It's a travel cliché to say: “I won't mention X because I don't want everybody knowing about it.” But that is exactly how I feel about this hotel.

Bailiffscourt is probably the most relaxing, comfortable, well-run place that I've visited this year.

First, the history. The hotel was completed as a medieval folly by Lord Moyne, originally Walter Guinness of the brewing family, and his wife in the 1930s, using sandstone from a crumbling farmhouse and chapel. Moyne, assassinated in Egypt in 1944 when he was Middle East minister, bought the land after falling for the pebbly coastline and hearing that the council planned a housing estate on the site.

The result is a series of buildings set in 30 acres (12ha) of parkland with courtyards, mullioned windows, heavy wood doors, the occasional creaking floorboard, strange tunnels to thatched cottages, and lots of nooks and crannies. It has been a hotel since 1948. The name Bailiffscourt comes from the bailiff who once oversaw the chapel.

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The setting is incredibly peaceful. Sitting in the herb back-garden, sipping tea after a stroll along the quiet beach and a chilly dip in the Channel, all my companion and I could hear was birdsong and the occasional cry of a resident peacock. Polite staff in black waistcoats brought biscuits. Guests in gowns headed for the outhouse spa. A pheasant nipped across the field leading to the sea.

We donned our gowns and, feeling a little self-conscious, walked through the back garden to the pool. Sun-loungers, deckchairs and hammocks were positioned on a lawn partially shaded by oaks. The pool had an “infinity” edge, with water tumbling into a trough of cream stones. There was a wooden hot-tub near the spa. People read or dozed. Children played in the shallows.

A three-course dinner was included in the reasonable room rate. In a restaurant with a wood-panel ceiling, tapestries and tables with tall red candles, we ate monkfish, “double baked” souflette, pasta with morel mushrooms, and lemon tart with gin and tonic sorbet. Service was prompt and friendly, and the food was good.

Bailiffscourt's only downside was its Hooray Henrys. After sleeping well in our modern/medieval room, we ate breakfast in the garden. Here a group in pink polo shirts and aviator sunglasses was loudly discussing rugby (“I nailed him absolutely clean on - God's retribution!”), salaries (“do you get shares with yours?”), poker evenings (“Hamish couldn't make it... he had a meeting at the Dorchester”), friends with sexual peccadilloes (“she tied him up in leathers, you know”), and wine (“oh, yah, the chardonnay was amazing!”).

But that comes with the territory. For an escape from the city, or anywhere else, Bailiffscourt is pretty damn hard to beat.

Bottom line Mystery Guest paid £198 for a dinner B&B double

Sampling the fare Food included; wine from £22 a bottle

Best thing The setting

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