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or email info@fingals.co.uk
A family story, a lifetime of hospitality
Fingals Devon was born from a lifelong love of good company, great food, and the joy of sharing a beautiful home with others.
I grew up in a large, lively family home in Scotland with six siblings and a steady stream of visitors. Our house was always full — long dinners around a big table, laughter spilling into the night, and the sense that there was always room for one more. Those early memories shaped everything that came after. In the 1970s, I opened my first restaurant in Fulham, London — also called Fingals. It quickly became a much-loved meeting place, known for its communal dining table, relaxed atmosphere and the simple pleasure of connection. But the call of the countryside was irresistible. In 1980, a chance drive down narrow Devon lanes led me to Coombe Manor Farm, a hidden valley near the River Dart. The old buildings were in need of complete restoration — and they were perfect. Fingals Devon was born: a place where city dwellers could escape, unwind, and rediscover life’s simple pleasures.
Over the years, with my wife Sheila, we transformed Fingals into a boutique country hotel and later into four self-catering holiday cottages in Devon. Each cottage has its own character, filled with light, comfort, and a touch of eccentric charm — reflecting our shared backgrounds in restaurant hospitality, modern design, and publishing.
Today, Fingals remains a family-run retreat where guests can slow down, connect, and feel truly at home — just as they might have around that big family table all those years ago.
Written by Richard during the Covid lockdown in the Spring of 2020
The sun blessed Spring has now come and gone
How long can this lockdown go on and on
The Daffodils shone bright on our grassy bank
After the winter that was so wet and dank
We watched along under the deep blue sky
The Camellias and Tulips blossom and die
And the mass of Camassia throw off their flowers
As the Wisteria emerged with late April showers
And all through May it was at its best
Neither admired nor seen by a single guest
As for the wild garlic adorning our lane
You will have to wait till Spring comes again
As time flies by we are now in June
The Rhodies are out and the Roses in bloom
We so wish you could see all our lovely flowers
We have nurtured lovingly for so many hours
And could hit balls together on our grass tennis court
As it is all marked up with the lawn cut short
But this cannot go on for ever and a day
Or all of our flowers will have faded away
When all of the U.S. are in independence celebrations
Is when Fingals is open for U.K. staycations.