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Daily Mirror
18-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mirror
'I stayed at the hotel named best in England and was shocked by its star rating'
Having high expectations when you're visiting the best hotel in England isn't a bad thing, but Danielle Kate Wroe was holding her breath to see whether Mallory Court could live up to them... The expectations are high when arriving at a hotel that has been named the best in England. Earlier this year, the Mallory Court Country House Hotel and Spa was crowned the best large hotel by a panel of VisitEngland judges, who fell in love with the Warwickshire manor. The experts heaped praise on Mallory Court, describing it as providing 'a serene base 'set within 10 acres of landscaped gardens, crammed full of all the modern amenities and luxury trimmings you could possibly want. What's more, the hotel was recently described as being an absolute bargain, with one reviewer noting that the price of a room for the night is half that of a similar country house. So, a lot to live up to. Do you have a travel story you think we should cover? Let us know! Email webtravel@ We wandered around the gardens, and General Manager Josefine Blomqvist told us that Mallory Court is working to become more sustainable by growing its own produce—and the bees that buzz around the garden are part of that effort. After getting ready for dinner, we headed to the lovely garden area and drank a glass of champagne as we enjoyed the stunning views. It felt like I'd stepped straight into an episode of Bridgerton, pretending that I was the lady of the manor. Once we'd enjoyed some olives and salted beans with our drink, we were taken through into the dining area. My partner and I opted for the tasting menu curated by MasterChef winner Stu Deeley. I hadn't indulged in a tasting menu for quite some time, so this was an exciting fine-dining experience. Plus, the sommelier went to great lengths to find the perfect bottle of wine for us to share as we dined. We opted for a Chinon Blanc Les Bondonnières Couly-Dutheil 2023, and it complemented each course perfectly. It was crisp but not too sweet—I'd definitely buy a bottle to enjoy at home. We started with canapés and an amuse-bouche, one of which was the most melt-in-the-mouth goat cheese I have ever tasted. This was followed by a malted loaf from Silvertree Bakery with estate dairy cultured butter, burrata with pea and mint gazpacho and artichoke, a crispy Burford Brown egg, barbecued leek and warm tartare sauce, Cornish monkfish, borlotti bean cassoulet, baby courgette, brown shrimps, Espelette and nduja sauce, and finally the Oxfordshire hogget with potato terrine, French beans, and salsa verde. The meal delivered flavour sensations like I've never experienced before, especially the warm tartare sauce. It was unusual, but divine. The final part of the meal was, of course, dessert. The chocolate fondant tart was incredibly luxurious, with the mint ice cream providing a somewhat nostalgic taste. It reminded me of being a child and smelling mint in my mum's garden—so it was not only delicious but also evoked lovely memories. We finished off with some warm madeleines, a welcome way to round off the meal perfectly. We dined for three and a half hours, laughing and joking with our lovely waitress all night long, and left very satisfied. Upon returning to the room, we were thrilled to see it had been turned down for the evening: the curtains were drawn, the fan turned back on, and we'd been left a gorgeous little jar of honey from the Mallory Bees. This was a lovely touch, given to guests for special occasions. I can confirm—it's one of the nicest honeys I've ever tasted. We got ready for bed, and I had a perfect night's sleep. I didn't even stir once, which, in the heat we were experiencing, was a surprise. The bed wasn't too soft nor too firm—a real Goldilocks bed, if you will. The morning after, I made full use of the garden and went outside to read before getting ready for the day, while my partner made use of the spa facilities. He used the indoor and outdoor pools, and I went to have a nosy—they were immaculately clean and lovely. We headed to breakfast, where I enjoyed eggs royale and my partner had a full English. We also had orange juice and coffee. Again, the staff were lovely and welcoming and truly couldn't do enough for us. Afterwards, we wandered past our private garden and into the hotel grounds, exploring the nooks and crannies. It's like a magical fairy world. I can truly appreciate why this hotel won Large Hotel of the Year at the VisitEngland Awards for Excellence 2025. My only query is: why on earth isn't this hotel five-star? Because it more than deserves to be. It's undeniably the nicest place I've stayed in this country—and I've been to some seriously fancy hotels. But Mallory Court is magical.
The Independent
21-03-2025
- The Independent
Celebrity holograms, helicopters and champagne cruises: How to spend £100,000 on a London weekend
'Good morning', says hologram Lewis Hamilton from the corner of my £20,000 per night London hotel suite as a butler rolls in with Burford Brown eggs on sourdough before a helicopter ride to Silverstone for the British Grand Prix. No, not really – but this might only be a slight exaggeration for travellers on London 's luxury scene prepared to splash some serious cash. With everything possible, from the outrageous to the unimaginable, the British capital has no shortage of riches for those looking to splurge. 'The world is your oyster if the price is right,' says Hope Dowlen, co-founder of concierge company 48 London. An expert in the endless possibilities that come with emptying your purse, Dowlen says that the things that 'sound mad' are the things they make happen for high-spend travellers staying in the city. Be it hosting the influx of Wimbledon -bound tourists during July's socialite season with Centre Court access and lessons from ex-tennis professionals, or rolling out the Easter bunny for an immersive egg hunt in Hyde Park, concierge services are on hand for the most bespoke of breaks. Dowlen says that bar transport, accommodation melts the most money of the industry's affluent clients. Top suites at iconic London hotels – namely first-class favourite Claridge's, The Dorchester and The Connaught – are often booked out with space to spare for staff. Thankfully, if travellers get sick of the hustle and bustle of the Harrods periphery, there's always a £15,000 helicopter ride to the Cotswolds on hand to mix things up. Drawn in by the image of British tradition, British history and British architecture, travellers from far and wide will take off for the UK this year with royal agendas in mind. Anthony Lassman, founder and CEO of Nota Bene Global, manufactures these indulgent itineraries for some of the world's most affluent travellers. Although eye-watering to the average tourist, Lassman's hypothetical but painfully plausible itinerary proves just how easy it is to drop £100,000 over two nights in the capital. Friday afternoon High-spend travellers can start by checking into a suite at Claridge's for a cool £21,000 a night. A favourite of Lassman's with 'lovely light and views', newly appointed upper-floor suites are the epitome of elegance, complete with intimate dining spaces, terraces and a personal butler. It would be understandable to not leave the confines of a Claridge's hotel room-cum-private palace, but with money to spare it's the galleries of Mayfair, where a Friday afternoon is best whiled away by the uber-rich. Peruse the walls of creative giants David Zwirner, Thaddeus Ropac, Gagosian, Pace, Almine Rech and Spruth & Magers to secure your next collector's piece. If that hasn't burnt an art-shaped hole in your pocket, a pot of tea and auction viewing break at Sotheby's followed by shopping in the big-hitting storefronts of Bond Street, a visit to the Royal Academy and a stroll down the Burlington Arcade should lighten the load. Back in the comfort of Claridge's, a swim and a £250 massage in the impressive spa should prime travellers for aperitivo at sister hotel The Connaught's 'The Red Room' – Nota Bene's favourite hotel bar in Mayfair. It's then onto 'supper'. Make it light at The Connaught's Jean-Georges for French-meets-British-meets-Asian fare or try traditional Italian Il Gattopardo as a prelude to an evening performance at a symbol of extravagance, The Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. Saturday See in Saturday at Hyde Park's Serpentine Galleries, before a stroll down Portobello Road to embrace the 'Notting Hill vibe' with lunch at Wild, a Mediterranean kitchen on Westbourne Grove. Forgo the Tube for a leisurely drive around the white stuccos of Kensington and Holland Park before another shopping session on Sloane Street and some R&R back in the hotel suite. Cars, says Dowlen, can slice off a significant chunk of the budget. Have a penchant for Ferraris or a James Bond complex? A vintage Aston Martin could be all yours for the day. This evening's entertainment includes a theatre show at The Old Vic, one of the main theatres around Shaftesbury Avenue. Post-performance, it's supper at Mayfair's Arlington, where a 2013 bottle of Harlan Estate red wine will set you back £2,200. Sunday morning Leave Claridge's leisurely with a morning platter of pastries before boarding a boat at Westminster pier. According to Lassman, an exclusive cruise to see all of London's highlights, stopping to browse the exhibitions at the Tate Modern with a multi-course lunch, champagne and crew at your service is a first-rate way to spend that final £20,000 weighing you down. Thus concludes a blow out London weekend for a cost of around £100,000 – a little less than the average first-time buyer deposit for a property in the capital (£108,848) – in just two days.
Telegraph
03-03-2025
- Telegraph
I've become a posh hermit for a fortnight and it's glorious
Have you come across the phrase ' off-grid luxury '? I hadn't until this week, but apparently it's all the rage. What it means, so say various travel agents, is a holiday in a remote, isolated spot without amenities such as TV or Wi-Fi, but still comfortable. Or expensive, I think the travel agents mean (you know what they're like). You're in the Hebrides, but there are Molton Brown miniatures in the bathroom and a minibar stocked with dolly-sized bottles of champagne for £400 a pop. That sort of thing. 'Ten years ago, off-grid was synonymous with roughing it,' says Sarah de-Vere-Drummond, a travel specialist I'm delighted to discover, largely because her name is almost as silly as mine. 'But nowadays off-grid stays are far more luxurious: think solar power and wood burners as a matter of course; perhaps a wood-fired hot tub, even saunas as a gorgeous extra.' In other words, you're being a posh hermit. A hermit, because you're taking yourself away somewhere secluded and quiet; posh because you're still sleeping in a bed with Egyptian cotton sheets. It piqued my interest, this story, because I'm currently enjoying my own 'off-grid stay' in a crofter's cottage with a wood burner, up a long farm track in the wilds of North Wales. I'm here because I have a pressing book deadline to work on, so it's not exactly a holiday, but Dennis the terrier and I are fitting in time for the odd walk, as well as the odd piece of bara brith. We've been here for two weeks, barely interacted with another human being, and couldn't be happier. We wake at dawn, head to the beach for our first walk, come back and write all day (Dennis doesn't do much writing, he's more a thinking man), before another walk, Welsh cake for tea, bed most evenings at 8.30pm. I'm almost rising and going to sleep with the sun, like they did in the olden days. There's not much roughing it as a posh hermit. The crofter's cottage has electricity and Wi-Fi, admittedly (thank heavens, otherwise how else could I bring you this front-line report?). It also has White Company towels and bedding, and a magnificent supply of water so hot I keep scalding myself in the bath. The only possible moment of deprivation was when the Waitrose delivery man called me from the bottom of the farm track on the evening I arrived and said he couldn't get his van to the cottage. There followed a farcical scene for the local sheep, who witnessed a woman in her pyjamas and wellington boots ferrying items including Burford Brown eggs, Greek yogurt, an organic chicken and several bottles of Fever Tree tonic from a Waitrose van into the boot of her own car, before driving them back up to the cottage. Apart from that, this hermit life isn't half bad. During my time at Tatler we ran a piece on follies, decorative little outbuildings that the Georgian aristocracy built in their gardens largely because they didn't have enough to do. From this developed a craze for hermitages, similarly small constructions – think a very grand garden shed – which was either designed to give the impression of a live-in hermit, or in some cases inhabited by a real hermit, paid for by the owner. William Kent designed a hermitage at Stowe; there's another, now listed, at Brocklesby Hall in Lincolnshire, and a real hermit was said to live in the hermitage at Painshill in Surrey, until he bunked off and was found in the local pub. Professor Gordon Campbell, author of The Hermit In The Garden, has suggested that they were built for their wealthy owners to 'outsource' their melancholy, to make them feel better about their own, wildly indulgent lifestyles. I'm not saying we need to start advertising for beardy men to live in our sheds, but are we perhaps seeking comparable spiritual respite? Normal life means constant demands – emails, meetings, phone calls, messages we need to reply to, childcare, terrier care, social engagements we've agreed to when we didn't really want to, gym classes to make us feel less guilty about the wine last night. Roughly 10 to 15 times a day I remember something that I failed to do the previous day and feel a sharp pang of guilt – I should have called that person back, returned an item in the post, made an appointment, replied to that important email, rung the plumber, paid an invoice, booked another appointment, rung another plumber because inevitably the first one would be busy, and so on and so on. But go away for a spell, not a jolly to the Alps or the Algarve where you'll bump into half the school run, but a proper, enforced break deliberately away from the hordes, and all that vanishes. I haven't felt guilty about forgetting anything while here. I'm on my own, carbohydrate-heavy retreat; everything else can wait. Normal life has been temporarily postponed. It's what the new series of The White Lotus is grasping at, set in a luxury hotel in Thailand where guests are asked to hand in their mobiles when they check in. Horrifying for most of us because we've become so incapable of switching off, scrabbling for our phones at the merest ping or flash of the screen, and yet having a little break from the bleating device, as well as all the other demands on our time, is exactly what we need. The only danger is that life becomes too alluring as a posh hermit. Dennis and I went for an eight-mile romp around the Llŷn Peninsula last Saturday. It was a gloriously sunny day, and I could see the faint outlines of an island in the distance, which looked very inviting. Bardsey Island, I later discovered, has a population of 11 and various cottages for rent. It sounded just the ticket for my next retreat, I decided, until I read that pets weren't allowed. Later, I watched The Outrun, a Bafta-nominated film starring Saoirse Ronan who goes to work for the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) on one of the most remote Orkney islands, Papa Westray. 'Ooh, that looks nice and peaceful,' I thought, immediately opening Airbnb. There was just one house available on the island, but guess what? It comes with a hot tub. So there's your off-grid luxury. I'm less sure about the White Company situation, though, and there's probably no Waitrose.
