Our recent sojourn to Dormy House Hotel was, in many ways, the quintessential Cotswold escape—equal parts refinement, repose and restorative indulgence. Perched high on the Farncombe Estate, just above the honey-stone village of Broadway, this 17th-century farmhouse, so gracefully reimagined through a multi-million-pound refurbishment by Todhunter Earle and Tony D’Alton, offers more than simply a stay; it offers an atmosphere. The Scandi-country chic interiors soften the architectural gravitas of the oak-panelled rooms, with roaring log fires and sumptuous, low-lit alcoves creating a mood that is at once elegant and disarmingly comfortable. It is a rare alchemy of heritage and modernity—luxury without ostentation, intimacy without constraint.
We arrived as the August light was beginning to mellow, my wife and I with our twenty-month-old son Xavier in tow, winding our way up Willersey Hill to the crown of the estate. There is a sense of seclusion here, of having risen above the rhythms of daily life into a self-contained world. The welcome was gracious, efficient, and quietly attentive—precisely the kind of reception you would hope for for when travelling with a young child. Our room, spacious and serenely appointed, bore all the hallmarks of Dormy House’s aesthetic signature: tactile fabrics, exposed beams, mellowed lighting, and an understated sense of rural grandeur. The amenities were suitably indulgent—Temple Spa products, enveloping bathrobes, a well-stocked coffee station—yet it was the thoughtful consideration of family life that struck us most: a cot prepared with care, high chairs delivered without request, and an almost invisible yet omnipresent readiness to make our stay effortless.
The House Spa, so often lauded, was enjoyed in the simplest way possible: with a family swim in the serene infinity pool, its warm waters reflecting the soft lighting overhead. The family-friendly session allowed Xavier to splash about with glee, while we enjoyed the tranquillity of the setting. Beyond the pool lay the enticing draw of thermal suites and hydrotherapy pools, but with a toddler’s schedule to honour, we found joy enough in this pared-back immersion, before retreating once more into the cocoon of the hotel.
Dinner was taken at The Back Garden, where the rhythm of fine dining is beautifully balanced with family inclusivity. For Xavier, cucumber sticks and hummus to start, followed by chicken breast with steamed vegetables, all presented with the same thoughtful care as the adult dishes. For us, the evening unfolded more indulgently: I chose a light and fluffy cheese soufflé, and a steak and kidney pie crowned with herb mash, hearty and deeply flavoured, the sort of dish that anchors you to the land itself. My wife opted for a perfectly cooked sirloin steak, accompanied by golden chips, tender kale and roasted tomatoes that burst with late-summer sweetness. For dessert, Xavier dipped happily into a rice pudding dressed with strawberries and shards of honeycomb, while we shared a rich sticky toffee pudding served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, its warmth and sweetness the ideal finale to the meal.
Afterwards, we lingered briefly in The Shed, the hotel’s intimate bar-lounge. With a fire flickering in the grate and the low murmur of conversation around us, it was the kind of place where time elongates, and even with a toddler running about joyfully, the moment felt utterly grown-up.
The following morning brought another highlight: Dormy House’s award-winning breakfast, which proved as memorable as the dinner the night before. I began with kippers—smoky, savoury and perfectly cooked—paired with softly scrambled eggs and sourdough soldiers, a plate that struck the perfect balance between hearty and refined. My wife’s fruit plate was vibrant, brimming with freshness and colour, a light counterpoint to the indulgence of the evening meal. Even Xavier was happily accommodated, delighting in little tastes from both our plates. It was the kind of breakfast that lingers in the memory long after departure, setting the tone for the day with both substance and grace.
For us, this single night away distilled precisely what we craved: the luxury of time, the sensation of being nurtured, and the simple joy of watching our mini hooligan discover the pleasures of a new environment—be it splashing in warm waters or crunching happily through cucumber sticks in a dining room of hushed elegance. Dormy House is more than a hotel; it is a retreat, a haven, a gentle suspension of the ordinary. For those in search of a Cotswolds refuge where style is matched by soul, it is nothing short of sublime.
