The view that says ‘...relax’

I don’t think I am alone in finding that car journeys with the other half often descend into a frosty silence – even if it is just an hour or so up the A419 and beyond to the northern edge of the Cotswolds.

This particular pre-bank holiday getaway was no exception, hampered partially by a breakdown just outside Cirencester which led to the bonnet being lifted and a fair amount of tinkering before continuing on. But missing that final left-turn towards the Farncombe Estate was probably the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“You were meant to go left there...” he piped up from the passenger seat – atlas open on his lap, one hand in the almost empty bag of Haribo, which was clearly the reason he hadn’t been paying attention.

I angrily jammed our overworked and overheated Mini into reverse and carried out a rather clumsy three point turn - watched on by a Fresian poking its head over the top of the hedge – and returned the way we had come.

There it was though - the sign we had both missed. I maintain though that he - as navigator - should have been paying attention and warned me that a junction of interest to us was looming.

It began to dawn on me that the morning of shooting we had planned for the following day maybe wasn’t the best idea.

But driving through the estate’s perimeter gates there was a quite remarkable shift in the atmosphere between us. All of a sudden we were faced with the most remarkable scene. Laid out before us was mile upon mile of green rolling countryside, bathing in early summer evening sunshine. It was so remarkable that the Mini was stopped (much to its relief) and we both jumped out, phones in hand to capture the truly magnificent landscape before us on camera.

Further down in the valley there was the sound of church bells, while closer by there was a field of cows (though hopefully they were not friendly with the Fresian up the road who had witnessed my driving-test failure of an attempt at a proper manoeuvre). There was a light evening breeze that was cooling, but didn’t hide the sun’s warmth. “This is what it is all about,” I murmured.

Jumping back in the car it was like being in a different world. That sense of relaxation that kicks in when you know you have reached your destination and you know that the only thing on the agenda now is enjoying a well-earned holiday.

It was a pleasant drive down the winding driveway of the estate to reach The Fish – which is to be found in the 400-acre estate home to sister hotels Foxhill Manor and Dormy House.

Nestled in the hill itself, The Fish is spread out over a number of areas and is described as a “quirky collection of hotel houses”, which sums up quite nicely the hamlet of buildings we found before us. Up top there is The Lodge and the newly opened restaurant (still 425ft above sea level) while a little way lower lies a former farmhouse which can sleep up to 12 guests. Already suitably impressed with what we had found we began discussing whether there were any family occasions we could convince to be held here.

We were staying in The Stables – a really quite attractive corner of buildings built in Cotswold stone with a hodgepodge roofline centred on a quad. Inside the foyer we were greeted rather unexpectedly by a Smeg fridge. Since this weekend was all about exploring, the bags were dropped and we curiously poked our head inside to find it contained a number of tiny bottles of milk. We were soon to discover no foil-topped cartons of long-life milk found lurking among the upmarket teabags in our room’s tea trays.

The themeing of The Fish may come as somewhat of a surprise to those who haven’t read up on it before arriving (at this stage we were still unaware why a lodge miles away from the coast, and a good hike from the nearest river was named The Fish, let alone why we weren’t greeted by horse brasses and Toby jugs). You have to look to the estate’s Scandinavian owners for the reason behind the interiors’ palate of greys, blues, greens and splashes of yellow – paired-off with Scandinavian-look retro furniture. And the fridge too. Only a region behind the stores that draw in millions of customers each year in search of flat-packed furniture would go that extra mile to think of having a fridge for the sole purpose of quenching a tired Englishman’s thirst for tea.

The restaurant – apparently a new addition to The Fish – certainly didn’t feel like it was being broken-in after less than two months, but rather that it was a well-oiled machine ticking over nicely and to rhythm. And the waiting staff were really quite something else - they seemed engaged in not only what they were doing, but also us as well, which I fear is something that is going to serve as a bit of a benchmark to future evenings out.

Within the large open plan restaurant there was a very serene atmosphere, and it was only after we were seated we realised quite how many people there were in there – which speaks volume not only for the venue’s intimate nature, but also how well it is doing to be quite so busy on a Thursday evening.

In the kitchen are executive chef Jon Ingram and head chef Carl Holmes who have drawn up an almost 1970s-style menu of surf and turf dishes with a modern twist to appeal to carnivores and seafood aficionados alike. They have a set focus on quality and provenance as well as working with fridges not freezers. Presumably there’s a whole row of Smeg fridges in their kitchen.

As well as offering up a delight of choice, the answer to The Fish’s name also became clear thanks to the menu. Medieval monks are said to have kept and cured their fish stocks in caves hewn into the hillside and the sloped pathway soon became known as Fish Hill, apparently. With our curiosity satisfied for a while we ordered, with my dining companion going for smoked salmon to begin, while I opted for the largest field mushrooms you have ever seen. Clearly there is something in the soil up here.

A snide remark about awaiting for the eponymous roof slates to arrive with our meals on was completely unfounded as The Fish surprised us again, opting for a really quite tasteful array of glazed pottery upon which to serve our quite exquisite meals. I feel we may have sold The Fish short on their star fish dishes, with him opting for a succulent steak while I went for belly pork paired with scallops. With a bottle of Rioja we were well on our way to quite idyllic evening.

It was then we noticed the couple at the end of our table discussing “The Instagram” as they put it. A flash from one of their iPhones later, some on-screen tapping and a quick over-the-shoulder glance from their waiter and they were presented with a bottle of wine and a mysterious bag of what we assumed was bath salts. Again, our curiosity piqued (partially by the scent of free alcohol) we were told that The Fish was encouraging its diners to share their evening on Instagram. Hastily assembling our wine glasses, water jug and the mood-candle we set up a prizewinning shot and found ourselves rewarded with a bottle and what turned out to be fish-rub. A nice touch, we thought.

Dessert earned our waitress even further points after she secured us the last of the Eaton Mess that the chef had rustled up for some gluten intolerant guests earlier that evening , despite it not being on the menu. Though it was a close-call – the Cotswold cheeseboard looked incredible.

Our return to The Lodge the following morning proved our dining experience the night before had not just been a one-off and we were treated to a slap-up full English cooked breakfast, with tantalising Continental options on offer if we could have found room. The hearty breakfast had us prepared for our morning activity of shooting though.

We had had plenty of activities to choose from in the weeks leading up to our stay, and had settled on a morning of target practice over other high-adrenaline activities such as quad biking, Segway safaris, archery, clay pigeon shooting and even golf at the Broadway Golf Club next door.

Our competitive edges abated for now, and neither of us sporting an injury from any ‘stray’ pellets, we lounged awhile in The Lodge’s bar and enjoyed the crackling fire. Despite it being the end of May the Scandinavian-style log burner didn’t seem out of place, although I can only imagine how cosy it must become during those long winter months.

We had to be almost torn away and we left wishing we had factored in more time for a stay there, but unfortunately we had made plans to visit friends further up country - which meant another long car journey. So inevitably we stopped at the top of the hill on our way out to admire the view and take in its calming effects – just to be on the safe side.

----

The Fish on The Farncombe Estate is located just a half an hour walk from the postcard pretty village of Broadway.

It has 67 guestrooms spread over a variety of outbuildings, with one night’s stay beginning at £89.

www.thefishhotel.co.uk. 01386 858000.