Pubs with rooms open so fast I can't keep up. If they're not changing hands, they are being titivated. In the Cotswolds alone, I could spend a month going from pub to pub in a sort of glorified lock-in. I like the unusual name of this pub in the village of Filkins (once home to Labour politician Sir Stafford Cripps). It's a traditional inn name, referring to the monarch (who rules all), the lawyer (pleads for all), the priest (prays for all), the soldier (fights for all) and the peasant (works for all).
Lana and Sebastian Snow used to run a restaurant in Hammersmith, west London. They came here in 2012 and observed the golden rule of taking over a village pub: however marvellous your food, keep the boozer intact. Tonight, elbows rest on the bar, Brakspear's ales are slipping down and Lana – a welcoming livewire – seems to know everyone coming through the door.
Four bedrooms upstairs. Mine is plain but spacious. Bed with a stripy throw, armchair, a little drawered table. That's about it. It lacks the kilim-covered and cushioned cosiness of the bar. Interesting art (is that a lithograph of trawlermen off the Brighton coast?). Decent, compact shower with plenty of toiletries. A hanging sign says, "If you want breakfast in bed, sleep in the kitchen." I shall want a hot drink first thing and can find no means of making one. How hard is it to put a kettle and a cup in a room?
Down beside the fire, baskets are packed with bottles of Five Alls' own herb-infused olive oil for sale – a hint that the food is going to be rather good – and now Lana is telling me that her husband's mother is Italian. That explains the ribollita on the menu. Wish my friend Vanessa would hurry up. Here she is. In the dining room we eat, with gusto, Tuscan soup (vat of that to take home, please), then a warm tart which, Vanessa says, is "packed with crab", and mine, a light and fragrant Asian-style plateful of steamed cod with pak choi, ginger, soy, chilli, and coriander and glass noodles. It's busy but the waitresses stop to chat. "So nice that they do that," says Vanessa.
What a difference loose tea makes, I scribble in my notes at breakfast. I'm gasping, of course.
Did I mention the mattress of two halves? Last night, one side of my bed seemed to sag, while the other was perfectly firm. Once I'd sussed it, I slept like a baby. Breakfast is a feast. Sweet, juicy berry compote, warm croissants, field mushrooms, creamy eggs. Dining and the bar are spot on, and so a crucial part of village life is preserved.
More creature comforts upstairs would reflect what is delivered so admirably downstairs. Then, the Five Alls could easily be six – for the innkeeper, who brings sustenance, but also wellbeing, to all.
• Accommodation was provided by The Five Alls
