The Kennels at Goodwood

I can still picture the first time I drove up Kennel Hill. I’d been out on the boat all day, crossed to the Isle of Wight, and rolled in sunburnt, smelling faintly of diesel. It was dusk, that soft light where everything looks better than it probably is. The Kennels seemed to glow against the trees.

The car park was something else, Ferraris, vintage Astons, machines that looked like they’d just come off the Revival circuit. I turned up proud in my Jaguar, but in that line-up it might as well have been a Cortina.

Inside, the nerves hit again. A grand piano in reception, cut-glass accents all around, staff, guests, everyone sounding like they’d walked out of Eton. Me? State comprehensive vowels. I wondered if I’d stand out. But then I clocked the dog bowls tucked under the desk. That one detail made me smile. Formal, yes, but never stiff. Signing the guest book was a joy, a proper pen, not a Bic, and suddenly the tension eased.

The irony is the whole place was never meant for people at all. Built in 1787 by James Wyatt for the 3rd Duke of Richmond, it was one of the most luxurious kennels ever imagined. Central heating for hounds, a century before the main house got it. Fires roaring behind iron plates so the dogs slept warm while the family shivered. Only in England.

The coat of arms and the date are still carved into the façade. The current Duke likes to say The Kennels is finer than Goodwood House itself, and honestly, he’s not wrong. Every time I walk under that arch, I picture the foxhounds padding in, living better than most people of their day. Makes the modern dog bowls by the bar feel like continuity, not novelty.

I didn’t get in on my own. A good friend pulled a favour to get me onto the membership list when there was still a wait. That gesture made it feel like a gift , one I’ve never stopped being grateful for.

That was about 15 years ago. It cost £160 a year back then; I renewed just the other week at £220. Prices creep, but it still feels fair when I compare it to the likes of Soho House, where a mate of mine pays more than a grand just to order a pint in Shoreditch.

The real benefit isn’t the discounts or perks, though they’re handy. It’s being able to bring people in, up to four guests, and let the place do the talking for you. I’ve taken family, friends, colleagues, even clients. And it always lands.

One meeting still stands out. I brought the MD of an electrical wholesaler here while we were scoping his new ecommerce site. I needed quiet, space to talk, but also a setting that would leave a mark. The Kennels gave us both. Over coffee and a long lunch, he told me stories about his brand I’d never have got in a boardroom. He still brings that day up, and for me, that’s the power of this place.

And then there are the birthdays. Every year I book a table. And every year the same thing happens: I forget how peaceful and elegant it is until I pull into the car park and walk through the doors. Then it all comes rushing back, the smooth coffee, the food that’s always a cut above, the old-school service where manners still matter. It makes me wonder why I don’t go more often.

The menus at The Kennels are a reminder that luxury doesn’t have to travel far. Most of what you eat comes from Goodwood’s Home Farm, beef, lamb, cheese, even the flour for the bread. Proper field-to-fork before it became marketing jargon.

The first time I ordered a pint, it was their own organic beer brewed from barley grown just over the hill. Drinking that was oddly grounding, a taste of the estate itself. These days I usually lean towards a Goodwood gin and tonic, but that pint still stays with me.

The roasts are a highlight. I still remember one Sunday beef with gravy thick enough to silence the table mid-conversation. Desserts land just as well, sticky toffee pudding that had the same effect. The food is always beautifully presented, little taste explosions that make you pause. You just have to remember which fork to use and don’t put your elbows on the table. I sometimes think of that line from the 90s sitcom Game On, where Mandy gets mocked for “cutting the nose off the cheese.” If you weren’t raised with the rules, you don’t know them.

Even the mugs carry hounds. Branding in the small details, and it works.

Then there’s the Library. A room lined floor-to-ceiling with Penguin paperbacks, the largest collection in the UK. I’ve sat there with a G&T and the laptop, working in peace, surrounded by all those orange and cream spines. It’s not just décor, it changes the pace of your day.

The Kennels has never forgotten its roots. Dogs are part of the furniture here. They’re not tolerated, they’re welcomed.

Goodwood even offers Dog Memberships. If you’re a member, your dog can join too, complete with its own bowl kept on site. I thought it was a joke the first time, but no, it’s real.

You’ll see labradors under tables in the bar, spaniels racing across the lawns at weddings. I still remember clocking those bowls at reception on my very first visit. Nervous, out of place, and then realising, even muddy paws belong here.

The Kennels is more than a dining room. It’s where traditions get built. For me, it’s birthdays. For others, it’s weddings on the lawns, spaniels included in the photos. I’ve watched kids running outside while the grown-ups sip champagne on the terrace.

The Christmas markets used to feel like hidden gems. Smaller, full of quirky decorations and handmade gifts. They’re busier now, less unique, but the buzz is still there. And every December when I hang that one decoration I bought, I’m right back in the cold air with mulled wine in hand.

Not every visit has to be social. I’ve sat alone with just a coffee, or worked quietly with the laptop and a couple of cappuccinos. It’s a proper country escape , quiet enough to think, alive enough not to feel empty. That balance is rare.

The estate has been a film set for Downton Abbey and The Man from U.N.C.L.E., and I once laughed watching Kevin McCloud judge designer doghouses at Goodwoof on the lawn. Only at Goodwood.

Even the gents’ toilets stand out, walls lined with professional photographs from the Festival of Speed and Revival. Glamorous shots of models, cars, frozen moments from another era. Most people will never see them, but they add another layer of exclusivity.

After all these years, The Kennels still surprises me. I’ve taken clients there, family, friends, even gone solo. I’ve watched kids run on the lawn, seen spaniels in wedding photos, and sipped coffee from mugs with hounds stamped on the side.

It’s not perfect, the fees creep up, the markets get busier. But every time I walk in, I’m reminded why I joined. It’s that mix of tradition and warmth, grandeur and ease. It’s a place where service and manners still mean something, and where even a bloke from a state comprehensive can feel at home among the Penguin books and the grand piano.

That’s why I keep going back. Every birthday. Every year.

Address: Kennel Hill, Goodwood, Chichester PO18 0PN

Telephone: 01243 755132

Website: https://www.goodwood.com/visit-eat-stay/the-kennels/