Fustiness has been banished at Eckington Manor, on the edge of the Cotswolds, where the decor is rustic but tasteful and the steaks might just transport you to South America
It was dusk by the time my girlfriend arrived at Pershore station on the direct, two-hour train from London Paddington. It seemed odd, the big diesel arriving on a single-track branch line. A plaque on the platform was inscribed with a John Betjeman poem: two melancholy stanzas inspired by this very spot, where the poet felt the merging of the Victorian world and the present in a moments neighbourhood.
A statue of Pan welcomed us to Eckington Manor, which is secreted away in a corner of its namesake village just across the River Avon. The steel figure, by Paul Richardson, is wielding a horn and a cornucopia brimming over with ripe fruits and vegetables. Its fitting, because Eckington Manor houses a thriving restaurant and cookery school, as well as a 15-room hotel carved out of an old farm estate.
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