A little historical indulgence

It was all drunken debauchery round the table in a banqueting house like this one," says Andrew Aroll, draining his glass of wine. "After feasting on vast quantities of roasts and pies back at the big house, guests would reel through the gardens to this decorative outbuilding, to enjoy a final course of sweetmeats, spiced wine and a bit of risquè fun."

It was obviously a good idea to invite a historical architect to my modest attempt at a banquet in the Summerhouse, Eyton-on-Severn, in Shropshire - especially as Andrew was responsible for rescuing and converting this rare 17th century building into plush holiday accommodation. I was fascinated to learn more about its past - if anyone can spill the beans on centuries of scandalous aristocratic behaviour within the walls of this dinky pink-stone tower, he's the man.

Lunch was the least I could do to encourage a bit of baroque era dirt-dishing from Andrew. My other guest, Emily Abrams, and I listen to tales of 30 or 40 courses - roast venison, lobster, rabbit, sturgeon and wild boar pies, followed by tooth-rotting sugar and gold leaf sculptures. I can only offer them a picnic raided from The Shropshire Poacher, an upmarket deli in nearby Shrewsbury. But the game pies and tangy local cheeses seem to be going well, with wine from the vineyard in Wroxeter Roman City, just down the road.

Andrew and Emily work for the Vivat Trust, a charity set up 10 years ago to rescue gems of period architecture which have fallen through holes in the heritage industry net. The Trust's flash of genius has been to transform them into shamelessly fun and luxurious holiday bolt-holes. It's a refreshing change from the sort of historic self-catering places where reverence for the past casts a joyless gloom over guest facilities and interior decor.

The Summerhouse retains the hedonistic spirit which has ruled here since it belonged to the long-demolished Eyton Hall in the days of Charles II. Emily is showing me the kitchen encircling our dining table, while Andrew explains that this was once an open garden arcade. Here bejewelled diners plucked lutes, grabbed each other in steamy clinches or collapsed, periwigs askew, in a drunken stupor. Party people like these would surely have appreciated the dishwasher here today.

Our tour progresses to the spiral staircase. Modern guests may find the microscopic bathroom squeezed into an alcove beneath this a tad awkward. But they will love the four-poster bed, antiques, sofa and log fire filling the tiny octagonal bedroom. Gazing at the four-poster and my half-unpacked suitcase, Emily points out that, having only one double bed, the Summerhouse is a favourite for honeymoon couples. Some of these pairs return with the new baby (cot provided).

They are eager to record all this in the visitors' book. "I was a princess swept away by my handsome prince in this fairy-tale tower," reads one entry. "We didn't get out of bed much."

We follow Andrew up the worn wooden steps and through a door on to the roof. Leaning against the stone balustrade, we survey the hills, rivers and farms of the Shropshire countryside. I'm trying to decide whether to spend tomorrow in Shrewsbury or nearby Ironbridge Gorge. But Andrew's mind is still in the past. "I think Eyton Hall must once have been over in that field," he muses.

Where to eat, drink and be merry