The manager is firmly positive in his reply to my email when I ask if the taxi driver will know where to come.

"Everyone knows where we are," he says with authority.

Turns out we end up driving ourselves there, and yes, the person we asked in East Grinstead did  know - but we certainly doubted her directions for a while.

Gravetye Manor's address simply says 'near East Grinstead'. It actually should read NOT near East Grinstead, as you must drive several beautifully leafy miles (we're in England, you have possibly guessed) to reach it. And when you do, you discover it is actually NEARER to West Hoathly or Turners Hill. The only advantage is that East Grinstead is larger and appears on the maps.

Which is all a rather involved way of saying that Gravetye Manor (it isn't even pronounced as you would expect - it's Grave Tie) is deliciously off the map, a flowery hidden estate. But of course, when a place has been around for 500 years or so you do expect people to have learnt your location by now.

But let's start at the beginning - or maybe it's the beginning of the current story which happened now some years ago. Former hotelier Peter Herbert arrived at Gravetye in 1958, fresh from running restaurants in London. His green fingers itched when he saw the wonderful gardens laid out by noted 19th century landscape gardener William Robinson, but which had sadly become neglected.

You have to realize that this was a manor, built in 1598, set on 1000 acres of woods and gardens, with quite a history. Smuggler's Lane hints at the odd bit of contraband at one time and who knows what other secrets lie here. The Herberts found that there was much to do to rehabilitate the property, but they stuck with the task, and today the hotel is at its best - and a member of the prestigious Relais et Chateaux hotel association.

Just 30 miles from Hyde Park Corner in London, this three AA Rosette restaurant and 17-room and suite boutique hotel supplies well-heeled city folk the ideal spot to nip off to for a weekend in the country. For those coming from further away or overseas, Gatwick Airport is just a few miles away.

In fact it's the quintessential gracious British bolt-hole. Think jugs of the purest sweetest water from a spring on the property that has been supplying water to the residents there for half a millennium, in each room. Think milk-in-first tea in bone china cups. Think port by the fire after dinner.

We arrive, finally, flushed with the success of finding the place with no missed turns, crunching over autumn leaves down the long winding drive. This is the place people come to in season to admire the gardens, to roam around, coveting the order and beauty. All the while secretly wishing they could nick a cutting or a few seedlings.

We step into a foyer busy with people leaving their party in the restaurant. There's a roaring fire in the lounge and a general air of post-prandial lethargy. But not at the Reception desk. We are swiftly assigned to Mulberry - top floor, corner room.

"There's a lovely view of the garden," they tell us, "and the croquet lawn." And there is.

There's also cream and pink floral curtains, pink ticking-striped chairs, a window seat from which to admire the garden, a period drop-side table, and antique plates. And botanical prints on the wall - from William Morrison's own garden diary. There's even a facsimile edition of it and I - no gardener at all - am captivated by his details of how he laid out this immense area, planting everything: trees, an orchard, shrubs and flowers as a natural landscape, unlike the geometrically formal French fashion of the time.

One afternoon, armed with a map from Gravetye's reception desk we drive off to see Pooh. Well, his woods anyway. Hartfield village, itself a destination with charming old pubs and houses is adjacent to Ashdown Forest, A A Milne's inspiration for Pooh's habitat.

We collect Poohsticks as advised on the twenty-minute walk through the Five Hundred Acre wood, nodding to the occasional dog-walker and people riding horses on the narrow path. We throw these straight twigs over one side of Poohsticks Bridge just as Milne had with his son Christopher Robin in the 1920's. The idea is you then run to the other side to see whose stick floats through first and wins - all very low-key, with just a few simple signs for direction, yet several Japanese tourists there seemed to enjoy it just as much as we did.

If we'd had time we could have wandered some more, locating Roo's Sandy Pit and the site of Where the North Pole Was, as well as The Enchanted Place. But we had dinner planned in Gravetye's restaurant and the chef's acclaimed food to hurry back for.

After all, Pooh bear was only fiction, but we knew for a fact there was a special, real treat in store for us.

_______________________________________

FACTFILE:

Where: Gravetye is located 30 miles south of London, a few miles from Gatwick airport.

When: To see the gardens at their best, visit in spring or summer.

Who: Gravetye Manor, Near East Grinstead, West Sussex, RH 19 4LJ, England. www.gravetyemanor.co.uk

Pooh's woods: www.pooh-country.co.uk