The best hotel in England?

In even the most beautiful, PR-slick of hotels, when you’re paying for nada and the drinks are free, it’s usually easy to find fault. Because, it would seem, most hoteliers don’t actually stay in their properties and, consequently, they forget to check that everything actually works. I’ve stayed in £300-a-night hotels where the socket for the kettle is in a place it’s impossible to access, where the bath takes (literally) an hour to fill, and where the TV doesn’t even have channel five, let alone digital.

Well, at Bovey Castle, the fault was obvious: the shelf in the shower was a full eighth of an inch too slanted so that the bottles of shower gel and shampoo slid…I can’t even keep up the pretence. My room (number 18) here is so obviously perfect that I literally can’t find a thing to complain about – which is, I hate to admit, a rare thing. Ummmmm… the maid who came to do the turndown service didn’t seem happy… it hardly seems important.

The room I’ve been given is amazing. Honestly. King bed, vast terrace with expansive views of Dartmoor, underfloor heating in the bathroom, double sinks, free-standing bath, a TV large enough for a cinema screening, a shower for two which could actually hold a barn dance, enough cupboard space to satisfy Cheryl Cole – there’s even a window seat for heaven’s sake. The toiletries are Elemis and the cups are Villeroy and Bosch. There’s a real fireplace and the décor is a pleasing shade of natural green, accentuated by oak furnishings. The swimming pool downstairs has kid-free hours, the spa offers signature rituals which involve hot stones and the restaurant has a plum soufflé to bring even the fussiest of guests begging back for more.

During the day, visitors can play 18 holes of immaculate golf on the octogenarian parkland course, practise their swing into the cricket nets, play tennis on the all-weather courts, take a guided walk on Dartmoor or learn the art of falconry with the wonderfully nonchalant Martin Whitley who brings out bird after bird of terrifying proportion and yet makes guests feel strangely at ease with these glorious yet deadly creatures.

I travel a lot and like to think I’ve seen it all, yet I can scarcely find words to convey how much I think of Bovey Castle. It’s British in the very best of ways, bringing patriotism out in the most traitorous of Englishmen. The Edwardian restaurant has a piano player outside to welcome you with tinkling ivories but maintains an informal, friendly atmosphere – it’s got a no denim policy but when I visit there are children in combats. There are formal-seeming lounges with puffed up sofas without the attitude to match for morning coffee and afternoon tea and the bistro serves up casual lunches to all and sundry with impeccable service but no airs and graces. There’s valet parking and porter service without the slavering, tip-expectant drool and a restaurant which pours the wine without the obsequious side order.

It’s wonderful – the kind of place you discuss bringing your partner back to and actually mean it, the sort of hotel you wish you’d chosen for your honeymoon. I can honestly say I’ve stayed at nowhere better and, believe me, that’s saying something.

Dartmoor rocks

Having spent many an unhappy childhood holiday doing what I considered to be "trudging" up tors on Dartmoor, I was excited to head back to Devon's moorlands for a visit last week to write a piece on cycling for the Guardian and challenge my perceptions of a place I used to think miserable.

Not generally the most outdoorsy of people I was slightly nervous about the prospect of spending a full blustery February day on the moors with nothing but a bike for company but I needn't have worried - amidst the rolling hills and striking tors are numerous cosy self-catering cottages, luxurious hotels and five-star restaurants to sooth those weary limbs and make the great outdoors a little bit greater.

I stayed in two very different places, both of which were luxurious in very different ways. Old Tavistock Railway Cottages were a revelation. As soon as I saw the website I knew I had to stay there - three five-star luxury self-catering cottages carved out of the old railway station, a listed building which has been lovingly preserved, retaining its original platform canopy and station doors. Everything was very new and all mod cons were in place, but the charm remained and I was really taken with the original fireplaces, restored stained glass windows and beautiful antique furniture. This is a place with true character but that doesn't compromise on modern facilities - I could have cooked a full Sunday roast in the kitchen and the rolltop bath was a heavenly addition to the otherwise very modern wet-room bathroom.

My other accommodation was the Kingston Estate, where I slept in what felt like a stately home with all the red velvet cords removed from the doorways. The fantastically old-school owners Elizabeth and Michael Corfield made me feel thoroughly at home - something which was helped by the fact that I was the only person staying there! No TV in the rooms, all open log fires and a wonderfully traditional attitude to dinner made me actually slow down for once - a refreshing change in pace I was sorry to say goodbye to when I eventually dragged myself away the next morning.

It wasn't just accommodation where Dartmoor impressed me either. The wonderful Two Bridges Inn right in the centre of the moor was serving up fabulous local produce including the freshest of lamb and the local Jail Ale from the brewery down the road in its warm lounge. I sunk a bit too far into the sofa in front of the log fire but sadly didn't have time to stay the night. I did have a peek in the rooms though and found just the right blend of the luxury and the traditional. For those who like a celebrity connection, one was even a favourite of Vivien Leigh's who stayed here a few times.

Of course, the main attraction on Dartmoor is the superlative scenery and I was truly taken aback by its beauty. Clearly as a child I had my eyes shut because I never appreciated it, I just remember a lot of moaning! There was no moaning on this trip though, just lots of pulling up at the roadside, mouth open, to take in the view. It seems there really is a fine line between love and hate and for me, this time, that line was a cycle path. I'll be back.