The Best Places in the United Kingdom

A golf and spa resort spread across 163 acres of parkland in County Antrim, with the River Maine threading through it. The Thermal Village Spa draws people up from Belfast for its riverside soaking tubs, saunas, and a snow cabin for anyone who enjoys the ritual shock of cold after heat. Rooms lean cozy and contemporary, with plaid accents that make sense given the landscape. The golf here is serious, and several links courses sit within easy reach.

A 2,000-acre working farm on a quiet Highland loch, Monachyle Mhor is a boutique hotel that can't quite decide if it's a farmhouse, a treehouse, a glamping wagon, or a pine cabin with a wood-burning stove, so it went ahead and became all of them. The restaurant leans on what the farm produces, and scones with cream appear at the bar at any hour, which is the correct policy. Salmon fishing, foraging, and a bracing loch swim are all on the table.

A Georgian manse sitting on ten acres inside Cairngorms National Park, with walled gardens, restored cottages, and converted stables spread across the grounds. It's a country house hotel with the feel of somewhere a Scottish laird actually lived, not a set dressed to look like one. The orangery serves local fine dining, which means you can eat well without leaving the estate, which is precisely the point of coming here.

Six rooms in a hunting lodge deep in the Isle of Skye, where the point is arguably the restaurant and the landscapes rather than the beds, though the beds come dressed in local tweeds and tartans. The kitchen leans hard on traditional recipes and whatever the island actually produces, so the menu shifts with the season and the catch. You come this far into Skye on purpose, and Edinbane Lodge gives that decision somewhere to land.

Dark walls, low light, and a Whisky Snug that exists as a room rather than a compliment: Malmaison Aberdeen is a boutique hotel that treats Scotland's third city like it deserves a London-grade stay. The suites mix classic bones with moody modern color, and the Bar & Grill keeps the atmosphere reliably decadent. The chain has a formula, but it wears it well enough that you stop noticing around the second whisky.

Outside the front door stands a yew tree so old it was already ancient when Rome fell. The Fortingall is a small Arts and Crafts hotel in a Perthshire village that also, with a straight face, claims Pontius Pilate as a local. Inside, the rooms run to four-poster beds, copper baths, ochre and dusky rose walls, and sash windows looking out over the glen. It's the kind of place that makes you feel history is genuinely crowding the car park.

A Victorian fantasy built to look like a Loire Valley château, sitting on the Menai Strait and staring back at the Welsh mainland. The 16 rooms range from castle bedrooms done in bold, hyper-saturated colors to slightly earthier lodge and cottage suites. Afternoon tea draws visitors who aren't even staying. The restaurant, Le Dragon Rouge, leans into Anglesey and Snowdonia produce, so the surroundings earn their keep on the plate too.

A working whisky distillery that also happens to have six rooms, on a 14-mile island off Skye reached by ferry and a short walk from the pier. Each room in the converted Factor's House comes with a bottle of Raasay's own whisky, views across to Skye, and a breakfast room whose stone feature wall doubles as a geology lesson, fossils included, for guests who look closely enough. Distillery tours run through the full process and end with a tasting.

Loch Linnhe sits right outside the window, which does make it hard to complain about much else. This small country-house hotel in the tiny hamlet of Port Appin has eleven individually decorated rooms with wood furnishings and floral wallpaper, a kitchen leaning on local Scottish produce, and afternoon tea in the lounge. The surrounding Highlands do the heavy lifting scenery-wise, and the hotel is quietly content to let them.

The bar at this Speyside hotel stocks around 750 whiskies, which tells you most of what you need to know about the neighborhood. Dowans is a country hotel sitting among more than fifty distilleries, some close enough to walk to after a dram or two. The kitchen sources its meat and fish from within a short drive, afternoon tea runs daily, and the Mbar keeps a fire going for nightcaps. The Michelin Guide has it among its selected hotels.

Two Inverlochy Castles stand near Fort William, one a 13th-century ruin up the road, and one a Victorian castle hotel where you can actually sleep. The rooms are enormous because nobody ever carved them into modern-sized boxes, and the days still run on the old rhythm: fishing and shooting until dusk, then a lavish dinner in one of two dining rooms. The plumbing has been modernized; almost everything else has not, which turns out to be the point.

A private island hotel on the western coast of Scotland, reached by its own bridge rather than a seaplane or a speedboat. Nine holes of golf suggest the mood here: unhurried, old-fashioned in the right ways, with a fireplace in the lounge and antiques in the corridors. The outlying suites and cottages outrun the main house on space and quiet, and the landscape beyond the windows is about as unspoiled as Scotland gets.

A hire property on the River Bann in County Antrim, Moore Lodge takes the whole-house model seriously: eight ensuite bedrooms in the main house, three converted stable cottages for bigger parties, and a River View Orangery for private dinners that look straight onto the water. Between sessions there's a withdrawing room with an open fire, a snug with a wood stove, and a Thermal Terrace running a hot tub, sauna, and bathhouse.

Built from stone, slate, and timber salvaged from the estate's old farm buildings, The Tempus manages to look like it has always been there without actually being old. It's a 52-room country house hotel on a historic Northumberland estate, an hour from Newcastle, with beamed ceilings and stone fireplaces paired against leopard print and florals. The Orangery does classic British cooking and Sunday roasts; a proper tipi handles wood-fired pizza when the mood is less formal.

A private cove on the Irish Sea sits just steps from the front door, which tells you immediately what kind of place this is: a ten-room lodge on the remote Scottish west coast where the whole point is disappearing properly. The interiors run contemporary-classic, heavy on the classic, and one suite is named for Churchill, who once stayed here. A kitchen garden supplies a fine-dining restaurant doing four courses at lunch and seven at dinner.

A sleek boutique hotel in a Victorian port town that built its reputation on being a jumping-off point for the Hebrides rather than a destination. The Perle leans into both sides of that tension: rooms are contemporary with a nod to Highland roughness, the bathrooms have high-pressure rain showers, and there's a spa named for the Scots Gaelic word for sea. The Oban Brasserie and LULU Lounge handle food and cocktails when the scenery has done enough work.

Five hundred varieties of whisky behind the bar is a strong opening argument for any hotel, and the owners built this one after careers in the trade, so the selection is personal, not decorative. The Station Hotel is a handsome 15-room property in Speyside whisky country, with rooms that run from well-appointed singles to suites named for famous distillers, all Hypnos beds and spa-grade bathrooms. Two restaurants and the Spirit Safe bar mean you rarely need to leave.

The draw here is the Machrie Links, a windswept old course on Islay that golfers treat as a kind of pilgrimage. The hotel wraps around that obsession without being consumed by it: rooms are quietly luxurious, the spa is extensive, and the restaurant looks out over the sea with locally sourced food that suits the surroundings. Non-golfers find plenty of excuse to stay, mostly involving dramatic Hebridean scenery and not leaving the spa.

A converted Victorian station hotel sitting a short walk from Royal Dornoch Golf Club, which is almost certainly why you've found it. Inside, grand staircases and wainscoting set a properly baronial tone, stag's heads survey the scene without irony, and self-aware tartan accents keep things from tipping into theme-park Highlands. It's the kind of place that makes a cold, windswept round feel like a reasonable life choice.

Royal Portrush's fourth fairway runs past the window, which sets the tone: this woodland hotel takes golf seriously, with club storage, a putting green, and transfers to the course sorted before you ask. Nine acres of ancient forest shape everything else, from the wood-furnished, forest-hued rooms to a spa using locally gathered ingredients. The Vault downstairs stocks small-batch Bushmills whiskeys for guests who know what they're after.

Steps from Royal Portrush Golf Club on the Northern Irish coast, this old-school hotel has been around forever and wears it well: tartan fabrics, dark wood, maritime paintings, and a deep green and blue palette that nods to the Atlantic outside. The Red Sail Room, a bar and restaurant inside, goes velvet banquettes and glowing lamps, which is a different mood entirely. Retro bicycles are on hand for anyone who didn't come just to golf.

Flute is the rooftop cocktail bar at Broadwick Soho, where someone clearly signed off on an unlimited budget for pink cushions. Expect velvet everywhere, fruity cocktails that can climb to £40, and a wraparound terrace built for staring wistfully at the London skyline while a friend takes the photo. It's a dress-up, spend-a-bit kind of place, and The Infatuation has ranked it among the city's best bars.

The Painter's Room is a small cocktail bar tucked inside Claridge's, done up in the sort of pink shell and stained glass that makes your own flat feel like a storage unit. Expect champagne-forward drinks at Mayfair prices, around £22 for the priciest, ordered by people dressed for a premiere they may or may not be attending. It's the kind of room where a first date either gets engaged or gets the bill.

Le Magritte is the cocktail bar at The Beaumont hotel in Mayfair, reached through a chequerboard lobby, where a bartender in a white jacket stands before a golden art deco bar. The short menu runs from frothy and flirty to stiff and grown-up, though the Gatsby-adjacent room mostly invites a classic. Expect cashmere, Mayfair money, and the odd jet-lagged guest quietly steadying themselves with an Old Fashioned.

Red Room is the scarlet little sibling to The Connaught Bar, tucked into the Mayfair hotel and priced accordingly. Cocktails lean on wine and moody spirits, which makes the pastel pink sofas a source of low-grade dread if you order the beaujolais-and-pisco number. The rosé and Campari drink suits anyone who's been quietly cheating on Negronis. Dress like your trust fund is already vested.

Space Talk is a hi-fi cocktail bar on St John Street in Farringdon, dressed in 1970s walnut and chrome like a record shop that went to finishing school. The panelling was designed by an actual acoustician, which is a job title that makes the rest of the interior feel unreasonably committed. Phones are banned, so couples on early dates have nothing to hide behind except a vermouth-forward drink and each other.

Tramps Bar is a cocktail bar tucked into a gallery space near Old Street, where an oil painting of a foot hangs on the wall and the menu bans vodka and dirty martinis outright. The cinema speakers look like aircraft engines and pulse along to whatever's playing. Everyone drifting around the handsome bar holds a well-made drink with an air of mild detachment, yet the tables are comfortable enough to stay put.

The blood-red leather chairs and black marble fireplace make it clear this is not a bar you stumble into. Le Salon Bar sits on the third floor of Joel Robuchon's London restaurant, reached by an escorted lift ride that does set a tone. The Art Deco room is operatically good-looking, all alligator leather tables and studied drama. Order something with ambition and don't check your phone too obviously.

A corner pub on the south bank, one building shy of Tower Bridge, with a beer list that leans hard into cask and craft. The room has been freshened up from its former smoke-stained self, lime green seating and all, though the bones of an old London boozer are still there. Tourists coming off the bridge mix with local office workers who'd rather not admit they work next to the Mayor.

A basement cocktail bar below a Malaysian restaurant in Queen's Park, where the first challenge is finding the bell push to get in. The plaster walls are styled to look damp, which is a choice, and the dimly lit room leans hard into cellar speakeasy. The house cocktails do the heavy lifting, though the kitchen upstairs means the bar snacks are far better than they need to be.

A wine bar tucked under the railway arches in Bermondsey, where the menu is a chalkboard, reservations don't exist, and the wine comes from a natural-leaning importer operating out of the same warehouse. Around a dozen small plates change daily, running from terrines and seasonal salads to something more substantial, and the idea is to order the lot and share. First-come seating keeps it lively, and nobody here seems to mind waiting.

A zinc bar, wrought-iron stools, and neon signs make the American Deco pitch boldly, but an open fireplace and vintage glassware keep it from feeling like a theme park. This Notting Hill cocktail bar leans into the Manhattan fantasy with enough warmth and genuine antique paraphernalia to make you forget it's a bit of a concept. The cocktail list is long and inventive, which is ultimately the whole point.

The cocktail bar inside 45 Park Lane, the Dorchester's boutique sibling, has quietly been letting Wolfgang Puck's restaurant take all the attention. That suits the bar just fine. The team behind the stick has pedigree from the Dorchester and the Savoy's American Bar, and the drinks menu shows it, with combinations that feel considered rather than clever-for-its-own-sake. A civilized place to drink well without the full Mayfair production number.

The bar is the first thing you see walking into Hotel Missoni, set dead center like a declaration of intent. It's a cocktail bar done in the fashion house's signature bold colors and two-tone patterns, which sounds like it could go wrong and somehow doesn't. The island counter gives plenty of room to perch, or you can sink into one of the deep booth banquettes if you'd rather commit to the evening properly.

The copper-topped bar and wood-panelled walls give this Soho cocktail bar the feel of someone's very well-stocked living room, which suits the mood upstairs from Jason Atherton's Social Eating House. The drinks are serious, and the bar snacks, pork sliders and duck rillettes among them, are the kind of thing that makes leaving harder than it should be. "Dill or No Dill" remains on the menu, which tells you enough about the room's personality.

The indoor cigar lounge is technically a "sampling room," which is the kind of legal creativity that keeps Scotch-and-jazz bars alive. This two-floor Canary Wharf outpost of the Belgravia original runs a crustacean and cocktail bar on the first floor alongside a heated terrace looking out over Cabot Square. Champagne and single malts do most of the heavy lifting, and pre-revolutionary Cuban cigars are available if the evening calls for it.

A small golden plaque at pavement level is the only hint that one of Edinburgh's best cocktail bars sits beneath a dry cleaner's shop. Down in the basement, bare brick walls, leather armchairs, and low lighting make it feel like a discovery rather than a destination. The gin list leans into Edinburgh's reputation for the spirit, and staff will happily build something bespoke. Weekend DJs keep the atmosphere from getting too precious about itself.

A frosted window glowing from within is the only sign anything is happening on Rose Street North Lane, which is either charming or inconvenient depending on how long you've been walking. Bryant and Mack is a speakeasy-styled cocktail bar with seating for about twenty, a no-standing rule, and the kind of atmosphere that rewards the people who actually find it, assuming there's room when they do.

A cocktail bar on Rivington Street that takes its name from the Jabberwocky poem, which sets expectations correctly: the room is smaller than it looks, then larger than it should be, with a wardrobe somewhere in the middle that leads somewhere else. The Mad Hatter aesthetic could easily tip into theme-park territory, but the drinks keep it honest. Shoreditch has no shortage of bars pretending to have personality; this one at least has a family portrait on the wall.

A hole-in-the-wall bar and deli tucked into Covent Garden, Champagne et Fromage specializes in grower champagnes, the kind made by the people who grew the grapes rather than the big houses that get all the attention. Around two dozen options pour by the glass alongside a cheese counter, making it equal parts wine bar and very convincing argument for skipping dinner reservations entirely.

Patterned wallpaper, low-slung couches, and a bar running along one wall of a dimly lit basement room: this is a wine bar that takes itself seriously without making you feel underdressed. It shares a pedigree with Paris's Compagnie Des Vins Surnaturels and the Experimental Cocktail Club, which means the list is long and the staff know it cold. Neal's Yard is a strange little pocket of London, and this fits right in.

An antler chandelier greets you at the door of this two-floor cocktail bar on Cotham Hill, which runs bigger than its frontage suggests. The Scandinavian-leaning fit-out keeps things clean and calm, with booth seating that nudges the room toward intimate rather than cavernous. The team leans into service in a way that feels deliberate rather than performative, which on a Bristol hill is rarer than it should be.

A basement cocktail bar beneath a City pub, with a name that sounds like it handles mergers but actually refers to the house's two signature batched cocktails: the Demon, something stiff and stirred, and the Wise, a lighter sour. Each batch is different, and a snooker scoreboard above the back bar counts down however many pours remain. The suits filing in after close of trade probably don't mind the urgency.

White-jacketed bartenders shake the house martini the same way they do at the Barcelona original, which has been doing it this way for what feels like forever. This cocktail bar sits deep inside the Meliá White House Hotel, tucked into the no-man's-land north of Euston Road where tourists rarely wander and hotel guests sometimes stumble upon it by accident, which is arguably the correct way to find a very classical cocktail bar.

Four copper tanks of unpasteurised Pilsner Urquell, shipped weekly from the Czech Republic, greet you at the door and tell you immediately what kind of bar this is. Alan Yau, the name behind Hakkasan and Yauatcha next door, pitched it as a Chinese gastropub, which sounds like a PR concept until you're actually there with a cold lager and a plate of salt and pepper squid on a Soho afternoon.

Green tiles and a country-pub face on Bermondsey Street, then inside it's sage kitchen panelling, plush wallpaper, silk lamps, American diner booths, and space-age bucket seats all sharing a room without having discussed it first. The Garrison is a pub and neighbourhood bar with a devoted following on one of London's better eating-and-drinking streets, and booking ahead is less optional than it sounds.

The bar sits inside St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel, which means Victorian gothic arches, ornamental mouldings, and a ceiling hung with enormous church bells that are, it turns out, fiberglass. Nobody asks. The room leans into the maximalism hard, all gilt and warm colour, and it manages to feel intimate despite the grandeur. A cocktail bar where the architecture does a lot of the talking, and the talking is quite loud.

The polished bar hits you first as you descend into the old brewery basement, and it earns the entrance. This is a cocktail bar attached to the Hawksmoor steakhouse empire, which means the drinks are taken as seriously as the beef upstairs. The cavernous, low-lit room does read a little New York meatpacking district, but the building was brewing London's beer long before that neighborhood had a mood.

The concept started as a rotating bar that reinvented itself every few months, and somewhere along the way it just became a bar worth staying in. Hedonist on Briggate is a cocktail bar that has settled into its own skin, putting the focus on the drinks themselves rather than the next theatrical theme. The kind of place where the menu does the talking and the room doesn't need a costume to hold your attention.

Three Victorian cellars knocked into one give this basement bar its vaulted ceilings, still lined in original white porcelain tiles. The namesake Jake Burger has long since moved on to gin work in London, but the bar he built on Call Lane carries on with its reputation for being crammed, loud, and a little dangerous on a Friday. Arrive early later in the week or the door will make the decision for you.

A marble bar counter, two chalkboards, and a corner shop footprint that gives the whole thing a slightly miraculous quality. This is a sherry and tapas bar on Bermondsey Street, small enough that standing room feels like a personality choice rather than an oversight. The team knows their palo cortado from their manzanilla and will tell you which glass to order with whatever the kitchen is turning out that day.

A sliding door at the back of a fake launderette leads you into this speakeasy cocktail bar tucked inside The Breakfast Club's Clapham spot. It's the South London sibling to The Mayor of Scaredy Cat Town, where the trick is a vintage fridge. Here the ruse is spin cycles and detergent shelves. Book ahead if you can, or ask nicely at the front and keep your voice down about why you're really there.

Down a cobbled passage off Bow Lane, past the church whose bells once defined who counted as a true Cockney, this subterranean lounge bar takes the British Empire as its organizing obsession. Gin and rum anchor the menu, with bottles running from rare old releases to new arrivals, and the cocktail list follows suit with imperial-themed drinks. The kind of dim, tucked-away room that feels like a find every time.

Black-and-white prints of rock legends cover the walls, the music is loud and non-negotiable, and the shots keep coming. Mojo is a rock-and-roll bar with no pretensions and no apologies, the kind of place that gets rowdy early and stays that way. The crowd is genuinely mixed in the best dive-bar tradition, all packed in under the noise. The holy Mojito is apparently on the menu for theological reasons.

Fairy lights and a narrow passage off the Royal Mile lead you downstairs into three rooms that feel nothing like the street above: a proper bar, banquette seating, and a back room with an open fireplace and bookshelves that leans hard into gentleman's club territory. The Royal Mile earns its tourist reputation, but this basement cocktail bar is the exception serious drinkers make before moving on to lecture everyone else about avoiding the Royal Mile.

A steel grid on the end wall doubles as a gallery, local art priced and ready to go home with you. This is a proper East End corner pub, all comfy sofas and battered wooden tables, sitting among Victorian terraces just off Mile End Road. Gastro pubs tend to cluster where the money already is, so its presence in Bow says something about the neighbourhood's direction of travel, though regulars seem unbothered by the symbolism.

The room is shaped like a ship's bow, with arched windows on two sides flooding the zinc and marble tops with light. This gastropub on a quiet Pimlico corner has the feel of a country kitchen that wandered into the city and decided to stay, all painted panelling, oak floors, and stripped pine shutters in creamy, pastel tones. The name is borrowed straight from the address, but the setting more than compensates for the lack of imagination.