Good friends now have a cottage not that far from Moreton, so each trip up the M40 offers the chance to explore a bit more, and enjoy a bit more. That is certainly the case on a gorgeous sunny day as we drive over rolling hills to Broadway, its wide, tree-lined high street giving the village a rather regal look. It’s dubbed the Jewel of the Cotswolds, and with good reason.

High on Willersey Hill overlooking the village is the Dormy House Hotel, once a 17th-century farmhouse and now one of the Cotswolds’ favourite boutique hotels, thanks mainly to its wonderful spa. And open only since March on the same 400-acre Farncombe Estate is Foxhill Manor, a Grade II-listed Arts and Crafts mansion built in 1908 with beautiful grounds that has been refurbished and turned into an eight-bedroom “private house” hotel (it was previously run as a grand self-catering let). The Philip-Sorensen family are quietly transforming what was an adult-learning centre into a collection of beautifully designed boutique retreats. The latest project is the Fish Hotel, opened in June, offering similar style at more accessible prices.

The rooms and suites at Foxhill, with names such as Oak, Chestnut, Maple and Birch, are all individually designed by Trevillion Interiors, which also worked on the Dormy’s Danish suites. Think four-poster beds, a rich array of period upholstery and drapes and even, by contrast, a rather rock’n’roll look in the Maple Suite — you can see where the reputed £2.5million spent went.

Foxhill still seems very tailored to the solitary booking market, though — a big party taking up the whole house, for example, for a wedding. There’s no set menu or meal times, just a chef who is at your beck and call to serve bespoke dishes in the elegant 16-seat dining room.

There’s also a lounge, a bar, a media room complete with huge DVD collection and games consoles (and huge furry dice to sit on) and meeting rooms. Guests are encouraged to use the facilities at Dormy House too — there’s a shuttle service there and also down to Broadway village. We arrive at Dormy House for lunch to be greeted by an exceptionally tweedy gent — complete with orange cords and flat cap — who perhaps didn’t expect to be stormed past at the front door by a couple of hungry young boys.

This prompts fears that families might not feel welcome at an establishment that seems to appeal much more to couples, however once inside the casual Potting Shed bar-restaurant we are comforted by the shriek of a child coming from another table.

After a lunch of haddock smoked in Cotswolds beer with tartare sauce and peas, helped along by a lovely Languedoc white, Picpoul de Pinet Domaine de Morin Langaran 2012, my better half and the boys head down the hill to the village to poke around the many galleries and boutique shops. I, meanwhile, walk five minutes the other way with clubs in hand to tackle the 18 holes at Broadway Golf Club, unpretentious yet welcoming and with superb views over the Vale of Evesham and the Black Mountains.

Post-golf or shop is where The Dormy House Hotel comes into its own. I’m knackered after my round so I head straight for the spa, with its indoor infinity pool, outdoor hydro pool, mud room and thermal suite. There are also two saunas — I sweat it out in the hot juniper Finnish cabin, while there is also a calmer, lavender-infusion version — and a salt steam room. There’s even a Veuve Clicquot nail bar, where you can sip champagne through a straw while your nails are varnished. I resist the urge.

I find Dormy House to be a curious mix — it’s all honey-hued Cotswolds stone on the outside yet bright, white Scandi-chic in much of the inside. Furniture is a mix of cool and traditional — the front-of-house lounges go for the more country-house Jacobean look. The family have to return to London early, so I retire to the Red lounge with the intention of a serious read of the papers. I make the mistake of ordering a late-night cognac and that allied to the comfort of a Chesterfield sofa puts any such studious pastime well beyond me.

The sense of peace even extends to an early breakfast the next day in the Garden Room as I have to get a train back to the Smoke and the office. Sun rises over the beautifully manicured garden and pagoda out on the terrace, making the rushed wolfing down of cereals, fruit and tea an almost Zen-like experience.

A sense of normality returns with the arrival of a huge and quite delicious bacon sandwich — there’s only so much healthy eating one can take — and then joining the commuter crowd at Moreton. I miss a train and the next one is delayed and packed — as we limp into Paddington I think yes, I’ve got that little bit fonder of the Cotswolds after our Farncombe visit but thank heavens we never bought that house. I couldn’t do this every day.