The Miller of Mansfield is in the pretty Thames village of Goring. Described on the website as "an exciting new breed of small luxury hotel," it was originally an 18th-century coaching inn.
On arrival, we make ourselves known at the small reception desk in the bar area, where we meet a helpful young man who takes us up to a cosy room. Stopping only to admire the French Corbeille bed, which is upholstered with "vintage 1960's fabric", we hurry downstairs.
Finding a couple of leather armchairs in front of a fireplace, my husband gets carried away and imagines Dickensian characters sitting here smoking clay pipes. "They'd get thrown out; this is a non-smoking place," I remind him.
The helpful young man, who seems to be in charge, tells us that, if we like, we can have dinner in the courtyard, beneath the large umbrella complete with built-in heaters. Yes, we would like. All the tables out here are laid with crisp white cloths and, in a corner, a man with a guitar is singing sad songs.
Soon a waiter is bringing us beautifully arranged appetisers, which include segments of skinned tomato, plus various bits of exotic-tasting vegetables, all decorated with a sprig of lavender. Now for starters proper: mine is coconut-fried scallops, mango salsa and lemon-grass dressing, accompanied by a coffee cup of coconut soup, while my husband enjoys his confit duck terrine with tiny cubes of apple that have magically been flavoured with lavender.
I'd originally ordered skate, but it seems I've just missed the last portion — so the waiter suggests fillet of trout, originally intended for the next day's menu. "How unusual, it's square. . . it's also most enjoyable." Later, the waiter comes to see if we're happy. "Ah, you've got the trout, very nice isn't it," he says. As is my husband's turbot with creamed leeks and purple vitelotte potatoes.
Our desserts — orange and vanilla crème brûlée for me and dark chocolate tart and pistachio ice cream for him — are just as delicious as everything else. When everyone's finished, the tablecloths are removed and drinkers fill the tables. As there's nothing more to be gleaned, we go up to our room to watch the flat-screen television.
All is fine until morning, when we realise that the designer bathing arrangements are ridiculous. The free-standing bath is so deep that it's virtually impossible for those who're short of leg to climb into. If I get in, I'll never get out again.
Above, the shower-head is the size of a dinner plate. My husband has no idea which of the two controls turns it on and which adjusts the temperature. So he has to close the curtains around the bath, and then reach through the gap to try them. On finding the on-off tap, he is immediately drenched with cold water. There aren't any grab handles...or shower caps. There are, though, a couple of much-appreciated bathrobes.
Thankfully, the self-service breakfast table is a pleasure. Cereals in bowls; pastries and croissants on a cake-stand; and slices of pineapple. Coffee comes in a cafetière, toast is brought with the bacon and eggs, instead of being left on the table to get cold.
Afterwards, we wander out into the yard where we meet Suji, who's picking a handful of thyme and lavender and who tells us he is the number two chef. "Practically everything in the flower-beds is used in the kitchen," he tells us, "we even use the rose petals."
When paying the bill, we realise that Nick, the chap who has been serving breakfast, is very much in charge. He is from South Africa, he tells us. He'd come down from London for the weekend with friends about six months ago, and the owner had asked him if he wanted a job. "And I'm still here."
PS: Thank you Pete Cox, who wrote: "The Miller's a breath of fresh air in our village."
- The Miller of Mansfield, High Street, Goring on Thames, Oxfordshire RG8 9AW (01491 872829, www.millerofmansfield.com) has 11 rooms and is completely non-smoking. Paddy Burt paid £110 for b&b; £19 for drinks; and £51.85 for dinner for two. Total: £180.85.
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