Charm of the Cotswolds

Country walks, fab food and warm fires await at the dog-friendly Wild Rabbit, finds Angela Ward

Ayear ago, I couldn’t have imagined planning a trip around the requirements of a tiny, demanding, utterly dependent, tenpound family member. Yet here I am, with Margot the miniature dachshund curled on my knee, Googling “best places in Britain to holiday with dogs”.

Margot was unplanned. A surprise, but a welcome one. We took the decision to re-home her in the summer and within 24 hours she was merrily piddling on our rug, and we were besotted. Being only two hands tall, she slotted into our lives rather well. But, but, holidays.

Getting a dog means making changes, and holidays are a big one. Rather than lament the loss of a spontaneous week in the sun, however, we were keen to embrace the sort of holiday which is enhanced by the presence of a loyal pooch.

We wanted Margot sitting under wonky pub tables sniffing out scraps, trotting along next to us in the mud on long afternoon walks, curled by the stove in the evening. And so we find ourselves in the Wild Rabbit in Kingham in the Cotswolds.

The Wild Rabbit is all honeycoloured stone and big, soot-stained fireplaces, warm nooks, cold pints and bar staff eager to tickle Margot behind the ears. A large jar of dog treats on the bar seals the deal for her.

There are 12 rustic-luxe rooms, some of which are dog-friendly. So dog-friendly, in fact, that dog beds and bowls are available to borrow. Their owners aren’t neglected in that regard either; wellies and bicycles are also made available to guests.

It’s that sort of detail, that sort of devotion to the very best of country living which the Wild Rabbit is famed for. It’s the brainchild of Lady Carole Bamford, who is something of a powerhouse in this corner of the Cotswolds. She set up the nearby Daylesford Organic; a farm shop, cafe and restaurant which takes country chic to dizzying new levels.

She has a knack for knowing what us city mice want when it comes to yanking on our wellies and traipsing off to the countryside, and she applied this innate understanding to the Wild Rabbit when she opened it four years ago. It’s full of contrasts. A cosy pub where up-for-the-weekend city dwellers mingle with locals. A Michelin-starred restaurant which manages to be as laid-back as it is, well, Michelin-starry. Rooms which are luxurious yet homely.

We’re not in a room at all however, but in The Beehive, a self-contained cottage with its own living room, neat little kitchen area and wood-burning stove. Homemade biscuits await us in the kitchen, Bamford products in the bathroom.

There is little motivation for us to leave, beyond tripping down the drive for a pint in the pub, but the walks from the door are so giddyingly picturesque – with or without canine company – that leave we do.

A must is a pilgrimage to Daylesford Organic; a jolly 30-40 minute trot along a farm track. There’s ‘dog parking’ right outside, while pooches are permitted in some areas. Imagine if Harrods did farm shops and you’ll begin to get an idea of what to expect. The organic produce is otherworldly, the homeware shopping an exercise in good taste.

They offer workshops in everything from stargazing to spoon carving, while the Bamford Haybarn Spa is a temple of serenity right next door. Resplendent in 50 shades of white, the aesthetic is pure, distilled relaxation; bleached timber, wicker, slate, sandstone and driftwood, with a delicate seasoning of farmhouse chic throughout.

While Margot practises her downward dog at home, I book in to a yoga class. In addition to treatments, there’s a great selection of drop-in yoga, pilates and meditation classes which can be booked individually, for £15-£20. I bookended a serene class with a breakfast smoothie in

Clockwise from main: one of the bedrooms in The Beehive cottage; the living area; outside the Wild Rabbit

Daylesford Organic and a herbal tea in the Haybarn’s orchard-adjacent relaxation room. Bliss.

Back at the Wild Rabbit, and I’m keen to undo all my hard work in the yoga studio, so we book in for a meal in the dining room. I’m curious as to how they’ll manage to pull off the high-low mixing of fine dining with the atmosphere of a homely local inn.

An open kitchen, plenty of jolly noise from the adjacent pub and a moratorium on white tablecloths sees to that. The atmosphere is decidedly warm and casual, though the food is unapologetically elegant (my cevenne onions are served with “Parmesan air”).

Sated, and suitably zen from our yogic exertions, we head next door to meet Margot for a pint in the pub. She gets her doggie treat from the bar while our pints are being poured and trots to the fireside to enjoy it. We pull out a map and plan the following day’s walk, which will no doubt end up right back here in this idyllic pub, by this fire, a contended sausage dog at our feet. n

Margot gets her doggie treat from the bar while ourpintsarebeingpoured