Mr & Mrs Smith

Having three young children makes it a little hard to envisage being able to grab a relaxing boutique-hotel break. With Master Smith (five), Miss Smith (three) and Baby Smith (four months) in tow, leaving the safety of home is usually characterised by frantic behaviour management, furious spending, even less sleep than usual and counting the hours until the relative peace of the journey home. ‘Surely “child friendly luxury” is an oxymoron?’ grumbles Mrs Smith when I propose our trip. It’s been a long winter.

A month later, however, the sun is shining as we turn off a country road just outside Abberley in Worcestershire onto the long tree-lined drive that leads up to The Elms. These Smiths are in hopeful mood.

‘Are we going to that castle?’ shouts Master Smith as he catches a glimpse of the stately Queen Anne mansion between the trees. ‘It must be a castle. It’s big and has a flag on top!’ It seems cruel to set him straight, and it is indeed a sight to behold. The kind of house that deserves to be approached in a vintage roadster instead of our stolid seven-seater. The Elms so far is a slice of pure, romantic England.

Bounding into the lobby we are met with atmosphere of laidback comfort. The house, built in 1710 by architect William Gilbert, a pupil of Sir Christopher Wren and the man behind the guildhall in nearby Worcester, offers half a dozen or so generous reception rooms with high ceilings and beautiful cornicing throughout. Period furniture and ornate wallpapers combine with large blackened fireplaces and flagstones to create feeling less of a hotel and more of an enormous family house. The well-fed Labrador certainly looks at home.

Grand, yet low-key, this luxury hotel looks comfortable and lived-in. We see immediately that there is no furniture too special for a muddy shoe to land on, no vase of flowers perched precariously on delicate side tables and there’s a distinct absence of prim staff ready to tut at our brood’s latest slip up. Instead, we are welcomed by a broad grin and ‘You’re just in time for Animal Man! Go on over and we’ll take your bags up to the room’.

Animal Man, it turns out, is one of the regular entertainment sessions laid on in the ‘Bears Den’, a purpose-built crèche kitted out with everything your kids wish you had at home; from babyfoot to activity tables to doll’s houses, sandpits and stacks of toys. As we arrive, Animal Man is showing a group of children a boa constrictor. Next he unveils a living, breathing hedgehog, a meerkat, a skunk and, weirdest of all, an armadillo. He talks us through their diets, characters and fields questions regarding toilet habits with great aplomb. ‘I think this might be the best adventure ever,’ observes Master Smith as he tickles a tortoise. I glance over to Mrs Smith; she is definitely softening.

Our accommodation is in the Elms’ main house, at the top of the wide-carpeted staircase. The two rooms are cleverly joined via ensuite bathrooms meaning that we can get to the Junior Smiths, but they also feel like they’re on their own. Traditional decor (chintzy in a good way) makes it feel comfortable and large windows look out over the croquet lawn a to a finely trimmed hedge and trees beyond.

After a quick visit to the spa complex to try out the wonderfully warm pool and hot tub, we eat at the informal Pear Terrace Brasserie. Here, kids are well catered for, with something to satisfy even the fussiest palate, and all reasonably priced.

A good night’s sleep (baby Smith notwithstanding) in a very comfortable bed later, and we trot down the sweeping staircase with a spring in our step. The thought of ‘free crèche’ is never far from our thoughts. Breakfast is taken in the main dining room and we arrive to find a handful of other families with children of a similar age tucking in to a sumptuous buffet where eggs and waffles are on demand.

Junior Smiths are soon exchanging names and ages with those on the next table and a trampoline competition is brewing. ‘I can do a somersault’ says one boy forcefully. ‘But it’s not summer yet!’ our offspring is heard to reply.

Next stop Bears Den for a swift drop-off, shortly followed by a latté and magazine on the terrace while Baby Smith naps. I swear I witness Mrs Smith’s shoulders loosening before my eyes as she peruses a copy of Elle Deco. Post lunch there is much trotting between the trampoline, the swings and the table tennis. But the highlight? The ‘Fairy Trail’. Watching our little ones tearing around the grounds in a gaggle of excited kids on the hunt for miniature doors in trees and collecting the names of the resident fairies proves worth the trip alone. Childhood magic.

High tea that afternoon is a buffet of cottage pie or macaroni cheese, jelly and rice pudding, sitting around large tables with other families. The relaxed vibe makes it feel much less like a luxury hotel and more like a large holiday cottage shared with lots of new friends.

Little ones in bed and listening service engaged, we make our way downstairs to the deliciously old school wood-panelled bar. Sinking into leather Chesterfields we order prosecco and a G&T. For the next few hours we remember what it was like to be just us. Two adults, engaged in grown-up conversation, uninterrupted, except by the call to enter the dining room next door when the time came. ‘Would you like to walk this way sir?’ Well, if you insist. Monkfish wrapped in pancetta you say? Oh, go on then.

So there you have it. It can be done. Even Mrs Smith has to agree. The key ingredient is kids having fun, making new pals and releasing all that energy without you needing to, well, try. I’d wager our stay at the Elms will stick with our children for years to come. And while they had a ball, we can take it easy. Book a massage, take a dip, or just sit in peace for a moment and drink in the surroundings (or a Hendrick’s and tonic with a cucumber stick). Not so much ‘child-friendly luxury’ as ‘child happy, we happy’.