Win a 2-4-1 weekday stay in August at the historic Hope House. Click for details.

As I walk up the stairs I feel myself lean to the left. I haven’t even had a glass of wine so I can’t blame my instability on intoxication quite yet.

The horizontally challenged treads mark the passing of time; the three hundred years that have passed since this house was built.

Hope House, in Woodstock, Oxfordshire, UK, is dripping with history. It’s a time machine that transports you back through time. It’s not just the horsehair plaster and original paneling. It’s the stories and family legacy that accompany the bricks and mortar.

Paul Hageman owns and runs the historic house, as ten generations have done before him. And it’s a family full of colourful and interesting characters including glove makers that received a Royal Warrant from Queen Victoria; a captain of a merchant ship that sailed the seas to trade with far-flung nations; a high ranking naval officer who fought during the First and Second World Wars; and marital connections to the artistic Dyce family.

After three years overseeing the entire restoration and refurbishment of this Vanbrughian style Grade II* listed property, Paul opened Hope House in 2009 as beautiful boutique accommodation with three individually designed and spacious suites.

Blenheim Palace, the home of the 11th Duke and Duchess of Marlborough and birthplace of Sir Winston Churchill, was built around the same time. The families, however, were not always easy neighbours with the 6th Duke of Marlborough refusing the pay for his father’s coffin in 1841, leaving the owners of Hope House to raise money in the town.

Along with its illustrious history, Hope House has provided a roof over the head of many famous people including Russell Crowe, Diana Ross and Cate Blanchett. We stayed in the same suite as the Sheriff of Nottingham (or Matthew Macfadyen as he is better known).

It’s difficult to see what else you might want from a place to stay. It unique – it’s not a bed or breakfast or a hotel. It’s an historic home. There is a reason why Trip Advisor ranked Hope House the 10th best luxury hotel in the UK in 2013 Travellers’ Choice awards.

The practical bit:

Accommodation: Hope House offers five star accommodation. The suites are spacious with a lounge complete with state-of-the-art entertainment: (LCD TV, surround system, Blu-ray player, wall-mounted iPod docks, high speed wireless internet access). There is a fully-stocked mini bar and personal touches such as flowers, home-made produce and service at the touch of a button. The Hope House breakfast is beautifully prepared and presented with local-resourced ingredients. There isn’t a restaurant but Woodstock is a compact town with plenty of dining options from pubs to upmarket restaurants.

Location: The ancient market town of Woodstock is situated on the edge of the Cotswolds, near Oxford, an hour’s drive from London.

For more information: www.hopehousewoodstock.co.uk

A bit of trivia: Some of the windows at Hope House include etchings marking family weddings through the centuries. 


If you're looking for the bright lights of the city you might prefer a boutique London hotel.

Every now and then parents need a break from their children. We need to be reminded that we are adults. We need to relearn how to talk to our spouse without conversations edged with condescension and chiding.

Our summer holidays are pretty typical as far as expat experiences go. For four or five weeks we drag our little cherubs from pillar to post visiting relatives and friends in our homeland. This means, however, that we are lucky enough to find willing babysitters. So when we can we take the opportunity to escape to an adult-only bolthole that demands we sit nicely at the table and where it is almost compulsory to have a lie-in because the beds are so comfortable.

The Eccleston Square Hotel in London was the perfect medicine to our parental ailments. Standing on the pavement of the imposing Georgian terrace, the door magically opened before us beckoning us to step inside.

We could have stepped into a black and white movie, or I might have been mistaken for wondering if I’d become colour blind. The hotel interior’s monochrome palette is funky rather than bland though, with theatrical black Murano glass chandeliers and sweeping banisters. Attention has been paid to detail from the fluffy bathrobe and slippers to the multinational plug sockets for the international traveller.

If you’re a gadgetry geek and like technology you'll enjoy the 103" custom-made television in the Media Room, although each bedroom has a 3D plasma television, and there are even six televisions in the lift if you get bored on your way up. The buttons to operate the curtains and lights are non-touch; the glass walls in the bathroom turn opaque at a wave; the in-room iPad acts as a concierge; the main feature of the room is the Hästens electrically adjustable massaging bed. There is filtered fresh air and mood music and lighting; the list goes on. In fact there are so many buttons to press I’m not sure that I was able to get to grips with it all in one night, but it rather captured my husband’s imagination. This hotel is the only suitable for big kids though – no children are allowed.

Eccleston Square has exactly what you might expect in terms of attentive service, but this extends further than most city hotels. Hi-tech services come with a price tag, but the owners have a fair price policy that means visitors do get value. There is free Wi-Fi, free local calls, complimentary coffee, water and DVD library, but the hotel doesn’t take the opportunity to slap a heavy price tag in other areas. The fair price mini bar in your room, for example, means you can have a drink without worrying whether you’re drinking liquid gold rather than beer.

And although small, the hotel also offers room service and has a modern European menu at the Bistro on the Square. If you can, grab the window seat to enjoy your meal overlooking the toing and froings of the square. Or if you want something a little different, the staff will even prepare a private dining table for you in the pretty landscaped Square garden.

It really is a hidden gem, and a perfect excuse to give the grandparents quality time with their grandchildren. Doesn’t everyone win?!

The practical bit:
Location: Belgavia, London. Just around the corner from Victoria train and coach stations, this hotel is in a super, easy to get to, location. Set in a peaceful square with private gardens, a short walk away from shops and restaurants it's worth considering for business or holiday.
Eating: The bistro is small but neatly appointed. The best seat in the house in at the window.
A bit of trivia: This grade II listed late Georgian townhouse has hosted many famous visitors over two centuries including Princess Victoria and Lord Louis Mountbatten. Churchill lived in a neighbouring house.
Need more information? www.ecclestonsquarehotel.com


And what about an escape to the countryside? Here's our insight into a parents' weekend away from the kids in Woodstock, Oxfordshire.

It’s strange to return to the UK after a year’s absence. This is our longest stretch without our feet in a rain puddle.

But this July, things are different. It’s a beautiful summer’s day and I’m sitting in a coffee shop in London. That’s right. I’ve chosen to sit inside. Despite living in one of the hottest places on the planet, where temperatures in Dubai are 48C, the UK is enjoying it’s own little heat wave and it’s actually too hot to sit in the sun. It’s fantastic.

Returning to the UK this time, with the distance of 12 months since our last visit, has meant that I’m able to view life almost as a tourist. I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my home country but it’s refreshing to see things from a different angle, viewing warts and all.

Let’s start at the airport. With a three year old grabbing an area of her anatomy that isn’t entirely welcomed by polite society, my first job on touchdown was to find the ladies’ room. Now, I’m happy to get sweaty running up a mountain, or muddy while camping in a field in the UK, but I’m fastidious about cleanliness when it comes to human dirt. The toilets in the UK aren’t great. I won’t go into details, but here’s my advice for what it’s worth: cleaners, please do your job properly. Users, please be respectful of others and wash your hands. Rant over.

Now moving on to the passport control. This is usually another subject that brings forth a litany of complaints, starting with why there isn’t a queue for British passport holders when other countries put their nationals first. But I have to say the staff on this occasion where brilliant. They were firm but friendly, engaged and polite. Top marks when this is for most visitors their first impression of the country.

No assessment of the UK would be complete without mentioning the weather, several times. However, given the country is in the middle of a heat wave, it’s hard to do anything but match the sunny skies with a sunny disposition. I accept that when you’re packed into a train with sweat trickling down your back is not a pleasant experience, but we just need to accept that the UK isn’t set up for hot weather because it doesn’t happen often enough. There isn’t enough air conditioning, because it isn’t worth the investment. But forget the down sides (it isn’t environmentally friendly anyway). You can’t beat sitting in the garden surrounded by English roses with a glass of chilled white wine in your hand. Hold that thought.

And then there is the countryside itself. Flat plains, rocky mountains or dairy farms and hedgerows. The UK has it all. I love pulling on my trainers and running into the woods to explore the ancient paths and meandering tracks.

So, to wrap up a few more observations, I’d like to praise the courtesy of most drivers who stop the traffic to let me cross with my young children; I’d like reassess our national sense of style when the weather warms up, revealing naked skin and tattoos; I’d like to say thank you to the nun walking along with a mobile phone, who made me smile, and to the man who asked if I needed directions.

And finally, I’d like people to take pride in their heritage and homeland. Try viewing your surroundings through the eyes of a tourist. Revel in the positives. Try to improve the negatives. We’ve shown how good we are at celebrating and raising the flag; whether it’s winning the Tour de France or the birth of a Royal baby. Can’t we take pride in everyday life too?

And if you’re still wondering what it’s like to be British, this article might make you smile.  Click here to read Flying the British flag in the face of confusion.

I’m in a bad mood. Firstly, I hate time wasting, and secondly, I wish everyone could describe my nationality in the same way. And these points are related.

I’m British. I was born in Wales, my husband is from Northern Ireland and our children were born in England. So to avoid any debate on the dominant countries, principalities and provinces that make up the British Isles, we say we are British. It is as simple as that.

If only. When I fill in an internet-based form full of “time-saving” drop down menus, I start to doubt my nationality. For example, when asked: “What is your nationality?”, the answer should not be “United Kingdom”, it should be “British”. So I’m left scrolling up and down the page. Great Britain, Britain, United Kingdom, and sometime, irritatingly, England.

If I’m looking for my currency, it surely should be Great British Pound, as it is traditionally abbreviated to GBP, or possibly Sterling. Not British pound, or United Kingdom funny money.  

And don’t get me started when I see the flag being flown upside down, or incorrectly depicted. (Yes, there is no mirror image to the Union Flag. The urban myth is that if you fly the flag upside down you are making a distress signal, but given that most Brits struggle to put it the right way up, you’ll be waiting for help for a long time.)

I would gladly give a history lesson on the complex pieces of our jigsaw realm to anyone who would listen, but believe it or not, it is hard to get an audience.

Since you’re reading this, I’m going to assume that you have agreed to be my audience, so please excuse me for pushing this relationship to the max; I’m going to get on my soap box.

Located in North-East Europe, the British Isles are a group of pretty chilly and damp islands, including Britain, Ireland, the Isle of Man, the Hebrides, the Orkney Islands, the Shetland Islands, the Scilly Isles, and the Channel Islands. But it’s a perilous decision for the brave soul who describes us as European. As we are part of the European Union, in one sense we are European, but we don’t share the common currency, or the common uniting force of being part of the mainland. That said, it has been a winding road to our current political relationship with our brothers over the channel. We are only divided by a 24 mile stretch of water, but the British like to have this internal battle – we can’t make our own minds up over whether we are European or not. We want to feel part of any great European debates, especially when decisions affect us (such as whether our bananas are allowed to be curvy, or whether we have enough cocoa in our great British chocolate).

Particularly, we still carry a torch for our colonial past. We might have started the Industrial Revolution, but we will be first to admit that since decolonisation we no longer have the resources or money to push the same trajectory, and our systems are crumbling and antiquated. History is an important part of our identity and pivotal to the UK’s current industrial success – if it wasn’t for history we wouldn’t have a flourishing tourist trade. There has to be a greater pull than the weather, after all.

Following the Second World War, Britain helped broker the deal that tied Germany industry to France through the European Coal and Steel Community. This was an effort to stem any future aggressive German nationalism. This industrial relationship was the seed that grew into today’s European Union. We watched from afar, and then decided, as the relationship appear to be more beneficial than our other trading links, that we should join in the fun. Only to be told by de Gaulle on more than one occasion: “Non”. When we were finally allowed membership it appears we still felt uncomfortable about a relationship based on partnership. We were used to calling the shots. We wanted to be part of this growing decision-making power, but we didn’t like sharing the decision-making or relinquishing any degree of control.

We’re British. Part of our stereotype is our quirky sense of humour, and our contradictions. It’s a by-product of the class system that still exists today. We might politically have done away with the idea of class, but in truth it’s evident every day, from the North-South divide, to the landed gentry, House of Lords and Monarchy. So if we are confused about our identity, and full of contradictions, can’t others be forgiven for not understanding who we are?

Even I get confused when I try to get my head around how my husband is Irish, not Irish; is British but not from Great Britain. I can’t exactly describe him as United Kingdomish, can I?!

For a brief over-view of the geographical complexity that confuses even its own people, it’s worth watching this amusing video. At least the Union Flag is the right way up.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNu8XDBSn10