The Fox & Anchor, Smithfields, London

Wednesday, 17.50
Although it might seem like our life is all parties, even we have to work sometimes. Finding ourselves with meetings in The City on the same day, Monsieur 2 asked his P.A. - we couldn’t live without her - to find us a hotel near the Square Mile with a bit of character. She’s booked us into The Fox & Anchor, a ‘pub with rooms’ opposite Smithfield Market.

As we arrive, first impressions aren’t particularly welcoming - it’s a pub alright, and on this warm evening suited City drinkers are spilling onto the pavement outside. There’s a door to one side marked ‘Hotel’ but finding it locked, we have to elbow our way through the drinkers to the bar to enquire where to check in. The answer is: right there, so while the guy next to us orders two pints of lager and a packet of crisps, we’re filling out the registration card. It feels rather awkward.

18.00
As we’re taken upstairs, impressions don’t improve much; the staircase is dark and dingy and the carpet's fraying, not at all in keeping with the pub itself which from what we saw looked well-maintained. It’s not the end of the world but little things do matter!

18.05
We’re shown into our room, the Charterhouse. The bed looks large and comfy - always a plus - and we clock a Bose sound system, but otherwise it’s pretty basic. The furniture’s standard hotel stuff - not in keeping with the old world feel of the leaded windows, which on closer inspection are dirty - and the paint on the door is chipped. It’s fine, but basic, and doesn’t feel as luxurious as the very slick website had led us to expect. The bathroom’s better though, with an attractive roll-top tub and a drench shower, two of our favourite things. There's also a good selection of generous-sized products from Miller Harris, which we love.

18.15
We decide a cup of tea’s in order and search high and low for the tea tray; eventually we find it - bizarrely hidden away in the bottom of the wardrobe.

At least once tea’s made there’s a nice chaise longue at the end of the bed for us to sit and sip it on. We love a chaise longue.

19.12
Supper time, so we go down to the pub and take a table in a charming, wood-panelled back room. The menu is robustly British with some modern touches; Monsieur 2 sums it up as ‘pub grub deluxe’ and he’s spot on.

We both go for fish starters, potted smoked mackerel for me, terrine of Scottish smoked salmon for him. He’s sure it’s the same Gary Rhodes recipe that’s his staple dinner party starter, and from the looks of it he’s right - no bad thing, as it’s delicious, as is my mackerel.
Monsieur 2’s salad from the daily specials - chicken and peppers with mixed leaves - is fine but nothing, well, special. I do better with mutton t-bones and spring vegetable broth; the meat has fantastic depth of flavour, and the replacement broth the chef kindly whips up when I spot the dreaded celery in the first version is absolutely wonderful. For puds, we enjoy some British cheeses and ice cream-filled profiteroles. A bottle of Pinot Grigio rosé from the pub’s owner’s own English vineyard is a lovely unusual drop.

21.20
Food finished, we should probably head for bed, but can’t resist popping round the corner for a nightcap at The Zetter Townhouse...

23.15
Ooops, naughty Messieurs; we went for one and stayed for a couple. Now it’s time for bed; and as we're in Smithfields, we fall asleep to the rhythmic hum of the lorries delivering their meaty wares to Smithfields market across the road.

Thursday 07.15
After a rain shower over our plush bath, a spot of breakfast is in order before we head off. The menu’s very ‘blokey’, as are the customers at this time of day - City boys (and indeed, a few girls) having power meetings, looking like teams from The Apprentice planning a challenge. We feel a bit out of place in our morning casuals but our waitress is super-friendly (as too was our waitress at dinner last night) and quickly brings the coffee we need to get started.

We decide against the awesome-sounding City Boy breakfast - basically all the meat you can eat, with a pint of stout on the side - and instead devour steak and eggs with good crispy hash browns.

08.37
As we check out - if you can call handing a key back across the bar ‘checking out’ - and leave The Fox & Anchor, our lasting impression is of a place with good intentions, and great food, but which doesn’t quite gel as a whole. It is a pub with rooms, and a perfectly nice one, but it could up its ante by focusing on the finer details, and even unlocking the door marked 'Hotel' for a separate and more refined entrance for their guests.

N: Fox and Anchor
A: 115 Charterhouse Street, Smithfield, London EC1M 6AA
W: www.foxandanchor.com
T: 020 7250 1300 - or to book: 0121 616 3614
E: bookingscentral@hotelduvin.com
Our rating: ***

The Zetter Townhouse, Clerkenwell, London

Unassuming and oh so chic 

Sunday 6pm
The taxi drops us at the discreet pale blue door of a grand double-fronted Georgian townhouse on quiet, cobbled St John’s Square in Clerkenwell.

From outside, nothing gives away that this is a hotel, but from the name elegantly engraved on the door we know we’re in the right place.

Through sash windows we see a candle-lit room packed with people talking animatedly; it looks like it could be a particularly fabulous private party. Fortunately, we’re invited!

Eccentric and holding no punches

6.03pm
The eccentrically-decorated room is unlike any hotel lobby we’ve ever seen.

Crammed with bric-a-brac, taxidermy and antiques, this is a very cool bar that doubles as a reception for the hotel above.

We’re greeted by the very chic duty manager and taken up in the horsehair-lined lift - we said the decor was eccentric - to the first floor.


6.10pm
Our room is the stunning Townhouse Apartment, and oh boy it’s a beauty.

At one end, an enormous bed is swathed in luxurious quilts and topped with masses of pillows while at the other there’s a lounge area with beautiful period furniture.

Our very own Lounge Area

There’s also a selection of our favourite magazines - it’s like they knew we were coming!

More of the same please!

In the middle of the room there’s a writing desk, and on that a handwritten welcome note and a plate of fresh fruit - just the kind of thoughtful personal touches we love. We kick our shoes off, climb onto our vast bed and feed each other strawberries for a while...

Pleasures come with the personal touch

6.30pm
Although we’re booked in for cocktails downstairs later, we decide to see what the mini-bar has to offer and it’s certainly stocked for enjoyment! As well as champagne, wine and spirits - at sensible prices  - there are classic cocktails mixed by the bar team and sealed in beautiful flasks. We call for a cocktail tray and within minutes we’ve got a shaker, glasses and ice and are ready to go. All that’s left to do is stir and serve.

My Negroni and Monsieur 2’s Martini are top-notch, and a table by one of the tall windows overlooking the square below is the perfect place to enjoy them.

Atmospheric and full of character

7.05pm
We head down to the bar and settle into the deep comfy couch that’s been reserved for us. We’re given the list of 12 house cocktails and informed that the bar staff - trained by world-renowned mixologist Tony Conigliaro no less - can rustle us up anything else we might fancy. We work our way through about half of the list, both especially loving a syrupy, rum-based Master At Arms.

7.52pm
Time for food. Everything on the menu, devised by legendary chef Bruno Loubet, sounds fantastic so we order a selection. Little merguez with chick peas, lemon-juice drenched griddled halloumi and earthy roasted vegetable dip with thin slices of toasted baguette prove perfect for soaking up the potent potions we’re drinking.

Beautiful bathroom, with plenty of REN treats

9.12pm
Back upstairs we uncork a bottle of wine and run ourselves a deep bubbly bath using the gorgeous REN products provided. The tap’s at the side, so no fighting over who gets which end either!

10.07pm
Finally freeing ourselves from the comfort of the tub, we wrap ourselves in fluffy robes and flop on the bed. Monsieur 2 spots that there’s an in-house DVD library at our disposal but let’s just say we decide to make our own entertainment instead...


Monday 7.40am
We’ve slept so well and so long that we’re up with the lark despite not having to be anywhere. I decide to fix us some coffee and not only do we have a Nespresso machine in the room, there’s also a milk frother for making perfect cappuccinos! Such a lovely start to the day.

The Zetter Hotel

8.20am
Expecting breakfast to be served in the lounge, we find that we actually have to go across to the main Zetter Hotel for it. It’s no great hardship but it feels a little odd to be leaving ‘our’ Townhouse to eat! The decor isn't as homely and staff aren’t quite as friendly here either, but our full English breakfasts are still enjoyable. Breakfast devoured, we grab the day’s newspapers and head back to our room for a last couple of hours before check-out.




11.09am
A cheeky cappuccino, a reviving drench shower and a last roll on that sumptuous bed and we’re - reluctantly - out the door. In our fantasy alternative existence - the one where we win the EuroMillions on a quintuple rollover week - we’d live in the country and maintain a grand London townhouse for entertaining when in the capital. Until that day comes, we’re very happy to make do with The Zetter Townhouse.

N: The Zetter Townhouse
T: 020 7324 4567
A: 49-50 St John's Square, London EC1V 4JJ
W: thezettertownhouse.com
Our rating: 4.5 out of 5

The Hoxton Urban Lodge, Hoxton, East London

Shoreditch, London
Monsieur and I love the nightlife of London’s edgy East End but not the epic journey home, so just for once we’ve decided to treat ourselves to a night in a hotel. The Hoxton on Great Eastern Street is a great location, runs regular £1 sales on rooms, and bills itself as an ‘Urban Lodge’ - a home away from home. Perfect, we thought, let's give it a try.

Friday, 6.35
Entering from the street, The Hoxton feels more like a cool club than a hotel - the lobby is teeming with people, mostly trendy Shoreditch types but quite a few City suits too. At the Reception desk we’re greeted by a friendly jeans-clad girl who runs through what’s included in our (very reasonable, pre-paid online) room rate: WiFi, an hour’s UK landline calls and a light Pret breakfast. Amazing!

6.42

Oh how we needed that bed

The leather-lined lift sets the tone for the rest of the hotel - sexy, dark, a little louche. As we get out on the fifth floor and make our way along the moodily-lit corridor it feels like we’re in a David Lynch movie. Our room is large, light and plush without being luxurious, feeling more like a private apartment than a hotel.

Cute notes around our room - we don't mind if we do!

We’re certainly made to feel at home by the quirky signs around the room; they’re more like the kind of helpful Post-Its a friend would leave you than the usual stiff instructions we see in hotels.


Another homely touch is the free mineral water and fresh milk in the fridge to which we’re cheerfully encouraged to ‘Just help yourself’. We like.

7.00
The view out over the City is superb but we don’t have too long to enjoy it - we’re booked in for dinner at Hoxton Grill downstairs. The restaurant is located off the lobby of The Hoxton but is operated by Soho House Group, and it shows in both the decor (which reminds us of the dining room at Soho House Berlin) and the super-polished but informal service. The menu’s great, a selection of modern American diner favourites with some brasserie classics.

Loved the Hoxton Grill, and our flirt with the waiter

Monsieur 2 keeps it simple with tomato soup followed by steak and chips, both excellent - the soup flecked with shreds of fresh basil, the steak a 10oz rump cooked exactly medium-rare just how he likes it. I try salt beef hash - thick slices of good beef on a fat potato cake, topped with a poached egg - and tiger prawn and chorizo gumbo. I love the glossy, spicy sauce and huge shell-on prawns, but I’m not convinced that the slices of thin sausage aren’t frankfurter rather than chorizo. We’re glad we let our gorgeous, flirty waiter talk us into dessert; the raspberry ripple cheesecake and ultra-decadent banana fudge sundae are fantastic.

9.08
Stuffed and a little drowsy we decide to revive with a shower back in our room. The sleek slate-tiled bathroom has a gorgeous rainfall shower, just what we need to bring us back to life before heading out into the night...

9.40
The gay scene in this part of London is small but perfectly formed and as edgily unconventional as the area’s fashionable population. We start off at the George & Dragon on Hackney Road, a bric-a-brac stuffed pub playing great music, then move on to the Nelson’s Head up the road. Finally we head for The Joiners Arms, the cool, grimy bar-club. We love the place and only stagger out when the lights go up.

3.16 (ahem)

Quirky touches around our room made us feel right at home

Staying at The Hox was definitely a good idea - we’re falling into bed fifteen minutes after leaving The Joiners not the usual hour-plus. Looks like we’re not the only ones to have sampled the area’s nocturnal delights - many doors on our corridor are displaying the fun ‘Go Away!’ swing-tags and there’s some serious moaning-and-groaning coming from a few doors down...



Saturday, 10.20

Our Breakfast Bags were very welcome first thing.

Thank God we only have to reach out the door to their dedicated hook for our breakfast bags. Granola, juice and a banana, plus fresh coffee from the in-room selection, take the edge off our hangovers.

11.17
After a long shower, we’re feeling human again and decide to brave the journey home. Checking out, we realise it’s only the second time we’ve needed to interact with The Hoxton’s staff as guests are left so completely to their own devices. It’s in keeping with the home-from-home ethos but maybe feels a little impersonal.

11.23
As we leave, the lobby’s just as buzzing as when we arrived; The Hoxton rocks right around the clock. We’ll certainly consider it for our next night out up East and definitely be back for more fab food and flirting with the staff at Hoxton Grill.

N: The Hoxton
T: 020 75501000
A: 81 Great Eastern Street, London, EC2A 3HU
W: hoxtonhotels.com
Our rating:

Join us on Twitter: @deuxmessieurs
Learn more about The Hoxton's £1 sales at hoxtonhotels.com

Stratton's Hotel, Swaffham, Norfolk

Sunday 16.00 When by happy coincidence a planned visit to Monsieur 1’s family in Norfolk coincided with Monsieur 2’s birthday, we decided to extend the weekend and treat ourselves to a night somewhere fabulous after our few days en famille. We asked around for recommendations and one name kept coming up - Stratton’s.

Strattons Hotel

Tucked away up a narrow close off the market place which Swaffham is known for, Stratton’s resembles a small country estate - an imposing main villa, a couple of attractive outbuildings and a cafe-delicatessen, all within immaculate landscaped grounds. It feels delightfully secluded, despite being in the heart of the town. We’re immediately relaxed  - and we’ve not even checked in yet.

The Red Room has an open fire and a private courtyard garden

16.05

A couldn’t-be-friendlier receptionist, Michaela, welcomes us and walks us through a comfortably-furnished lounge - where one of the hotel’s three adorable resident cats is curled up peacefully on a chair - and shows us to The Red Room. We gasp as we walk in; it’s amazing. There’s a vast oak four-poster bed on a dais, a lounge area, a tea table with armchairs, a library for goodness’sake...I rack my brain to think of where I’ve seen a bedroom this opulent before, and then it comes to me: Chatsworth. When Michaela says “And here’s the key to your private courtyard garden” I’m already wishing we’d booked more than one night.

16.12
We make tea, slump on one of the three sofas and put our feet up. While Monsieur 2 flicks through the TV channels and logs the iPad onto the free WiFi, I read the hotel guide to find out what amenities there are. It turns out there’s no bar in the hotel although drinks are available from the (well-stocked) mini-bar or in the lounge; instead we decide to stroll around Swaffham and find a pub.

16.45

Bustling during the week and on market day, Saturday, today there’s hardly a soul to be seen in Swaffham. We head to The Greyhound (which appears in the TV series Kingdom) for a pint; it’s not exactly welcoming so we drink up quickly, grab a bottle of wine from the one open shop and head back to the haven of The Red Room.

18.20

Plush Bathtime Pleasures

With plenty of time before dinner we decide to take advantage of the 7’ roll-top bath in the bonkers tented bathroom (it looks like something out of Cleopatra) as it’s rare to find a tub long enough to comfortably accommodate both messieurs. We soak and soothe until our toes turn wrinkly, then dry ourselves off and dress for dinner.

20.00

It’s just a few steps from our room to The Rustic, Stratton’s restaurant. We’re greeted warmly by restaurant manager Charlie and given a table by the open fire. A fabulous meal follows; chef Sam uses only the best local produce and it shows. Monsieur 2’s leek and potato soup is creamy and seasoned just right while my duck pastrami and turnip sauerkraut is a clever riff on a Reuben sandwich. We then tuck into a Swannington beef burger - served with decadent ‘thrice cooked dripping chips’ and home-made ketchup - and sea trout with lovely, salty King’s Lynn cockles. To finish, I have ‘Millionaire’s shortbread’, a delicious deconstructed version of my favourite bakery treat, while Monsieur 2 polishes off a rhubarb trifle. To drink, how can we resist a bottle of The Rustic’s house wine - Domaine Gayda?

Oh Strattons

Fit for a ...

22.30

Thank goodness we don’t have far to stagger - we’re stuffed, not to mention a little tipsy. Back in The Red Room we draw the thick heavy curtains and climb into our luxurious four-poster.

Monday 09.07

We’ve slept like two particularly contented logs and after a cuppa to wake us up it’s back to The Rustic for breakfast. As well as self-service cereals and granola, some home-made, we’re given a choice of cooked breakfasts and go for the full English. Everything’s as good as dinner the night before, a perfect end to our stay and start to the day.

10.25

It’s always a good sign when you’re sad to check out of a hotel and that’s definitely the case as we return our room key. The staff at Stratton’s obviously care about every guest so much that I feel they’re even a little sorry to see us go. As we walk back down the drive to the coach stop that’s conveniently just outside, we look back at the beautiful place where we’ve spent a fabulous night and know that we’ll be back.

N: Strattons Hotel

T: 01760 723 845

E: enquiries@strattonshotel.com
A: Strattons, Ash Close, Swaffham, Norfolk, PE37 7NH
W: strattons-hotel.co.uk/

Our rating: *****

B+B Belgravia, London

Thoroughly Modern Boutique Belgravia

Saturday 2.25pm
Monsieur 2 was decidedly grouchy by the time our train pulled into Victoria station. It was just under an hour from Brighton, but sitting opposite a group of teenage thugs building towers out of empty beer cans was more than his delicate constitution could negotiate.

We bumped our suitcases on wheels along the uneven pavements from the station and up one of the stucco-laden but rather soulless sidestreets, like rows of terraced cupcakes wistfully wishing for an afternoon tea. I came over all Victorian and thought of crinolines, hansom cabs and liveried footmen scurrying behind me with my cases; Monsieur 2 dropped his mobile phone and watched the batteries roll into the gutter, swearing effusively and, I think, rather unnecessarily.

By the time we reached the B+B Belgravia, I was questioning my choice in men while he questioned his choice of mobile phone providers. The hotel sign was so discreet as to be missable, but I took a deep breath and depressed the buzzer, concerned that one false move from inside could result in hysteria at best and homicide at worst.

But we were pleasantly surprised by this B+B which throws off the shackles of swirly carpets, china dogs on mantlepieces and quaint watercolours of yesteryear England. There is no dodgy plumbing or flowery bedlinen here: this is boutique Britain: calm, friendly, relaxed, airy and light. The 24-hour lounge has free WiFi and an industrial-size espresso machine for trysts at 2am. Not surprising that it's booked up months in advance.

So Sex and the City

We crashed in our huge room - all spotlights, white sheets and designer toiletries. I fully expected to bump into Mr Big from Sex and the City in the bathroom, although Monsier 2 didn't see the funny side. I catapulted myself at the enormous bed and ended up face-down in high-thread-count count while he logged onto the internet and tried to find the nearest Hugo Boss store. He's funny that way.

3.43pm
After a power-nap, food beckoned, and we ventured out - and discovered this was the road that once played home to a clutch of campery in the form of Edith Evans, Noel Coward and Ian Fleming - and still hosts Joan Collins and Sarah Brightman! There were a few spruced up traditional pubs on street corners but we stretched our legs and in ten minutes were standing on Sloane Square, and found a little Italian place a few steps along the King's Road. Prawns friend in butter and garlic; a good Montrachet and my man. Perfection.

Back in the hotel room, Monsieur 2 had slipped into his cotton striped pyjamas and looked all the world like some '30s throwback, magically making a wee box of Patchi chocolates appear from behind his back. Very romantic. Slept like a babe.

The Perfect Breakfast Affair

11.34am
Breakfast was very pleasant, if not slightly surreal. I adore B+B breakfasts - a clutch of people from all over brought together for half an hour, all slightly embarassed and sizing each other up. It felt like supping in a branch of the Conran Shop, very sleek and shiny, lots of high stools and trendy mismatched crockery. Muesli, orange juice, yoghurt... oh, go on, bring on the full English!

To work off the excesses we borrowed a couple of pushbikes from the B+B and gingerly made our way through the streets. I hadn't riden for years, but as they say, it was just like riding a bike, and we soon picked up speed. Monsieur 2 was a little reckless and cut in front of taxi drivers on principle; after about a minute and a half, I think there was an APB out on us. On home turf at last! Harrods, Harvey Nics and lovely, lovely Sloane Street. Gucci me, Prada me! Now, goddam you!

The tricky bit was, of course, cycling back with five large bags apiece. Mine got totally mangled in the spokes, and I needed to pull over next to a dry cleaners and sort myself out - then wheel the thing back to the B+B along the pavement. Wanted to throw the bike into the gutter and set fire to it.
B+B Belgravia
64-66 Ebury Street
Belgravia
London SW1W 9QD
T: 020 7259 8570
E: info@bb-belgravia
W: bb-belgravia.com

Our rating: ****

Hotel Pelirocco, Brighton, West Sussex

Thursday, 5pm
Monsieur 2 and I were rocketing towards Brighton on the Thameslink, and since we managed to cadge one of the table seats, thought we’d make the most of it with a game of poker. Sadly, the ability to spot a seventeenth-century pewter bedpan at 100 paces doesn’t translate into the agile brain of a cardsharp. And every time I chewed on my cardboard cup of coffee, he snarled “Okay! Okay!” He seemed to think that going on to win the game was clever; I thought it was downright cheeky.

Pulling into Brighton was a joy. I love the smell of the sea, the way that the sunlight makes the stucco buildings shine, the tacky little pleasure shops and ice cream stalls along the pier. It’s so English, so nostalgic. Monsieur 2 was curious, but still professed that a bottle of Entre Deux Mers in a hilltop town overlooking the Mediterranean is a superior experience.

We ambled for 15 minutes down to Regency Square – and it took us a couple of circuits to locate the Pelirocco, so low-key is the signage. But low-key is not a description that fits the interior: it’s less a riot of colour and more a downright revolution. I signed us in on a pink-topped counter while Monsieur 2 copped a snook at the semi- (and in some cases, wholly) pornographic pop art around the walls. When the Independent on Sunday declared, “your granny wouldn’t like it”, they certainly had a point. Monsieur 2 pursed his lips puritanically.

Our Soul Supreme Room

5.08pm
I don’t think a hotel room has ever made us laugh out loud before – but the sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll world of the Pelirocco made us squeal. Each of the hotel’s 19 rooms are themed around either music or sex, so you can choose from The Pin Up Parlour, a hip-hop room and the ultimate dirty weekend suite, the Play Room, which combines kitsch, burlesque and raunchy in its décor.
We’re in the Soul Supreme, a shrine to Motown, with dark walls and satin bedcovers,
LP-shaped cushions and a kitschy pink record player to blare out the Motown. We set ‘Songs In The Key Of Life’ a-spinning and let Stevie Wonder do the talking as we Monsieur does a very curious groove. He claims it is pure 70s; I’d say it’s pure oddness.

Novelties included Record-Shaped Cushions

8.27pm 
We dozed off to ‘Sexual Healing’ on the sumptuously soft king size bed – and it was only after half an hour of listening to the needle going round and round that we agreed to do a bit of hunter-gathering. Searching for a room service menu, we found that food wasn’t served in the room, and that the room service menu featured a bawdy range of straight and gay soft-core DVDs, Durex-branded condoms and various adult toys. With two hours advance notice they can even lay on in-room massages and beauty treatments – for one or two!

Instead, we popped down to the hotel’s Playstation bar for a tipple, and to check out the other guests – and to sample the Pelirocco cocktail of Absolut vodka, chambord and fresh lime. Got chatting to a couple from Leeds – an accountant and a car valet – and ended up hitting some seedy pubs in Kemp Town before clubbing at Revenge.

9.15am
We make our way downstairs to breakfast and find ourselves in the company of several other rather dishevelled but contented-looking couples (all straight, it must be said, but no-one bats an eyelid).  No sign of our friends from last night, although we only made it back to the hotel at 4.30pm.
Monsieur 2 plumps for a fruit platter followed by boiled egg and soldiers; I’m absolutely ravenous so I go for the full English – cooked to order and perfectly so.  By the time I was tucking into a couple of rounds of toast and my eighth coffee, our fellow revellers appeared. Well, I thought I looked bad in the morning. Monsieur 2 pointed out that the light of day can do wicked things.

11.58am
We stayed in our room until the very last minute, dozing, lounging, giggling… well, you get the picture. Only the draw of the Pier, the Lanes, buying some rock and – for Le Monsieur – a visit to the mock-Chinese world of the Pavilion galvanised us into any form of action.

When we returned the keys, I swear there was a cheeky knowing glint in the manager’s eye as he asks if we enjoyed our stay. We might not have seen anything quite like the Pelirocco before, but you can bet your bottom dollar there’s little the folks here haven’t seen in their time!

Hotel Pelirocco
T: 01273 327055
E: info@hotelpelirocco.co.uk
W: hotelpelirocco.co.uk
Our rating: ***
A: 10 Regency Square, Brighton, West Sussex BN1 2FG

Berkeley House, Tetbury, Gloucestershire

Friday, 11.30pm
Hip, hip, hoo-bloody-ray! Paul and Andrew are finally tying the knot, and about time too! Paul was M's best pal when he first ventured over the Channel, and I met Andrew in a taxi queue at 5.30am after a heavy night of clubbing. I say it was Andrew. It could have been the Pope for all I know.

Anyway, Monsieur 2 and I now take personal responsibility for their blissful union and, along with eight other pals, are heading SW for a weekend of good food, good wine and great company. We're bound for Berkeley House, a Georgian townhouse Prince Charles’s stomping ground, Tetbury. It's supposed to be tranquil and relaxed affair, but Ralph - our token Brazilian, who makes Marguerita Pracatan look like a school librarian - is coming, so let's not hold our breath for tranquility.

Generally, we can't wait to see the old boys again, although Monsieur 2's feeling a little apprehensive after the incident in Shrewsbury involving Colin and the combi- boiler. Still we packed the boot with generous quantities from the wine cellar (le mini vacance is a 'self-catering' joint) which rattled alarmingly as we began our journey, turning left onto the Cromwell Road.

2.15
Ralph was the first out of the door, followed by Colin, Lisa and her nearest and dearest Rupert. Paul and Andrew were apparently upstairs shouting at each other: pre-wedding nerves, perhaps? [M: It made a change from it being us.] Cheeky.

2.55
Lisa's just escorted us round the premises, giving a blow-by-blow account of the design (she's an interior designer). This place has certainly got the wow factor. Run by Lena Proudlock, a Swedish photographer and designer, the house (and its Coach House, Orangery and Bay Tree apartment opposite – all of which can be rented) has been featured in Vogue, Elle and Homes & Gardens. Its décor its drool-inducing. Terrifically discreet, but deliciously luxurious.

Plenty of room for Lounging

 

Decked out largely in black and denim (trust me – it works!), there are enormous black fireplaces, denim-studded chairs and black sofas, offset to perfection by high ceilings, cosy shutters, and oversized hangings of Proudlock’s photography. Drama, pathos and texture galore.

Oh to have a Kitchen like this one!

The stunningly modern stainless steel kitchen opens up into a conservatory-type space leading onto the garden, a careful Baroque symphony of clean-cut quadrant lines. Venture further and we located our home for the weekend. The Orangery. Ralph, our master chef for the weekend, was eying up the Aga, whilst my dear M began plonking his 'plonk' into the fridge. Plonk maybe the wrong word for carefully chosen vintages, but I know the word grates on him like fingernails on a blackboard, so I always use it. Aren't I mean.

Master Bedroom, Berkeley House

Lounge Space in the Orangery

The hub of the house is the gorgeous sitting room - or Media Room, as it's know - with a kitchenette for midnight Mac-based feasts! I was rather envious of the master bedroom in the house, with its plasam screen television and generous en suite, but who am I to complain when Monsieur 2 and I have our very own private quarters!

The house can be rented with or without The Orangery, and since we have a surplus of numbers, we volunteered to sleep there. Admittedly we were swayed by the seven-foot four-poster bed and wetroom with a showerhead six times the size of ours at home. But who's one for details!

Friday, 6.25pm
Monsieur 2 and I have helped ourselves to the black bathrobes provided and are about to indulge in a Molton Brown extravaganza courtesy of the owner before we join the throng for dinner, which, incidentally, Monsieur 2 is helping prepare: a French feast of steak tartare, dauphine potatoes and steamed veg laced with rosemary. He takes this all very seriously, and despite one rather heated interlude over the seasoning Ralph and his new sous chef emerged from the kitchen beaming with pride.

Saturday, 9.35am
A glorious evening last night, although feeling as stuffed as a pot-bellied pig. Monsieur 2 lingered in the shower for as long as possible, and emerged looking refreshed and devilishly good-looking. We made our way across the garden to the main house, and tucked into croissants and coffee – while Ralph gave us the run-down of the day.

The ceremony was taking place at 1pm, followed by a huge lunch, and then the real fun begins: horse-riding followed by a hot-air trip over Gloucstershire's finest countryside. (Tomorrow, he promises, will be less frenetic, with a lie-in and a visit to the Highgrove estate for lunch with HRH; failing that, brunch and a spot of organic shopping.)

Saturday, 4.38pm
The ceremony was truly touching. Andrew and Paul looked beautifully groomed and very much in love. Even the dishwasher beeping during the vows didn’t deter from the sense of occasion, although Lisa and I did get the giggles, at which point M gave me a withering look. Don’t think he’ll be proposing this weekend.

Sunday 2.30pm
Just finished brunch and we’re having a quick whizz around with the vacuum cleaner, and clearing up the empty bottles. Don’t know where they all came from. (Note, must cut down on drinking!). Berkeley House can provide a live-in ‘house girl’, but the consensus was why bother when we could spend the money on food and wine instead!
Just enough time for a whistle-stop tour of Bath - Monsieur 2 was keen on the idea of visiting William Morris’s home and the second-hand bookshops, Lisa wanted to swing by the Beaufort Polo Club, and Paul and Ralph wanted to ramble through the Westonbirt Arboretum. Bath it was.

N: Berkeley House
T: 01666 500277
E: lenaproudlock@me.com
W: lenaproudlockescapes.com
Our rating: ****
A: 16 The Chipping, Tetbury, Gloucestershire GL8 8ET