Double Red Duke

Mr Smith, Indy the cavapoo and I have spent an afternoon driving westwards through pleasingly preserved English villages, past undulating fields scattered with sheep, and along narrow lanes, flanked by ancient dry-stone walls. We’re in the blissfully bucolic Cotswolds. Its villages and market towns are populated with timeless, thatched cottages, built in honey-hued Cotswolds stone. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more idyllic, cue the late summer sun to bathe the scenery in the kind of golden light that only comes with that impending change of season, when the night air takes on that chilly nip and the scent of cool, dewy mornings returns. 

The Cotswolds is England’s largest Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty; a walker’s paradise of hills, grasslands and hostelries, and these days home to a long list of movie stars. It’s easy to see why.

Having passed through the charming village of Bampton (which fans of the TV show Downton Abbey will recognise as Downton’s doppelganger), we arrive a couple of miles down the road in the quiet Oxfordshire outpost of Clanfield, and instantly spot our weekend abode – the setting for our last hurrah (babymoon) before trips away become that bit more complicated. Or a lot more complicated… Time will tell on that one. 

Mr Smith and I had swooned over seemingly innumerable photos of the Double Red Duke on social media, such was the hype around its post-lockdown revamp and new lease of life under a change of ownership. Its now iconic red-and-white-striped parasols line up by the garden bar, seemingly mingling on the terrace beside a striking 17th-century coaching inn that’s most often pictured heaving with wisteria. And they set the tone for the fun, vibrant interiors within.

Each room is overflowing with personality; individually designed, full of bold colour, striking patterns and floral wallcoverings. There are 13 rooms in the original coaching inn, and a further six in the more recently built, timber-clad annexe. A handful of these are dog friendly. They’re full of the kind of touches I aspire to recreate in our own home but how do they make it so chic? It’s that skilful blend of carefully curated antique pieces with contemporary details, so that every corner is worthy of a shoot in House & Garden. Having had a snoop around both the inn and the annexe, on our return (yes, we’ve already started plotting our return), Mr Smith and I agree we’ll opt for one of the spacious garden rooms with lovely terraces backing onto the garden. 

Quickly unpacking our bags, we grab a couple of homemade cookies from the sideboard, and head straight out to the garden for a sundowner before dinner. A blend of locals and city-dwellers are all soaking up the last of the summer and the first of many drinks, such is the extent of the impressive cocktail menu – there’s a full page dedicated to local vodka blends alone, and another for virgin cocktails, which is much appreciated. There are only so many elderflower spritzes a pregnant gal can drink. 

Dining here is an event. The restaurant is buzzing, with fine-dining aficionados who like to see the action up close, taking their seats on studded-leather dining chairs at the counter overlooking an open grill. As it’s still fairly toasty, we choose a spot in the light and airy Garden Room conservatory on sumptuous velvet banquettes. 

Here, meat takes centre stage – unsurprising, since chefs Richard Sandiford and Richard Turner of those capital connoisseurs of cuts, Hawksmoor and Pitt Cue, have taken the helm. Our stomachs rumble as plates piled with rare steaks and burgers laden with accoutrements are whisked past us to other diners. The food envy is real. We decide to let our delightful waiter guide us on his favourite picks on the menu, opting first for a selection of small plates: devilish bacon rib croquettes, melt in your mouth apple-glazed bacon ribs (are you sensing a theme here) and juicy scallops with parsley and garlic butter. 

I am eating for two of course, and so I can wholeheartedly justify indulging in further courses, I tell Mr Smith, much to his delight I’m sure, as he was eyeing up that rare rump steak I mentioned. I’m curious about the barbecue hispi cabbage and miso butter – a revelation, and a meal in itself, and giving the prime cuts some charred and flavourful competition. 

As darkness draws in, Mr Smith and I ponder the positives of a return in winter, so cosy are the coachhouse's small interconnecting sitting rooms, all wood panelling and (when the mercury drops) crackling fires. At any time of year, they’re an idyllic spot for an intimate nightcap after the main event of our stay…the food. 

The following morning we are woken by the pooch bounding onto our cosy bed for a cuddle – and who can blame her… Though we do tell her that the lovely squishy bed provided for her by the hotel, along with ample doggy treats, sets the bar in canine luxury. We slowly wend our way to breakfast, pampered pup in tow, where a wholesome buffet is laid out on the bar, stocked with local produce and freshly baked treats – flaky cinnamon rolls and marmite-and-cheese pin-wheels, steaming bowls of porridge and enticing platters of charcuterie. And bowls of fruit too, if, like me, you’re still feeling the indulgences of the night before.

Burford beckons today, and the sun is shining yet again as we leave our luxurious lodgings. It’s one of our favourite Cotswolds towns, for a spot of shopping and a stroll. But our briefest of babymoons is soon at an end and we set off on the short hop down the motorway back to London. No prizes for guessing our conversation topic along the M40 – planning the next trip to our new favourite weekend retreat all the way home.