The Cotswolds Pubs Where The Rivals Set Would Really Lunch

There are still corners of the Cotswolds where lunch is not an obligation but a lightly dangerous social commitment. The kind that begins with perfectly respectable intentions and ends several hours later with empty wine bottles and rearranged evening plans

Ever since Rivals returned Jilly Cooper’s world of country-house chaos to public life, the idea of the long Cotswolds lunch has felt newly relevant again. Not the polished fantasy sold to weekenders, but the real thing: Bloody Marys before noon, flirtation over oysters, gossip that moves faster than the traffic through Burford, and the growing realisation that nobody has any serious intention of leaving before dark.

This is a landscape of polo, horse racing, expensive divorces and pubs where lunch is rarely just lunch, it's social theatre with side dishes.

​And if the Rivals cast ever escaped the television screen, these are exactly the pubs where you would expect to find them.
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Rupert Campbell-Black
The Hollow Bottom

​If the Cotswolds racing world has a headquarters, it is almost certainly The Hollow Bottom.

Tucked away on the edge of Guiting Power, this gloriously unpolished institution functions as the social centre of horse-racing life in the Cotswolds. Trainers, jockeys, owners and stable staff pass through with muddy boots, racing tips and opinions they absolutely did not intend to say out loud quite so publicly.

Breakfast is available every day and will usually begin with a Bloody Mary before anybody has properly decided whether this is wise. Lunch rapidly becomes afternoon drinking. Afternoon drinking somehow becomes dinner.

Dogs sleep on a makeshift bed (somebody's coat) beside the fire in winter, local ales named after racehorses line the bar, and the Monday Pie Night (a pie with a pint or glass of wine for £20) has become something close to rural ritual.

Rupert Campbell-Black would absolutely settle in here for dinner after a day at Cheltenham, with one eye on his steak and the other firmly on whichever female that happened to be walking past the table. By pudding, he would almost certainly have been invited to at least two different after-parties and caused three relationship break-ups entirely by accident, and still somehow emerged from the situation looking unfairly charming.

​www.thehollowbottom.com

Declan and Maud O'Hara
The Feathered Nest

​With spectacular views across the Oxfordshire countryside, The Feathered Nest has a setting that encourages optimism, poor judgement and another bottle of wine.

The pub has always been a reliable favourite among the local equestrian crowd. Saddles repurposed as bar stools nod to its horsey-country roots, while the terrace outside has witnessed more than its fair share of flirtation disguised as lunch.

The grilled Cornish monkfish deserves something crisp, white and expensive from the extraordinary wine list, which boasts more than 240 bins and has almost certainly contributed to several complicated romances over the years. For those fully embracing the long-lunch spirit, the eight-course tasting menu removes any realistic expectation of productivity long before dessert arrives.

This is exactly where Declan and Maud O’Hara would arrive determined to have a wonderful evening together. And to be fair, for at least the first hour they probably would. A glass of something cold, spectacular food, and perhaps even a brief moment of marital harmony. Then somewhere between the second bottle and dessert, Declan would say something faintly irritating, Maud would refuse to let it pass, and the entire evening would quietly unravel against one of the most beautiful Oxfordshire backdrops.

thefeatherednestinn.co.uk

Lord Tony Baddingham and James Vereker
The Fox at Oddington

The Fox at Oddington is where the London crowd arrives on Friday evening in cashmere and oversized sunglasses insisting they are “escaping to the countryside”.

Beautifully done without ever feeling try-hard, this is modern Cotswolds pub glamour at its most seductive for people who are very aware of what they are wearing and why it might be noticed. The odd TV personality will drift through, couples discuss school catchments with alarming seriousness, and the sense of being seen is never entirely absent.

DJ & Pizza Thursdays have become something of an institution, while weekends bring a crowd that understands the importance of very good food, wine and cocktails.

The menu is generous, confident and unapologetically indulgent. Crispy lamb sweetbreads with wild garlic aioli practically demand a martini nearby, while the 10oz Hereford sirloin with triple-cooked chips feels entirely reasonable after several cocktails and a great deal of people-watching.

Lord Tony Baddingham and James Vereker would arrive in a convertible and pretend to discuss television over lunch, while keeping one eye firmly on the room in the hope somebody of the opposite sex was noticing them.

thefoxatoddington.com

Freddie Jones and Lizzie Vereker
The Potting Shed, Crudwell

Sitting on the edge of Cotchester society but still close enough to remain firmly in the orbit of its chaos, The Potting Shed has mastered the particular art of feeling both smart, unpretentious and entirely relaxed at the same time.

This is exactly the sort of place Freddie Jones and Lizzie Vereker would disappear to for “just lunch” before the combined effects of excellent wine and emotional misjudgement quietly rearranged the rest of their day. Conveniently, the beautiful Rectory hotel sits directly across the road, which after several glasses would begin to feel less like useful planning and considerably more like temptation for the pair.

The food encourages glorious overcommitment. The Twice Baked Double Gloucester Soufflé with spinach and wholegrain mustard is the sort of deeply reassuring dish that immediately justifies ordering another drink, while the Pork & nduja croquettes with parmesan and wild garlic pesto arrive with enough swagger to derail even the most disciplined intentions.

Then comes the sharing 16oz Chateaubriand with grilled tomato, French fries and a choice of sauces, which feels less like lunch and more like a declaration that nobody has any plans for the rest of the day.

www.thepottingshedpub.com

Bas Baddingham (& Friends)
The Cat and Custard Pot

​A few minutes from Beaufort Polo Club and within striking distance of Tetbury and King Charles' Highgrove, The Cat and Custard Pot sits firmly in prime Cotchester country.

It is a pub of two personalities. One side is all traditional comfort with fires, local beer and relaxed conversation. The other introduces a touch of Southern Italy to Gloucestershire society.

Start with the scallops, before moving onto a superb Luckington Farm steak, another bottle of wine and the growing suspicion that lunch may no longer be entirely under control. 

Bas Baddingham and his friends would absolutely occupy a large table near the bar, flirting enthusiastically with almost everyone who walked through the door, whether invited to or not, and enjoying themselves far more loudly than strictly necessary.

catandcustard.co.uk

Taggie O'Hara
The Wild Duck at Ewen

Just ten minutes from Cirencester Polo Club, The Wild Duck has the sort of easy confidence that comes from knowing everybody already wants to be there.

By late afternoon the pub fills with Royal Ag students, locals, and polo players and locals who appear to have perfected that particular skill of looking slightly dishevelled in a very intentional way. It is lively, unselfconscious and just chaotic enough to feel like something might happen at any moment.

The food is exceptional in a deeply dangerous way. Devilled Crab on Toast and Beef Tartare arrive at tables already crowded with wine glasses, while the Duck Fat Toast has become something close to local currency among regulars. The Wild Boar Pie is rich enough to derail afternoon productivity entirely and, on Fridays, lobster and fries begin appearing across the room as everybody quietly abandons any pretence of moderation.

In one corner, Taggie O’Hara sits with friends, probably pretending not to notice the attention she is attracting from various directions. Or perhaps genuinely not noticing, which somehow makes the situation considerably worse for everybody involved.

www.countrycreatures.com/wild-duck-ewen

Sarah and Paul Stratton
The Rattlebone, Sherston

Just a few miles from Highgrove, The Rattlebone in Sherston, the sort of old-school village pub charm that makes people accidentally stay all afternoon while insisting they are “just popping in for one”.

For Paul Stratton, Cotchester’s permanently campaigning MP, this is exactly the kind of place where being seen matters. Supporting a much-loved community pub looks excellent politically, though the very good wine and beer probably doesn’t hurt either. 

Sarah, meanwhile, has almost certainly been coming here for years with a tiny hope of trying to catch a young Prince's eye like she did during the early noughties whenever he came to the pub. In fact, large sections of South Cotswolds society spent the early 2000s strategically lingering here on exactly those grounds.

The Honey & chilli glazed local pork belly delivers precisely the sort of rich comfort that encourages another bottle, the roast rump of lamb will make you book again straight away, while the Tuesday Steak Night (two juicy 8oz rump steaks with chips, salad and a bottle of house wine for £68) feels tailor-made for couples who fully intend to leave after dinner and absolutely never actually do.

www.therattlebone.co.uk

And, perhaps that is why Rivals still feels so recognisable beneath all the glamour and spectacularly bad behaviour. Because the real centre of Cotswolds society was never the country house, it was always the pub.

Preferably one with excellent wine, very good food, a full bar and somebody harmless flirting in full view. Because the best Cotswolds pubs have never really been just about eating and drinking, they are where village life happens with gossip, celebrations, old friendships and the sort of afternoons that become the stories everybody is still talking about the following weekend.

And frankly, long may it continue.