Like Chester itself, Oddfellows is both historic and bling. It is a Georgian-fronted, Grade II-listed designer-fever dream. In reception, ancient typewriters climb the walls. In the bar, mahogany panelling has been decorated with huge transfers of foxes and birds. A courtyard garden features artificial turf and huge table lamps. Somewhere in here there is a beautiful old building, hidden beneath candelabra and mounted stags' heads.
Oddfellows is owned by interior design company Lister Carter, and this quirky, over-elaboration continues in the immaculate bedrooms. The outsides of the bedroom doors are decorated with full-size hand-drawn sketches of front doors. No idea why. At the foot of my bed there is a roll-top bath, surely more ornament than utility? You'd drip everywhere.
The room (a top-end duplex costing £169-£258 a night; although how is having to go downstairs in the night to bathroom a luxury?) pays homage to local architect John Douglas. Some surfaces are overlaid with draughtsmen's drawings and urban map designs. One wall is covered in faint architectural plans and graffiti platitudes. "Be not afraid of greatness," I'm advised. Yeah, whatever.
Since 14 new bedrooms were opened last year, Oddfellows has been managed by venerable local swank-pad the Chester Grosvenor, and the close detail is good. The bathroom (handsome, but could be more user-friendly) and polyester-filled pillows (grrr!) apart, my room is hugely comfortable and, from the espresso machine to the remote control that operates the louvre blinds, everything is idiot-proof.
The mini-bar is stocked, not just with Tyrrell's crisps and artisan chocolate, but a takeaway coffee cup that you can fill before you head out. After that, the to-go breakfast included in the room rate (croissant, apple, juice carton) was a let-down.
Dinner was better. Simon Radley, the Grosvenor's Michelin-starred chef, oversees the Garden restaurant, which now carries his name. Such set-ups invite cynicism, but the food was quietly impressive. Limoncello parfait doesn't really pair with delicate Turkish delight, and the pressed rabbit's pickled vegetables lacked poke. But the rabbit itself was long on flavour. The lemony, aniseed-fennel dimensions of a plate of sea bass with linguine were well-balanced. There is a lot of "fur coat and no knickers" superficial and pretentious cooking around at this level (mains, £12-£22), but this was thorough, vibrant food.
Traditionally, Oddfellows was more bar-restaurant than hotel, and the bar remains a buzzing place. However, you'll pay £4.95 for a bottle of so-so Eastgate bitter; music is cranked up loud; and (I never understand this) a muted TV above the fireplace relays BBC News 24. Craving peace and quiet, I sloped off to beery near neighbour the Brewery Tap . A one-time Jacobean dining hall, it is plain, rugged, a genuine design classic.
• Accommodation was provided by the hotel. Travel from Manchester was provided by Northern Rail (northernrail.org)