The Bailiffscourt Hotel & Spa has the air of a small medieval village. It's all golden sandstone, ancient oak doors and polite windows latticed with lead. So I'm surprised to learn that it was built as recently as 1927. It was the grand folly of Lady Moyne, a woman so taken with the look she had her London residence, in Grosvenor Place, redecorated to resemble the gloom of a medieval hall: walls were blackened with smoke, her furniture was dark and her seats were Spanish, plain and upright. She even had the lighting dimmed with thick parchment lamp shades. I'm no psychologist, but I suspect Lady Moyne was less an interior decoration whizz and more morbidly depressed.
That to one side, Bailiffscourt, a small estate of cottages, was her vision, and although Lady Moyne is long gone, her medieval dream remains. It's now owned by a man called Pontus Carminger. I don't get to meet Pontus, but it's the greatest name I've ever heard. In my mind's eye, he's got an extravagant moustache and might be a Bond villain. I shall never know.
What I do know is that I'm here for a games weekend. Bailiffscourt has teamed up with those purveyors of old-fashioned games, Jaques of London, and I'm going to be playing a handful of oft-neglected but traditional English board and card games.
I had been planning to bring my mother but she's the worst cheat in the western hemisphere. I'd rather start world war three than ever play her at Trivial Pursuit again, so instead I've brought Alison, a stickler for everything being above board and shipshape. I once played Scrabble with Alison and had to argue for over half an hour that yes, "qi" was a legitimate word and I should be allowed to play it for a score of 74. She refused to believe me and wouldn't let me play it. We were on the same team.
I meet Chris, the games concierge and hotel manager. He's affable and dapper, and he's explaining the subtle nuances of a game called Shut the Box, which involves dice, numbered wooden slats and a degree of tactics and cunning. He offers to play me. At this point, a French waiter dressed in a kilt tugs me by the sleeve. He's looking anxious.
"Whatever you do," he whispers, "do not play him at Shut the Box. He's a terrible cheat."
And with that, he whisks away down a dark corridor. Alison narrows her eyes. Chris is off the menu. There's something a bit Agatha Christie about all this and I'm loving it. As I settle myself into the card room and prepare to do battle, I am secretly hoping for a distant scream, a weeping chambermaid and the discovery of something unspeakable. Instead, we're going to kick off with a quick round of Happy Families. We're using the Jaques of London cards, which have the original designs. We become obsessed with how far Mr Block the Barber is punching above his weight with his wife Mrs Block, while hoping that he's going to be OK when he finds out his son is a homosexual, which, we opine, he clearly is.
Next up, we tackle Crokinole, a variant of the old English game of squails. Eight wooden discs have to be flicked or shoved from the edge of a round board towards a small hole. I am quite good at this, although Alison isn't happy with my shoving. She's smelling a rat. And so we move on to table skittles, trumps bagatelle and original ludo.
At this point, I turn to Alison and ask if she'd like to finish the evening with a game of Scrabble. She agrees and within three moves I try and play QI. She's not amused.
Bailiffscourt is in a wonderful setting – it backs on to the sea and a haunted pub, the Black Horse Inn, is a five-minute walk away. And the spa is gorgeous – its Drift Away massage is one of the best I've ever had. Just never play Chris at Shut the Box. Just never.
• Bailiffscourt Hotel & Spa, Climping, West Sussex (01903 723511, hshotels.co.uk) has games breaks from £280 a night for two, including dinner, bed and breakfast. The spa is open to nonresidents. You can order all games from Jaques of London (01732 500200, jaqueslondon.co.uk)
