Middlethorpe Hall & Spa

If you  were to imagine a doll´s house, then expanded it, Alice in Wonderland-style, so that the dolls were actually real-life people and the tiny rooms of miniature accessories were actually fine works of art, then you’d get a good impression of Middlethorpe Hall. On arrival at the elegant old building, my bags were picked up, not by some giant-sized hand playing human dolls, but by a friendly porter, who led me inside and up the grand staircase to my room – a spacious and airy room, with a high ceiling and tall windows fringed by flowing drapes. The centrepiece was a grand wooden four-poster bed – quite possibly the biggest and most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in – beside which stood a sturdy writing table.

I could imagine the diarist Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, a former resident, sitting down to draft some elegant prose in such a room. Built in 1699, this William III country house later underwent a period of neglect after Montagu lived there, before being restored in recent times by the Historic House Hotels group. Located close to York racecourse, just a few miles out of the city centre, it’s well positioned for a bit of local sightseeing or a day watching the ‘sport of kings’. But on this occasion I just wanted to relax. Set in 20 acres of its own parkland, it’s a classic English retreat, charming and exclusive. Looking out from my bedroom onto the patio below, a few guests were enjoying afternoon tea in the sunshine, while from inside came the muffled murmur of others chatting over a gin and tonic in the cool drawing rooms, areas decorated with large portraits and finely-crafted period furniture. A gentle game of croquet on a secluded stretch of lawn was alluring, but instead I opted to test out the spa, housed in a pair of converted Edwardian cottages. Guests have unlimited use of the spa during their stay, so grabbing a towel and trunks I headed straight over.

Circling on my back in the cool water of the 40-foot pool, lolling in the frothy whirlpool and intermittently sweating it out in the steam room, I felt the stress of some hard weeks at the office ease away within just a few hours. Feeling much fresher, it was time to head back over to the main house for a quick change and then down for dinner, a strictly jacket-and-tie affair. The food was served by waiters on silver trays: foie gras is just a little rich for my taste, but it slipped down well with some fine wine. After dessert, I took a crisp moonlit walk across the large lawn, down to a little lake surrounded by bulrushes and shadowy trees. Strolling in the grounds under the silver clouds, childhood memories returned of Tom’s Midnight Garden. These may have been just my secret, just as they were Tom’s in the tale. Back at the house, rosy-red apples, rhubarb and assorted herbs had been planted in the walled kitchen gardens, while further on a converted complex of coach houses confirmed the feeling of a Victorian stately home, once lived in by masters and servants alike. In a way, we guests are the modern-day equivalent of the former, the assiduous staff the latter. After all, there’s nothing like a bit of pampered indulgence now and again. That’s true for both guys and dolls.