If you are planning a house party, are up for a bit of fanciful frock-coat action or you simply like nosing round historic houses, Moccas Court is just the place.
It is one of Herefordshire's grand houses, its name derived from Moch ros, the Welsh for swine moor. Completed in the early 1780s, original plans were commissioned from the Adam brothers, but it was built by John Nash's pupil, Anthony Keck. Similarly in the gardens, designs were submitted by Lancelot "Capability" Brown, but they also benefited from the hand of Humphry Repton. The current owners have reinvented it as a popular party venue (in marquees) during the Hay Festival of Literature, as a wedding location, and as a B&B using five of its numerous bedrooms - which is what Cat and I are doing here tonight.
At the top of a long drive, we can see a red-brick four-storey mansion resting on a semi-basement of Bath stone and illuminated with floodlights. It's huge. Mimi Chester-Master greets us at the door, takes us along the chilly outer hall, through a pair of massive doors ("Windy days ... " starts a notice about not letting doors slam) and we're out of the draught and into the pink Oval Hall, with an ornate blue plasterwork domed ceiling high above. Holy moley, it's like standing in a giant Wedgwood dish.
A cantilevered staircase curves around one wall and soon our footsteps are echoing on the stone as we climb to the first floor landing, a semicircle seemingly suspended between the Wedgwood dish above and the hall below, with curved double doors on either side leading to the bedrooms.
"We're in the poshest B&B in England," shrieks Cat, as soon as we're alone. Four beds could easily fit in this twin, along with the fireplace, magnificent sash windows with wooden shutters top and bottom, antique pieces, thick carpet and even thicker curtains. While the kettle boils we read little notices about not smoking and emergencies.
"None of this is faded grandeur," says Cat approvingly, "it's posh hotel standard." Nothing is contrived, overdone or twee. We have bathrobes and lovely candles. Shame about the ordinary bath, though - surely there's room for rolltop indulgence in all that bathroom acreage.
We're taking the dinner option - husband Ben does the cooking - so down to the library we go for pre-dinner drinks among the portraits, leather-bound books and notes asking us not to touch things. We eat in the Circular Drawing Room which is, as the name suggests, perfectly, stunningly, round. Its decorative wallpaper panels are intact, although the factory they were made in burned down at the start of the French Revolution. The candlelit setting is so awe-inspiring it would vie for attention with food by Alain Ducasse, but Ben gives it a run for its money, bringing us slivers of smoked duck tickled into touch with sage and apple jelly, then roast pheasant with cider gravy, crisp root veg and bread sauce, all cooked on an Aga, and finally his lemon tart with vanilla ice cream.
Daylight reveals the River Wye right outside our window - what a view - and an early ramble in the garden brings us to an old fernery and a riverside walk through fields. Back in the round room breakfast is as beautifully presented as dinner. The visitors' book reveals signatures from past Hay Festival guests: Martin Amis, Joanna Trollope, oh, and Vivienne Westwood. Perhaps she managed an outfit to rival the splendours of this house
It is one of Herefordshire's grand houses, its name derived from Moch ros, the Welsh for swine moor. Completed in the early 1780s, original plans were commissioned from the Adam brothers, but it was built by John Nash's pupil, Anthony Keck. Similarly in the gardens, designs were submitted by Lancelot "Capability" Brown, but they also benefited from the hand of Humphry Repton. The current owners have reinvented it as a popular party venue (in marquees) during the Hay Festival of Literature, as a wedding location, and as a B&B using five of its numerous bedrooms - which is what Cat and I are doing here tonight.
At the top of a long drive, we can see a red-brick four-storey mansion resting on a semi-basement of Bath stone and illuminated with floodlights. It's huge. Mimi Chester-Master greets us at the door, takes us along the chilly outer hall, through a pair of massive doors ("Windy days ... " starts a notice about not letting doors slam) and we're out of the draught and into the pink Oval Hall, with an ornate blue plasterwork domed ceiling high above. Holy moley, it's like standing in a giant Wedgwood dish.
A cantilevered staircase curves around one wall and soon our footsteps are echoing on the stone as we climb to the first floor landing, a semicircle seemingly suspended between the Wedgwood dish above and the hall below, with curved double doors on either side leading to the bedrooms.
"We're in the poshest B&B in England," shrieks Cat, as soon as we're alone. Four beds could easily fit in this twin, along with the fireplace, magnificent sash windows with wooden shutters top and bottom, antique pieces, thick carpet and even thicker curtains. While the kettle boils we read little notices about not smoking and emergencies.
"None of this is faded grandeur," says Cat approvingly, "it's posh hotel standard." Nothing is contrived, overdone or twee. We have bathrobes and lovely candles. Shame about the ordinary bath, though - surely there's room for rolltop indulgence in all that bathroom acreage.
We're taking the dinner option - husband Ben does the cooking - so down to the library we go for pre-dinner drinks among the portraits, leather-bound books and notes asking us not to touch things. We eat in the Circular Drawing Room which is, as the name suggests, perfectly, stunningly, round. Its decorative wallpaper panels are intact, although the factory they were made in burned down at the start of the French Revolution. The candlelit setting is so awe-inspiring it would vie for attention with food by Alain Ducasse, but Ben gives it a run for its money, bringing us slivers of smoked duck tickled into touch with sage and apple jelly, then roast pheasant with cider gravy, crisp root veg and bread sauce, all cooked on an Aga, and finally his lemon tart with vanilla ice cream.
Daylight reveals the River Wye right outside our window - what a view - and an early ramble in the garden brings us to an old fernery and a riverside walk through fields. Back in the round room breakfast is as beautifully presented as dinner. The visitors' book reveals signatures from past Hay Festival guests: Martin Amis, Joanna Trollope, oh, and Vivienne Westwood. Perhaps she managed an outfit to rival the splendours of this house
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