Why?
The 15-year-old me would have hated Midhurst. Tranquil, disarmingly pretty and creaky in all the right places, this West Sussex throwback is kept just so by its zealous (read, marvellous) community spirit and its privileged, protected position at the heart of the South Downs National Park. The spectacular South Downs Way passes just a couple of miles south; that we didn’t come anywhere close to setting foot on it speaks volumes.
What you do
First, shop. Independents rule the roost here. (The likes of Boots have to tone down their signage to get admittance.) The Place on West Street — no directions needed — is a pleasing jumble of quirky finds such as vintage fencing masks and antique backgammon boards. Caroline Bloomfield, next door, is brimming with chic pre-loved clothes (cashmere to the fore). There’s a traditional toyshop opposite, and at Stuff & Co, a few doors down, you can see how they make their wonderfully whiffy range of chunky soaps, then indulge in a little pick and mix — we went for passionfruit, lemon and charcoal (from 75p; stuffandco.co.uk).
A cracking 45-minute circular walk starts just off the market square. Pass the cottage on St Anne’s Hill with the custard/mustard-coloured window frames — the signature colour of properties owned by the nearby Cowdray Estate, of polo fame. You’re heading over the knee-high ruins of the Norman Midhurst Castle, then dropping down to follow the River Rother round to the eerie skeleton of Cowdray Ruins, an old manor destroyed by fire — from a monk’s curse, reputedly — in 1793. There’s a tearoom at the Walled Garden, next door (walledgardencowdray. com), but keep your powder dry: back across the Causeway and just off North Street is the absurdly twee Cockburn’s, in a converted medieval hayloft (cream teas from £4.95; cockburnstearooms.co.uk). Downstairs are its sister confectionery shop and the dinky Midhurst Museum.
A short drive out of town is the far bigger Weald & Downland Living Museum. The 40-acre site showcases a millennium of rustic history through scattered period buildings, shows and a huge range of courses in rural trades and crafts. There’s even one in 17th-century drinking songs. Done sober, oddly (£15.50; wealddown.co.uk). You could lose half a day mooching around the neighbouring West Dean Gardens, with its Victorian glasshouses, sunken garden and 300ft Edwardian pergola. Don’t miss the 2½-mile Parkland Walk up through the arboretum and along the site’s southern ridge. The views are immense (from £5.75; westdeangardens.org.uk).
Where you eat
The restaurant at the Spread Eagle (see Where You Stay) is dominated by a vast inglenook fireplace strung with vintage copper warming pans, and the great-value menu is big on provenance: my Sussex cheddar soufflé was followed by South Downs pheasant breast with roast shallots and hazelnuts (three courses from £38). Seven Fish, on North Street, is part buzzy cocktail bar, part Loch Fyne with levity. “Service isn’t included but a hug is,” it said on the bill. This ended up being with the end-of-a-long-shift chef, but hey (mains from £11; sevenfish.co.uk).
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Where you stay
At the Spread Eagle, the sense of history is palpable; on the upstairs landing, behind glass, there’s a panel of the original wattle and daub walls, dating from 1430. The bijou spa is a relatively new addition, but you’ll spend most of your time in the oak-beamed bar, with its 100-plus gins, open fires and “see you back here” armchairs. All 39 rooms have the sort of character you can’t contrive; ours, the Hilaire Belloc mini suite, had a ski-slope slant from one corner to the other (doubles from £119, B&B; hshotels.co.uk).
The Old Store is a three-bedroom B&B in an Edwardian townhouse (doubles from £85; theoldstoremidhurst.co.uk).
Duncan Craig was a guest of the Spread Eagle
