This review of Cotswold House hotel is taken from our latest guidebook, Mr & Mrs Smith: Hotel Collection – UK/Ireland Volume 2.

After a taxing week at work, followed by the traditional weekend bolt from the city, it is always
a joy to find the Cotswolds still where they should be, still oil‑painting perfect, and still with a dream designer pad nestled peacefully in their midst.

Cotswold House in Chipping Campden has featured in Mr & Mrs Smith before, but has since opened a spangly new annexe called Montrose House, with contemporary interiors by local design duo A&J D’Alton, and creative lighting by Bruce Munro. As the eight new rooms and suites come with all the trimmings, from minibars to Loewe entertainment systems that can download digital pictures, it seemed safe to assume that this was a place in which one could indulge fully. So you can imagine my delight at being asked to review the hotel on a weekend that featured both Mrs Smith’s birthday, and the Ryder Cup.

Now I’m not sure I subscribe to the view that golf is the new black, but I am aware it’s an obsession for some, irritating to others and on the to‑do lists of many in the middle. I fall into the category of golfers who – despite being kitted out with all the best clubs, bag, footwear, visor, etc, on the market – are astonished by the fact that they are still utterly unable to play the game. So, I have reached an agreement with myself, which involves taking pleasure in watching the pros on telly and passing informed comment on their shots, while politely declining fourballs from friends who can actually play a bit. In other words, a golf weekend holed up in a luxury hotel suits me better than one on an 18‑hole golf course (there are none at Cotswold House, in case you were wondering).

Whatever one’s personal enthusiasms, Chipping Campden is the stuff that postcards were made for, thanks to all that beautiful, golden Cotswold stone. On arrival at the hotel, we were greeted with warmth. And a first view of our suite – the Sezincote, named after the celebrated Gloucestershire garden – couldn’t fail to impress. Not only was it massive, with a stone bath for two and Acqua di Parma toiletries (David Niven’s favourite), it also had a remote‑control fire, LED shower lighting that changed colour while you lathered and, most sensationally, three televisions. To which I’d added (by phoning ahead) posh pillows from the bedding menu, a pre‑emptive cake and a huge bunch of flowers. Thereby – I hoped – earning a good couple of hours’ worth of Ryder Cup‑watching credits from Mrs Smith.
 
After a quick peek at the first-day highlights and a disco shower, we headed to Juliana’s, the smarter of the hotel’s two restaurants. The dining room looks onto floodlit gardens through French windows; and the modern British menu features local game, meats and cheese, and scallops from the Isle of Skye. Chef John Sherry’s cooking earned him a place on the Michelin Guide’s 2007 list of ‘Rising Stars’; service is second‑to‑none and the wine list is inviting – too inviting. We woke up on the Saturday feeling furry, but not so as to blight the birthday mood of Mrs Smith, who duly opened her presents (two hits, one miss) before we wobbled along to breakfast, a feast of warm, crusty breads and local condiments.
 
For the morning’s entertainment, we walked to Chipping Campden and pottered around, finally abandoning the antiques shops for Bennett’s, a wine emporium harbouring all sorts of marvellous secrets. Safe in the knowledge that we’d done our fresh‑air‑and‑curiosity bit, we retreated to our room, battened down the hatches, opened a bottle of cheeky white, turned on all three tellies, ran a bath and ordered room service – beer‑battered haddock and chips with mushy peas was among our requests – from the hotel’s second restaurant, Hick’s Brasserie. And there we stayed, for the next 24 hours.
 
Cotswold House remains a stylish and brilliantly run hotel in a beautiful part of the world, and it’s fair to say that the new wing is a triumph. Our visit certainly proved a wonderful tonic for our hectic London lifestyles. All that remained was to head back via Bicester Village to top up Mrs Smith’s presents and pick out a new pair of golf trousers for me.