If travel is about getting away from it all, then a flit to the countryside to escape the grind of modern life definitely fits the bill. Outside of the urban hubs, Britain and Ireland are blessed with country houses that have been transformed into elegant rural hideaways in which to spend the night. As the Good Hotel Guide award winners for 2024 are announced, The Independent can reveal the picks for the best 10 country house hotels in the UK and Ireland. Whether you're after Michelin-starred dinners in Devon or a hearty Cumbrian breakfast to start the day, whether exploring ancient woodlands or lounging beside a pool appeals, there's no shortage of options across this green and pleasant land. To find out more, visit the Good Hotel Guide website. But for now, here are some exceptional hotels that are sure to inspire an escape to the country. Viewfield House Portree, Isle of Skye, Scotland A house-party atmosphere prevails at this 19th-century mansion in 20 acres of woodland garden, home to the Macdonald family for 200 years. Victorian interiors are filled with antiques and paintings, and you won’t find a TV in your bedroom – though it might have dual-aspect windows, a pedestal desk and original fireplace. In a dining room hung with ancestral portraits, guests sit down to a full Scottish breakfast, kippers or a vegetarian option, while at night there is home-made soup, cheese and charcuterie, devilled smoked salmon and vegetarian platters. Mallory Court Leamington Spa, Warwickshire, England Built in 1916 in the romantic Elizabethan vernacular and set within formal gardens and pleasure grounds, Mallory Court welcomes families and their dogs. Described as “sumptuous and relaxing”, bedrooms in the main house blend traditional and contemporary style. Elsewhere, you’ll find places to relax over afternoon tea after a game of croquet or tennis, and in the spa or pool. Dinner in the panelled dining room is formal and fine. Gidleigh Park Chagford, Devon, England A single-track lane leads to this 1920s Tudor-style house, amid 107 acres of gardens and woodland on the banks of the North Teign. It’s home to a Michelin-starred restaurant, tennis court, croquet lawn and putting course. It is family friendly, with picnic hampers available to order and Dartmoor almost on the doorstep. Accommodation ranges from contemporary “classics” to spacious “master” rooms, up to the vast Spa Suite (where guests will find panoramic views of the valley). Chef Paul Eden’s “nouvelle but exquisite” dishes might include steamed turbot, mixed squash, pumpkin seeds, caviar and seaweed. Langar Hall Langar, Nottinghamshire, England This Georgian house in the Vale of Belvoir has been welcoming guests since the late Imogen Skirving was inspired by a dream to open her doors, greeting strangers as friends. Granddaughter Lila Arora now presides over a delightful, faintly eccentric operation. Bedrooms have intense charm; Cartland was a favourite of the late Dame Barbara, and Bohemia, featuring a four-poster bed, has poetry on the walls. Public rooms are filled with antiques and curios. Chef Gary Booth cooks locally sourced dishes, such as assiette of Langar lamb and warm salad of garden beetroot. langarhall.com Enniscoe House Castlehill, County Mayo, Ireland In wooded grounds on Lough Conn, against the backdrop of solitary Mount Nephin, this ancestral home is the very epitome of a Georgian country house in Ireland. Guests are hosted by Susan Kellett and her son, DJ, in a warm, inviting ambience. Bedrooms are spacious, and there is a comfy drawing room with open fire and much-faded Adam wallpaper. Guests meet over drinks before excellent, pared-back suppers cooked by Susan with produce from the organic walled garden. After breakfast, explore the 19th-century pleasure grounds, fish in the Lough, or follow nature trails through ancient woodland. Ty Mawr Brechfa, Carmarthenshire, Wales On the edge of Brechfa Forest in the Cothi valley, this 17th-century country house wins plaudits as “a lovely comfortable hotel”, with individually styled bedrooms, locally sourced food, and great walks from the door. Lastingham Grange Lastingham, Yorkshire, England There is a home-from-home ethos at this former farmhouse on the edge of Spaunton Moor, owned by the Wood family for 70 years, where comforts include tea with scones, a dinner menu that changes each night, and breakfasts of kippers and Yorkshire ham. Warwick Hall Carlisle, Cumbria, England Fishing is popular on the River Eden, which loops around the estate at this dog-friendly mansion, where the day begins with a hearty Cumbrian breakfast, tea is served by the drawing room fire, and guests convene for dinner in the dual-aspect dining room. The Priory Wareham, Dorset, England Four acres of English cottage gardens on the banks of the River Frome surround this former monastery, home to smart and stylish bedrooms and a glass-walled dining room, where chef Stephan Guinebault’s menus draw inspiration from his grandmother’s cooking on her Loire Valley farm. The Old Rectory Martinhoe, Devon, England In a remote hamlet in rolling countryside between Exmoor and the sea, Huw and Sam Rees-Prosser have created the kind of hotel where friends would love to gather, hosting guests for drinks and canapés before they dine from an imaginative nightly menu. oldrectoryhotel.co.uk Read reviews of the best UK hotels Read More Best UK hotels 2022 Best luxury hotels in Scotland for 2022 Family-friendly hotels in the UK for style, location and value Best Isle of Wight hotels 2023 Best hotels in Devon 2023 Best hotels in Europe 2023

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It’s just after 9pm and lilac hues have spread across Dorset skies, shadows extending over a panorama of marquee tops. Perfect conditions for the first night of End of the Road, whose Friday headliners – Black Midi, Battles and Fleet Foxes among them – are minutes away from stepping on stage. Yet, rather than slipping through the masses to grab a good spot, I’ve been back at my tent for an hour already. Having unfolded a stool in the last of the sun, simmering lentils and a mug full of boxed cab-sav for company, my one-year-old daughter, Nancy, has finally nodded off in the tent, unaware of earlier negotiations between her parents. After an afternoon watching bands from a lower-decibel distance as a family, it’s my wife who’s out tonight, enjoying her child-free break for freedom. Although, with the Pixies – a band beloved since teen years but never seen live – top billing on Saturday night, I felt confident in my call as “White Winter Hymnal” carried on the breeze. We’re a day into our first festival as a family of three, an experience already proving quite a journey. As a sometimes music journalist, I’d covered events across Europe over the past decade, adept at negotiating stage splits, balancing reporting duties and life-affirming experiences with willing accomplices. Of these, End of the Road has remained a regular fixture, an informal end-of-summer meet-up with industry colleagues and friends – as well as my chosen stag-do destination. With a one-year-old in tow, this year would mark a stark contrast. From the freshly purchased family-sized tent – the subject of substantial research and investment, and an attempt to win over a camping-averse wife – to the travel cot, buggy, strings of fairy lighting, endless layers, toys and first-aid trappings for every eventuality, the baggage was endless. Shoulders ablaze, I’d carried it all in as my wife kept our daughter entertained. Stepping into my role as responsible dad, I’d practised the tent’s set-up at home prior to arrival and, with a tangible sense of optimism about the weekend ahead, started separating pegs from poles. Yet, with the tent almost up, something unsettled me. What was that smell? Unzipping the bedroom it hit me. My earlier garden practice run had provided the perfect sheltered toilet for a visiting fox –  evidence of which no amount of wet-wipe scrubbing could remove, resulting in a showdown with the reluctant camper and a smell that would accent a weekend in which expectations were continuously lowered. After my wife crashed back in on Friday night, earlier than anticipated and hamstrung by a fast-developing cold, we wondered if we were up to the challenge. Nancy was having a nice time, happy tracking insects in the long grass or studiously inspecting the contents of her snack bag. But could this equally have been any other field? Had we been too exhausted and distracted to embrace the experience? By contrast, our camping companions had brought their five-year-old, who enthusiastically shared stories about favourite bands and the wicker dragonfly he’d crafted, as his dad talked about the surprise sets he’d happened upon the previous night. Perhaps we’d just taken all of this on too soon. The next morning, I nudged Nancy’s buggy around the site, stopping at the kids’ area, where a neckerchiefed uke player offered up nursery rhymes with instruments for children, which were seized upon with pleasure. Various childless friends were never far away, entertaining our daughter in bursts. Later, after reuniting with my wife, a highlight was bobbing to Los Bitchos’ buoyant afternoon performance with Nancy held aloft, as was a brief glimpse of Jockstrap packing out a small stage in the woods. Yet other moments – flailing nappy changes amid aghast onlookers, straying too close to the stage with a buggy as the light faded and the crowd surged – presented a sharp learning curve. Still feeling under the weather, my wife headed back to the tent with Nancy as the Pixies arrived, Frank Black’s substantial presence now underscored by a pang of guilt. After checking in and being signed off to stay out, I’d joined an excitable crowd for an unannounced late-night set at the Tipi stage, which, after turning out to be one of the tiny handful of bands I’d already seen that day – again sounded another minor chord on my tiny violin. As the skies cleared, we’d discovered corners along the way we’d otherwise never have seen and met a similarly dazed yet determined community of parents With my wife’s health deteriorating further overnight – diminishing her perception of fox piss, at least – we made the call to leave on Sunday morning and I hauled everything back to the car. On the long drive home, and hours before Covid would be confirmed, it had to be asked: had this been fun for anyone concerned? Was this festival too aptly named for a new dad trying to reconcile past and present lives? This all happened in the summer of 2022 and, unfazed, we tried again this year – albeit at the even smaller scale and decidedly family-friendly Kite Festival in Oxfordshire. While Nancy’s advanced age presented new challenges – tentative first steps now a confident swagger – her inquisitiveness also marked her out as the perfect festival companion. Expectations now firmly in check, we let ourselves be led by circumstance and proximity, stopping for whatever drew the eye rather than dashing from act to act, allowing us to slow down and see the world through her eyes. Occasionally we tag-teamed the lineup, each picking a couple of acts to witness unhindered by short attention spans (my wife took former PM John Major’s packed-out talk in the big top, I took Suede). Under the hot sun, our meeting point at the shaded children’s area also helped keep Nancy from turning pink in the sun. Clapping furiously at the end of shadow chancellor Rachel Reeves’s morning debate, her grasp on Labour’s manifesto pledges seems better than most – although this mimicry of crowd behaviour proves an endearing feature at later events, too. An uncontrollable tantrum during Michael Gove’s appearance at a panel discussion saw us quickly extract ourselves from the tent, drawing smiles from an audience impressed by the effectiveness of her heckle. Further priceless memories included dancing together at Candi Staton’s sundown set, Nancy with a brioche in each hand – ear defenders askew – visibly finding her feet. The following day the skies suddenly broke, with an electrical storm closing all stages, sending Birkenstock-clad families sprinting for cover. The one attendee thrilled by it all was Nancy, who careered around cackling as security attempted to keep punters from the marquee’s lightning-conducting metal poles. As the skies cleared, we’d discovered corners along the way we’d otherwise never have seen and met a similarly dazed yet determined community of parents. We still hadn’t nailed the performative kids-at-festivals thing – there was no trolley adorned with decoration or whimsical outfits – but felt comfortable that we’d struck the right balance, fulfilled by a shared experience led by the spontaneity of a child’s impulses. It marked a shift from any naive attempt to carry on with our lives as normal. An alternative, of course, is to leave your family at home. A couple of weeks ago I joined 250,000 others at Glastonbury, my own spontaneity given breathing space once more. Thrilling, yes, but also a weekend that at times left me seeking my small festival companion among the other attendees. I was temporarily overcome watching a daughter on the shoulders of her father as he introduced her to a favourite band, excitedly explaining each musician’s role. “How old? I’ve got one a similar age,” was shared with various others. Yet it was also at Glastonbury, as the temperature nudged into the thirties, that I spotted another dad – fixed grin but dead behind the eyes – pushing three irritable kids in a trolley up a shadeless slope. I nod my solidarity, before skipping off to the bar – relieved, this time, that’s not me. Bumping into Joe Goddard from Hot Chip, whose bandmates collectively call their kids the Micro Chips, he says that of all the children he knows, it’s those who have always been dragged to festivals who have proved the most rounded. Something that resonates with me as the Glastonbury hangover subsides and – reunited with my family – I start looking forward to carving out new shared experiences in crowded fields once more. Read More The earthy magic and lawless energy of being a child at Glastonbury festival Too cool to love these acts 10 years ago? This year’s Glastonbury is for you Music festivals have saved me so many times Demi Lovato says she still struggles with vision, hearing impairment after overdose Marina Diamandis says she has been diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome Should I keep my windows closed or open during a heatwave?

UPDATE: Jun. 9, 2023, 5:00 a.m. EDT This story has been updated with the latest

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