QUINTESSENTIALLY | Insider | Travel

Noises Off @ Old Vic, London

Michael Frayn’s 1982 play is rightly regarded as one of the greatest comedies ever written.

Dealing with the attempts of a failing theatrical troupe to present a hoary old farce, ‘Nothing On’ – under the tutelage of a past-it director – it combines verbal wit with a quite astonishing array of dramatic devices that illuminate the failure of the cast and crew to keep the show going. Frayn’s particular genius is to have three separate ‘Act Ones’, the first being a disastrous run-through at a dress rehearsal, the second being the action of the play observed from backstage, and the third being the incompetent presentation of it towards the end of its run.

If this sounds at all pretentious, then rest assured it isn’t in the staging. Lindsay Posner’s new production at the Old Vic provides comic bliss from start to finish, thanks to an incredibly well-drilled and very game cast, all of whom relish the opportunity to demonstrate split-second timing and remarkable comic poise. It is slightly invidious to single out particular actors from the uniformly strong company, but Celia Imrie’s grand dame thespian playing a comic housekeeper, Robert Glenister’s philandering director Lloyd Dallas, Karl Johnson’s elderly drunk and Jamie Glover’s petulant leading man are all particularly hilarious.

And, oh yes, it’s funny. Along with One Man, Two Guvnors, it’s the most uproariously hilarious night that I’ve had at the theatre this year. I’d seen it before about a decade ago with a starry cast including Lynn Redgrave and Stephen Mangan, but I don’t remember that production reducing me to the helpless paroxysm of mirth that this one did. By the end, the simplest of objects – a plate of sardines, a bag, a telephone receiver – have become so freighted with comic significance that their very appearance sends a roar of appreciative laughter through the audience.

Saying anything more detailed about the play is not only unfair, but verges on the incomprehensible for the uninitiated. All I can say is that this is a guaranteed hit, and yet another splendid addition to the run of excellent plays at the Old Vic. For this, Mr Spacey, many thanks.

www.oldvictheatre.com/whatson.php?id=80

In the restaurant, we sat, just staring. Sometimes at each other, sometimes out over the plains of the forest and then out further across the twilight hours, carried as they are on the wings of a thousand swans, sometimes white, often black with all the poetry of nightfall. Their wings glide, high above Hartwell House and swoop along the rushes and further along towards Blenheim Palace and Woburn Abbey along the way.

It is here, just an hour from London, that deer dance across ravines now frosted over by the drip of mid-winter, tripping as they do across the Vale of Aylesbury. It is here that a lake shudders in lonely thought, impressed as it is by the silhouette of this 17-th century stately mansion – the very metaphor of ‘pensive reflection’ – in-awed by its strange inhabitants, by their laughter, their pensive smiles, amused too by their fond appreciation for its Jacobean furniture, its eerie figurines – each with their own unique countenance, becoming graver, darker, lighter, then stronger in bearing and power, then sensitive to your own sense of amazement as they climb up the sweeping staircase to 33 suites covered in fine fabric and a selection of shortbreads and ‘luxury fruit’.

I couldn’t figure out if my sighs in the almost forgotten candlelight were for the one, or for the other. My eyes rested on the one, the one I repeatedly called ‘buttercup’ (keeping a straight face all the while, and this just to try and make her laugh, for her smile had started so thinly, and was now growing steadily). My fork was heavy with a poached fillet of brill with lemon grass, and her lips were pressed against Ruinart Brut Rose, and they turned to find themselves reflected in the purple glass that divided the moon beam and shattered it on ten pale, motionless fingers (and one sapphire ring). I noticed that mine own eyes were both dilated, and shone with a similar intensity to that moon which found a place in her own.

Dear reader (for you are dear to me if you are reading this), you will ask me if such is the poise of romance that the world inside must find its immediate reflection in the world outside, that the sigh must escape from the heart into the ether and not in the other direction. And I will agree, and passionately at that. For what is this forest and these grand public rooms, the high ceilings and yellow cupolas and the fine paintings and the exquisite plasterworks (even if carved from a golden blade), and the beauty of this bookish garden, that infamous porch and its dark blue grass where a fountain and a poet that looks like you sit for one moment in time….what is it, and how can it be appreciated unless its sigh goes from the inside out, from one pair of eyes to another, from one lip to another, now acquiescing and saying ‘Yes. But look, there’s another one…another deer…another rabbit…another moon!’

My ponderings, so far, and so often, describe hats, and coats, the perfection of a stuffed saddle of rabbit (yes, and here it is brought over by one so elegant and softly spoken as to seem almost part of the country tweed that covers my shoulder), or the soft and supple notes of another glass of rosé that she had with the specialité de la maison – chicken breast with perfectly creamed potatoes – and the home made fudge or the pyramid of blackcurrant parfait with puddle of summer berry compote – so deliciously prepared, so thankfully devoured.

But I think of you as you read this, and I realise that such detail, though necessary, though in ‘the manner of things, and important for that reason’, are only details, and not the reason why you would choose to come here at all.

For I, in this twilight hour that I hold the pen, and remembering the air of wealth in that library with the great fire where we played chess for hours until finally she won (my boast has its purpose here too), and those fluffy white bathrobes, and that waistcoated man with the wide ancient smile that carried my bags out and into the waiting cab, and her smile as he hugged her goodbye, am left with a feeling of… Yes!

For it is the beauty of such a place in old Albion, with its lakes and swans and winding shadows so stoically wrought, that it holds the remnants of a thought that itself reminds us that such beauty cannot be around us if it does not exist with even greater potency within the very fibre of our beings.

www.hartwellhouse.com

The small town of Woodstock, a short journey from Oxford, could accurately be called the beginning of the Cotswolds, complete as it is with honey-coloured stone cottages, a barrage of chi-chi antiques shops, the sort of cosy pubs that come complete with log fires and somnolent dogs as standard and, of course, history in spades. Famously, the town is also home to Blenheim Palace, ancestral seat of the Duke of Marlborough and birthplace of Winston Churchill, and its magnificent grounds offer a truly breathtaking walk through the Capability Brown-designed gardens, making for a glorious experience regardless of the season.

Woodstock boasts its fair share of high-end hotels, including The Feathers, but the place to stay if you want a genuinely special and unique experience is the fabulous Hope House. Dating from the early 18th century, it was built at around the same time as Blenheim Palace, but obviously exists on a far less grandiose scale. Part of this refusal to compromise on service and setting can be found in the small-scale way in which it’s run – it consists of three suites, all named after notable local figures and places, and one separate apartment in the building next door, the Six Bells, which is recommended for longer visits.

We stayed in the Blenheim Suite, which is a genuinely wonderful experience. Offering everything you’d expect from a really top-grade hotel, from a Blu-Ray player and iPod dock to a four poster bed and stunning marble bathroom, it’s conceived on a far more impressive scale than most hotels. There’s a sense of size and space to it that makes a night (or weekend, or week) here feel more like a visit to a private home than staying in yet another faceless entity, and the warm welcome from the staff completes this feel. Everything from the Smeg fridge which doubles as a minibar (a sensibly priced minibar, not the usual exorbitant prices) to the excellent full English breakfast included as standard in the small adjoining restaurant is about as good as it gets, and certainly made for one of the most enjoyable nights that we’ve had all year.

While the hotel can cater to groups for bespoke dinners on request, most guests are steered towards the nearby King’s Arms restaurant for sustenance, and it’s easy to see why. Offering a menu perfectly pitched between heartiness and subtle innovation, head chef Brian Arnold keeps hunger at bay with such excellently presented dishes as poached duck egg with creamed spinach and crispy bacon, Kelmscott pork belly with black pudding and cider sauce and braised shank of lamb with rosemary mash. Make sure that you leave room – even if you have to share – for the chocolate quartet dessert, which boasts four different but delectable kinds of decadent treat. The wine list is copious and sensibly priced, with some unusual bottles on offer; an easy recommendation is the Chapel Down Pinot Noir, an unusually gutsy and vibrant English wine that goes well with meat and fish alike.

A visit to Woodstock is always a peaceful and pleasant experience.   If you need to escape from the bustle and hassle of urban life, if only for a weekend, then come here and begin to relax. It’s easier to do than you’d think.

www.hopehousewoodstock.co.uk
www.kings-hotel-woodstock.co.uk

I was unsure what awaited me inside the Marriott County Hall Hotel. The highly considered bespoke finish of a boutique hotel rarely finds its place in a world renowned hotel chain with over 500 lodgings, and as we so often find in anything with huge mass appeal, the gatekeepers of your gourmet dining privileges, of your unequalled balcony view in your equally resplendent suite are often either sleeping, or not alive at all.

And so, pleasant surprise when, upon arrival we found that our suite looked out onto the Thames, the river below lit up with reflections of London’s most famous landmarks; Big Ben’s clock tower, Houses of Parliament and the impeccable silhouette of Westminster Abbey. So, to lay it out, this is quite simply one of the best views of the city, and possibly the most tranquil one outside of the Lake District – the commuters and tourists seeming so far away – a trump card for any inner city hotel. As you turn back to the room itself, you are greeted with the ultimate in traditional comfort and modern technology. The two king-sized beds, swathed in Egyptian linen, and the expansive sofa area, each with a plasma screen for a multiple viewing experience.

Down the corridor, there’s the newly refurbished gym, the 25 metre swimming pool and the spa for those that want to look drop dead gorgeous. On the way, one notes that although the contemporary features are plentiful, they do not detract from the overall vintage feel that weaves its way through the hotel. Nearly a century old and having endured quite extensive refurbishment, the building still houses a wealth of original features; not least the library where we had a rather unusual evening meal, surrounded as we were by both the grand and the understated – the open fireplace, period decor and original floor to ceiling bookcases which enclosed either side of our table, with the light-imbued gift of one moonlit river floating by just outside.

The waiter, both charming and attentive, served the delicious three course meal – appetising courses coming one after the other with light and fluffy crab cakes, fresh smoked salmon, beautiful cuts of lamb and beef, and a scrumptious, melting chocolate soufflé – not forgetting some altogether sumptuous winter cocktails, including spicy apple and a classic Aston Webb Collins.

And so, after a very British meal, in very British surroundings, and a very calming sleep spent in crushed linen, we decided it was time to leave, quickly finding ourselves among the crowds on Westminster Bridge, only then realizing just how great an escape this hotel offers, how peaceful are its quaint corridors, how uncanny its objet’s du desir, and how profitable even one night away from city mania is to the mind, soul, and spirit.

London County Hall
Westminster Bridge Road
London, SE1 7PB

Some hotels should come with a behaviour warning. Cowley Manor nestled in the glorious Cotswold countryside (90mins from London) featuring lakes, ponds, giant oak trees and a grand Victorian cascading waterfall, is the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe meets Pride and Prejudice – or if you’re me, a boarding school fantasy come true.

The 55 acres of Grade II-listed parkland are overrun with wild flowers and thorny hideouts, ripe for secret rendezvous, and for anyone who checked in during the weekend of my visit, I can only apologise for my antics. Yes, the curvy naked lady on a first floor stone terrace was me… This is the kind of decorum Cowley Manor inspires.
Perhaps it’s the naughty Duke who haunts the corridors, or maybe it’s the tongue-in-cheek works-of-art hanging from dark panelled staircases. Whatever it is, there’s plenty at Cowley to encourage detention.

Thirty rooms (15 in the main house and 15 in the stable block), all feature generous bathrooms with rain showers and tubs big enough for two, bedecked with locally-produced Green & Spring organic products, plus free WIFI, flat screen TVs and Bose docking stations.

Our suite was large and airy with views over the lawn and lakes, so you can watch the ducks and geese play chase between the ancient trees. Completely void of any stately house gloom, and contemporary to the max, rooms boast Japanese-style low-slung four posters with vintage leather headboards, multi-coloured retro carpets (think DVF /Missoni), raspberry pink Arne Jacobsen Egg chairs and Swedish-style storage units to keep things tidy. The best room is number 17.

Throughout the hotel, the emphasis is on modern British design with bespoke furniture and original artworks, although it has to be said, some of the public areas feel a little shabby around the edges and could benefit from an update.

Book a table in the dining room for supper. It’s an impressive space with dramatic red ceilings, 12-foot French windows, parquet floors and comfy sage-green leather chairs. Our amuse-bouches were delivered in mini glass teacups, and there was nothing faddy about the pea and mint mêlée dedans.

Breakfast was served the best way: hot and fast. Fresh mango and sweet melon slices, black pudding (not too greasy) and firm local sausages. My only criticism was the tea which was served in a complex maraca-style Tovolo tea infuser. Too much fuss for my shaky morning hand.

The C.Side Spa is where Cowley truly excels. It’s more than just a chic space, it’s an architectural achievement. Boasting a slate-lined indoor pool and a glistening saltwater outdoor pool, open all year round, there are four treatment rooms, a gym, mani/pedi area, steam room and sauna. Go for a massage and you’ll be offered a choice of playlists – no danger of dolphin sonars or jingly-jangly yoga music here.

Whether you prefer to spend time in the spa, the shop (which has Vogue’s stamp of approval), the snooker room or your suite, I can think of no better place to unleash one’s inner schoolgirl. Just don’t tell your parents.

www.cowleymanor.com

When Lewis Hamilton said he and his money were moving to Switzerland, “for the quality of life,” there were a few raised eyebrows and just one or two wry smiles. Let’s be honest, it isn’t exactly the first incentive which springs to mind.

So, with this prejudice guiding my opinion, my recent trip to Bern turned out to be a revelation. Whisked away from the airport in a slick Jaguar, I felt a strange sensation – calm. It’s something you forget living amidst the hustle and bustle of London, where everyone goes about their business in stony silence, hurrying their way through life as quickly as humanly possible.

It’s a sensation that pervades the whole of the UNESCO heritage site. Gone are the rude commuters and aggressive pedestrians. The city is blissfully serene, with cobbled streets and quaint little shops tucked under a covered walkway. This peacefulness is deceptive, fooling you into thinking you were in a provincial town rather than the capital of Switzerland. So just to remind you of where you truly are, there’s a bear park slap-bang in the middle of the city, where four furry examples of the city’s namesake reside.

It would be easy to think that Bern lacks a distinctive charm, but closer inspection reveals a latent sense of humour which is idiosyncratic of the city. Wander around the centre and you’ll find a colourful fountain depicting an ogre devouring some local children. Climb the Gothic Münster tower to discover a fantastic view of the Zeitglockenturm Clock Tower, with its rotating bears and squawking golden cockerel which flaps its wings on the hour. Bern is good-natured and charming, just like its residents.

During my stay at the Bellevue Palace Hotel, this pleasant feeling of calm continued. Located next to the Swiss parliament, the hotel is steeped in neoclassical grandeur, making it the undisputed choice for its neighbours’ esteemed guests. There’s an overwhelming sensation of refined elegance, which extended all the way up to my gorgeous suite with the most spectacular views overlooking the River Aare and the magical Historical Museum of Bern. Back downstairs, a walk through the sun-strewn atrium brings you La Terrasse, the hotel’s exquisite gourmet restaurant. Ipads are on hand for guests to watch a live web camera in the kitchens and send messages down to head chef Gregor Zimmermann and his team. It’s an innovative touch, which perfectly illustrates the Bellevue Palace’s synthesis of traditional appeal and modern facilities.

Continuing our travels, we moved on to Interlaken. Situated just an hour outside Bern, it’s the perfect destination for combining the great outdoors with a city break. Catching the train, we journeyed through valleys and alongside lakes, taking in the scenery and the mesmerising green blur of the pines as we escaped the city. Stepping off the train, the air was crisp and pure, welcoming you to this mountainous haven. Here, the Victoria-Jungfrau Grand Hotel & Spa sits between two beautiful lakes and at the foot of the eternally snowcapped Jungfrau, however, the main draw is its phenomenal spa, which provides the perfect compromise for those who want to enjoy the stunning views without leaving the comfort of the hotel. I indulged in an hour and a half of ESPA’s Authentic Swiss Alpine Herb Compress Massage, which soothes away tension through a combination of peppermint, nettles, lemon balm, thyme, marigold and mallow. It’s a treat for the senses, subconsciously reminding you that this alpine retreat is all about relaxation. It didn’t take long for all my tension to ebb away and as I enjoyed a light lunch in my bathrobe at the casual Spa Café, I felt completely regenerated.

As wonderful as the spa is, you’d be seriously missing out if you didn’t head out into the mountains for some exploring. Offering a range of adventure sports to suit all fitness levels, from mountain biking to white water rafting, there’s really no reason to stay indoors. We chose to hire e-bikes from Flying Wheels, electrically powered bicycles which have a variety of settings to help you up some of those more challenging hills. Following the Brienz river, we visited the picturesque Iseltwald fishing village as the sun was rising, giving the horizon a luminous and ethereal quality. It’s a truly beautiful setting, and the Chalet du Lac where we stopped adds a quintessentially Swiss feel, with its cosy, wooden interiors serving delicious hot chocolate. Quite frankly, I found it difficult to drag myself away from this idyllic spot, but the promise of waterfalls had me back on my e-bike, eying up the imminent onslaught of many a steep incline with steely determination.

The Muelibach Falls are hidden away, nestled between the trees in a location only accessible by foot, but I can assure you, it’s worth the effort, providing a truly stunning view. By the time we’d got back to the hotel, we’d built up quite an appetite, so the traditional Swiss cheese-fondant we enjoyed that evening was a delicious relief. To be quite honest though, we were spoilt for choice, as the hotel boasts three fabulous restaurants, each accompanied by a fantastic list of local wines. The Cuvée Madame Rosmarie Mathier was a particular favourite, and provides a perfect introduction to the wonderful world of Swiss wine. Spoilt, relaxed and well-fed, I slept deeply that night, surrounded by an aura of complete well-being. 3 nights in Switzerland and I had never felt better.

Perhaps we shouldn’t judge Lewis too harshly after all.

http://www.bern.com/en/

Duke’s Hotel, in the heart of Mayfair, is one of London’s most discreet and celebrated hotels, and famous for the superb martinis served in the bar. Famously, Ian Fleming was a habitué of the place, and it’s rumoured that the famous line ‘shaken, not stirred’ was an allusion to the way in which the drinks were made. Everything about it radiates a sort of unfussed excellence, a strong juxtaposition against the more glitz-soaked establishments of nearby Park Lane – a place, dare I say, where the attitudes on display have that unassuming Parisian aesthetic we all try hard to imitate (sometimes).

One further reason to frequent Duke’s is the arrival of an extremely classy new restaurant, Thirty Six. As the subtitle ‘by Nigel Mendham’ suggests, it is now home to the titular Michelin-starred chef, who attracted much acclaim for his previous stint at The Samling in Windermere. Mendham’s interests are very much in the traditionally British vein, where dishes don’t go in for fancy frills for the sake of it, but instead focus on combining interesting and delicious ingredients in often unexpected and interesting ways.

Typical of Mendham’s techniques is a starter of quail which combines braised leg, terrine forestiere and – wittily – a miniature fried (quail’s) egg. It’s delicate, makes its point almost immediately and impresses in a subtle, unfussy fashion. Perfectly matched with a glass of 2010 Viognier Tabali, it’s a compelling start to a meal that prizes delicacy above flash. Excellent turbot is matched with rib of beef, horseradish and a native oyster, a combination of a lot of ideas that shouldn’t work by rights but, rather wonderfully, coheres beautifully. Even a more conventional dish, such as salt marsh lamb with sticky ribs, braised shank and caramelised shallot, shows that there’s a very simple formula to this: if you have a chef who knows what he’s doing, and using top-notch produce, the results will be excellent.

In fact, the closest that the menu gets to a real surprise comes towards the end, when a conventional cheese course (although available) is replaced by a golden cross clafoutis. Many people associate the clafoutis with something sweet and fruity, but this is definitely savoury, light and a definite change of pace from what people would expect. Much, in fact, like the rest of Thirty Six, a place that surely will become one of Mayfair’s most popular haunts before too long.

St James’ Place, SW1. www.dukeshotel.com

Minster Lovell, in the heart of the Cotswolds, is the sort of place that people like to imagine represents England at its most idyllic. It’s a small village, mainly consisting of one picturesque street, which leads up to a ruined abbey. There are glorious walks roundabout through bucolic countryside, and there are quiet spots to sit in and contemplate the passing of the seasons. If you had to pick anywhere to represent a timeless English country location, here would be about as good a place to pick as any.

Another reason to visit is to stay at the main hotel in the village, The Old Swan and Minster Mill. It’s set around two distinct buildings, each with its own identity. The Old Swan, as the name suggests, is a cosily bijou inn, with the rooms above the downstairs pub striking a fine balance between luxury hotel comforts and more sedate charms. A typical room might have a ludicrously comfortable four poster bed, swish bathroom and little treats such as a miniature decanter of sloe gin. Minster Mill, by way of contrast, offers more modern rooms, but what some of them lose in old-fashioned cosiness they make up for with spectacular views over the grounds, which make for an excellent walk.

You’re almost certain to visit the Old Swan itself for dinner or lunch no matter where you’re staying, and it’s a delight to report that the food here is solidly authentic gastropub excellence. Starters of potted shrimp with aioli and Lyme bay scallops offer unflashy but delicious appetite-warmers, and main courses are of a conservative bent, such as fantastic sausages and mash and rack of Berkshire lamb. It’s also more than worth popping down for breakfast, which offers a solidly enjoyable range of all the victuals you’d expect from a traditional country inn. Those who are keen on the more relaxing things in life would be well advised to head to the Windrush Spa for a treatment; it’s also worth noting that 2012 is going to see several developments, including an entirely new spa complex and expanded dining room, both of which will enhance the experience even more.

The Old Swan and Mill, School Hill, Minster Lovell, OX29 0RN. www.oldswanandminstermill.com

Quintessentially travelled with First Great Western. For best fares and further details please see www.firstgreatwestern.co.uk

Sweeping through the Scottish countryside it is easy to see why Queen Victoria fell in love with the Highlands after her visit to Perthshire’s Taymouth Castle. Stepping out of the car which whisked me through the sunshine to the grand entrance, there are few, if any, places I would rather find myself.

The reason Scotland’s weather is necessarily unsettled is clear; if the sun were to shine every day it would be, quite simply, unfair. You can keep the Riviera; I would rather be in a sunny Scotland any day.

Think of the Scottish Highlands and your mind probably leaps to surging rivers, huge lochs and challenging golf courses all set amid stunning countryside. Well, with Taymouth Castle you’d not be far off the mark, although you may not expect the spectacle afforded by the row of shining Porsches from the Porsche Club which were parked outside the front door.

Today’s castle was built in the nineteenth century on the site of a much older incarnation and was the home of the Campbell family. Visited by Queen Victoria on one of her first trips to Scotland in 1842 (the suite she stayed in can still be visited today) she was astonished by the preternatural beauty of the area and later bought nearby Balmoral as a personal residence.

The castle fell into disrepair with much of it at best a shell, and at worst in danger of collapsing entirely. Now, however, it is undergoing intensive work with the aim of restoring it to former glories and turning it into a luxury boutique hotel complete with luxury rooms, spa and, eventually, a Michelin-starred restaurant.

The restoration is a superb example of what can be achieved when historic buildings are treated sympathetically. The risk with this type of work is always that the buildings will feel like theme parks, with the character and originality sucked from them leaving an ill-judged pastiche. Thankfully this particular pitfall has been avoided. The rooms feel authentic, the atmosphere real.

The estate’s extensive grounds are also being given a makeover. The golf course which runs through the grounds to be extended and brought up to championship standard with the help of Scottish professional golfer Stephen Gallacher.

The major development on the estate is the building of luxury residences, which will offer owners their own piece of this Scottish idyll. There are plans for more than 100 bespoke residences located to ensure the grounds do not lose their essential character. With access to all the castle’s future facilities as well as a management service, it’s sure to be a great way to enjoy all that Scotland can offer.

For more info, please visit – www.taymouth-castle.com