On Top of the World down at the Hollow Bottom

Pubs are at the core of many a Cotswold village, blending in with the honey-coloured cottages. Nestled in the bottom of a hollow in the picturesque village of Guiting Power, the Hollow Bottom has been a haunt for many years for racing grooms. The news of its recent closure brought forth an avalanche of memories.

Parading 2010 Cheltenham Gold Cup Hero Imperial Commander

Photo Credit: Edward Whitaker

It was a classic racing pub, typified by fun, celebrations and parties. Cheesy discos were a monthly occurrence adding to Christmas parties, leaving dos, birthday parties but the most memorable nights were those celebrating the yard's winners. Sometimes the bar overflowed with customers in tuxedos and long, glamorous dresses, indicating pre-drinks for hunt balls and dinner dances. Two St Trinian-themed nights inspired sights never seen before, including cross-dressing stable lads, mortar boards and gowns, and stable girls who were more Grange Hill than private school. 

Christmas parties were guaranteed to be fun. One year, even road conditions made inaccessible by snow and freezing temperatures didn't stop us getting to the annual event. Yet, a fleet of 4x4s didn't ferry the staff there – we all caught the ‘Cotswold Express’, which meant piling into the Ifor Williams horse trailer that was hitched to the back of the tractor. It made for a wobbly journey, especially for the girls in heels avoiding the dried poo the last occupant had left there. I can't remember how we got home, but hazy memories were sign of a top night out.

During the time I worked for Nigel Twiston-Davies, the ‘Hollow’ was the type of pub where, on walking through the door, a G&T, my choice of tipple, would automatically be fizzed into a glass and placed on the bar. The bar staff and chefs became our best friends, joining us on many nights out or lock-ins. A multitude of past champions galloped across the walls in mounts and frames. The bar was a shrine to both Nigel’s Grand National winners, Earth Summit and Bindaree. Owners’ and trainers’ badges hung like paper chains above the crackling log fire. Newspaper cuttings were pasted to the ceiling like decoupage.

Over the years, the pub was renovated and revamped. Once the chairs were painted in a smoky grey, the patterned carpet changed, and the dining room decorated in dark, moody tones. Decking was constructed over the small car park out the back, including a tiki bar and firepit. The staff wore new T-shirts that were no longer embroidered with past champions. Yet, the essence stayed the same: it was a pub for racing folk.

Dan as 'Danielle', Paul as 'Pauline' and the head girls at a St Trinian's fancy dress

After the big meetings at Cheltenham Racecourse, the Hollow was heaving, often with live music put on to fill up a marquee erected especially for the occasion. Yet, it wasn't just the big days of November, December and March, crowds from the smaller meetings were still drawn there.

In racing, there’s a tradition that the very biggest of winners are taken down to the local pub the following day. On the walls, there were photos of the two Grand National winners amongst well-wishers, press and staff, the pub standing proudly, a solid backdrop of golden stone.

I never thought I’d be the one to parade a horse in similar fashion. But when Imperial Commander won the 2010 Cheltenham Gold Cup, I took him down there the next lunchtime, along with Baby Run and Pigeon Island, who gave us a treble. Leading the handsome bay over the brow, his plates clopping on the tarmac, the winners of the Foxhunters’ and the Grand Annual following, was nearly as amazing as leading him down the chute and into the winner’s enclosure. Cameras clicked, everyone patted the winners and pub-goers spilled out onto the flat porch roof to clap.

After returning the horses to their stables, of course we went back to the Hollow to celebrate with food and gallons more booze. The Gold Cup trophy was there, shiny and bright and, at one point, a basket of golden chips was placed in it! The partying continued for a whole week.

We weren’t just limited to going to the Hollow Bottom. A night out always started there before progressing to either the Plough Inn at Ford or the Halfway House at Kineton, which was situated in the middle of the other two pubs. Jon Bon Jovi’s ‘It’s My Life’ and ‘Living On A Prayer’ became the prime anthems at discos down the Plough, and if there wasn’t a scrap then it wasn’t really a good night.

Even the ‘Half’ had discos but the most memorable nights there were the ones with live Irish music. A coachload of people from out the area always arrived – they apparently followed the band round from pub to pub. Every other person swigged Guinness and the Half was as packed as if the real Dubliners had been playing. Everyone mingled; no one cared about the who’s who, we were all friends.

Time moves on and pubs change, mostly into restaurants with high-quality dining. Yet, if the old values were occasionally resurrected, then it certainly would be a throwback to a Cotswold pub’s heyday.

The Cotswold Express, Christmas dinner and a birthday lunch after riding out