Beaverbrook

For a man that has worked for 36 years in London’s West End, it is with complete joy that luxury hotel Beaverbrook is only 19 miles from Piccadilly Circus. Ideal really, because it means I can go to this haven of tranquility with Mrs Smith for a well-deserved mid-week break without any long-slog journeys.

Hulking, Grade-II-listed stately home Beaverbrook is set on a 400-acre estate at the edge of Box Hill in Surrey. It was once the residence of Max Aitken, aka Baron Beaverbrook. A kingmaker and power broker, Max hosted the good and the great here, from Chaplin to Churchill, Kipling to Taylor, they all came. Now this former den of grandeur has been restored to its former glory, with the interiors of the French-style mansion given a sympathetic modern makeover by formidable designer Susie Atkinson.

The hotel’s sense of noble tranquility is felt on arrival, as the mile-long driveway threads through the foot of the South Downs offering soul-soothing country views. At the entrance, we are immediately greeted by a man who introduces himself as Mark, who looks like he’s time-travelled straight from the roaring 1920’s. He guides us to reception. Check-in was super easy and a delightful experience, we're told we're in the Somerset Maugham Turret Room and while our luggage is being taken care of we're offered a tour of the downstairs.

We are shown the first privately-owned cinema in England, which has been restored to its former Art Deco splendour. When it's not in use, you can do as we did and just go in to watch one of your favorite Netflix shows. The Walking Dead takes on a whole new meaning. If there’s one hotel you don’t want to have to use a lift in, it’s this one; as you glide up the stairs, passing the incredible centerpiece tapestry by Brian Clarke, you can’t help but feel that you’ve truly arrived. There’s the Liz Taylor Suite to your left and the Kennedys to your right and, after one more short flight, we’re in our room. It’s gorgeous, with views from the balcony across the beautifully manicured grounds to the South Downs where the sun is just starting to set. There is everything you need, including some free sloe gin and soft drinks in the minibar. This is not a room to work in or even read an email, it’s for sitting, breathing and relaxing in.

Excited to see the Coach House Spa before dinner, we headed downstairs – again wowed by the staircase – and are greeted by a charming man called Tom who guides us past the elegant Parrot Bar towards the spa. You also stroll past the kitchens, through a spectacular hallway, as if you are Lord and Lady of the manor. Interesting to note: staff have a variety of uniforms, but are easy to spot as they all have silver Spitfires adorned to their lapels or jumpers. This is a big nod to Baron Beaverbrook’s son Max, who fought in the Battle of Britain as a Spitfire pilot. There is also a set of paintings of planes by Brian Clarke. Anyways, back to the spa. It’s a design triumph – Brian Clarke has created his famous stained-glasses and intricate tile-work everywhere. It’s amazing, totally unique and yet incredibly relaxing. The space has the very best of everything – a steam room, sauna, hammam, two pools… And massages are tailored to your needs, too. Mrs Smith and I had an incredible two-hour pampering session, and we practically had the place to ourselves – the hotel has just 29 rooms, so you often feel as if you’re the only ones staying.

In a soporific state, we headed back to the room to change for dinner. We would be dining at the hotel’s less formal restaurant, which is a short golf-cart ride away up the drive, next to the cookery school and kitchen garden. My advice is to book a table by the fire, or as close as you can get, as it’s the cosiest spot. Service is slick and the food is delicious; I highly recommend the beef carpaccio, crispy-duck salad and the pork belly. The next morning, after a fabulous night’s sleep we head down for breakfast. Tom greeted us in yet another outfit, this time much more casual and befitting of the early hour. He was so charming, we were thrilled to see him again. Breakfast is again faultless, with some of the best sausages ever served to man. 

After brekkie we decided to go on one of the many walks around the estate. It’s such a peaceful green patch that there are few reminders of what lays outside. Our walk is followed by lunch at the Coach House Deli in the spa complex. The chicken broth is a deliciously dark consommé with tender chicken chunks and sweetcorn. It’s a must-try and you can even takeaway if you’d rather dine in-room. And you needn’t order drinks here – pitchers of delicious elderflower water with mint and lemon are given free. We went back to the spa for another two hours of swimming, steaming and bubbling away in the Jacuzzi and sauna. I absolutely fell in love with this place and in its half-Olympic-size indoor pool you can have a proper swim, although it was too cold to use the outdoor pool.

On the way back to our room I notice a beautiful Jean Cocteau stained-glass by the study – another luminary former guest we’ve discovered. Before dinner we sample one of the sake martini’s in the Parrot Bar, a powder-puff-pink space with teal-velvet seating that’s been fashioned to reflect its former glory. You could picture Liz and Charlie and all the other infamous guests clinking cocktails while perched on the bar stools. Dinner is in the Japanese Grill and we have the eight-course menu as part of our package, and – whether it was a good idea or not – we’d opted for the eight-course drinks to go with it. This included a discombobulating six glasses of wine and two quarter bottles of sake each. The food is as good you would expect from any London-based Michelin-starred eatery.

We didn’t make it back to the bar as we had promised Joe the bartender. After our gamut of drinks, we just about managed it upstairs. But even in our foggy heads, one thing was clear: I love Beaverbrook, with its precise attention to detail and fabulous staff, and can’t wait to go back.