sunshine after sweating it out on the cross trainer and treadmill in their small but serviceable members and guests’ gymnasium.

It was this morning, in our bid to fit in another gym session, a buffet breakfast and a Swedish massage before departing on our 11.44am train back to London Paddington that we were forced to ring the bell for our butler to bring us two bottles of Hilden, still not sparkling.

I’ve come to notice over the past month of luxing-it-up at proper English manor hotels that their staff really are a cut above; able to effect the perfect blend of service and charm. They’re confident without being condescending and eager to please without broaching the oppressive. We particularly liked being escorted through the maze of corridors by tall, dark and handsomes wearing their tux and tails. You gotta love a good Englishman!