Falconry, archery and sliding down the stairs

A luxurious country-house hotel is an unlikely venue for a junior activity holiday.

In 1994, at a hotel industry do at the Ritz in London, I sat next to a hugely charismatic – and indeed huge – American called Bob Payton, who talked with irrepressible enthusiasm about Stapleford Park, the country house hotel and sporting estate he owned near Melton Mowbray in Leicestershire. He urged me to go sometime. I said I would love to. But within a few weeks Payton was dead, killed when his Range Rover skidded out of control on the A1, on the way back up to Stapleford from another bash in London.

I thought of him when, eventually, last month, I went to stay at Stapleford (pronounced, according to those in the know, Stappleford). And I was pleased to see that his vision and humour are still very much in evidence there. High on the impressive exterior is the imposing reliefwork inscription: "William Lord Sherard, Baron of Letrym, Repayred this bvylding Anno Domini 1633." More discreetly, also in relief but lower down, on a single stone, are the words: "And Bob Payton Esq Did His Bit, Anno Domini 1988."

Payton's successors have stayed admirably true to the blend of luxury and informality that he strove for at Stapleford. Indeed, the informality was such that my children, no great respecters of decorum when there is a vast sweeping staircase to bump down on their bottoms, were not merely tolerated but encouraged. A footman (as at Cliveden, the former Astor pile in Berkshire, Stapleford works hard at re-creating the ambience of a country house weekend) challenged them to bump even faster.

I was there with the family – wife Jane; Eleanor, eight; Joseph, seven; and Jacob, three – to get a sneak preview of the imaginative break Stapleford is offering these school summer holidays. It is designed mainly for mothers and children, the notion, I think, being that Father is likely to be a captive of the office. Ideally making a whole load of money, for Stapleford is not cheap.

It is, however, magnificent. And as elitist and faintly sexist as it sounds, this idea of Father beavering away in the City while wife luxuriates and children get muddy in the country, there is already no shortage of takers. I can certainly see the attraction. While Mum is being pampered in the handsome spa (my wife had a Japanese head massage, and admitted to dribbling with pleasure), the children are introduced to Stapleford's sporting pleasures: fishing, shooting, riding, archery, golf and falconry.

The falconry was the biggest hit with my three urban animals. Stapleford's falconer is Pete Sibson, 32, who has been wild about birds of prey since he was six. His menagerie includes Pepper, peregrine falcon and film star, who had a leading role in The Mummy Returns. And Roxy, a Steppe eagle, who has now been exiled in disgrace to a pest-control beat in Scotland after mistaking a springer spaniel for a rabbit.

The growing opposition to falconry, which Sibson thinks might be stepped up if fox-hunting is successfully outlawed, threatens to yield his worst nightmare. "It would send me into a mental hospital if I had to stop doing this," he said, with feeling. "I'd crack up."

Bernard would be none too happy, either. Bernard, a three-year-old European eagle owl with a 5ft wingspan and fierce orange eyes, is Sibson's pride and joy. "I watched him hatch in the incubator. I've reared him since day one," he told us, lovingly. He then fitted Eleanor with a buckskin gauntlet, and bravely, she allowed Bernard to land, after a short but awesome flight, on her arm.

The children are still talking about Bernard (Sibson once got into genuine trouble with a guest called Bernard for saying that Bernard looks like a Bernard), and about the 4lb rainbow trout little Jacob caught, shrouded by early morning mist, in the Stapleford lake. We set off on our fly-fishing expedition at 7am, and were enchanted to find a line of about 50 Canada geese and little fluffy goslings leading us down to the water.

Eleanor recorded Jacob's catch in the Stapleford fishing book, omitting to mention that he received more than a bit of help from Malcolm Davison, Stapleford's jolly gamekeeper, a ruddy-cheeked fellow of spectacular girth who might have been supplied by Central Casting.

Davison took them shooting, too, using a .177 air pistol, which apparently is ideal for children – if any gun can be thus described – because it has no recoil. But they preferred the archery, which involved proper bows and lots of blether about Robin Hood. When they were not being formally supervised, they knocked about on the hotel's bikes, conveniently parked outside the front door, and learnt to play chess on a giant outdoor chess set, which thrillingly meant giant thuds on knocking over the opposition pieces. I too was reminded how much fun chess can be, having not played since all those wet school dinnertimes 25 years ago.

Indeed, Stapleford is as stimulating for adults as it is for children. The gardens are beautiful, and there is a fine golf course, which has not suffered from the stringent design restrictions that have been imposed because the 4,000-acre grounds were landscaped by Capability Brown. This year's Ryder Cup captain, Sam Torrance, is Stapleford's (non-resident) touring professional.

When the children are abed – and it is no difficult task to get them there after 7am fishing trips – the food is good and plentiful. As for the rooms, they are all sponsored by different companies and decorated appropriately.

This was a Bob Payton masterstroke, and I remember him telling me about it eight years ago. We stayed in the Tiffany suite, but the kids are desperate to go back and stay in the Coca-Cola suite. Its bathroom is festooned with photographs of famous people swigging Coke – from Sammy Davis jnr to Richard Nixon – and it also features an old-fashioned fridge stuffed with the stuff, which guests can raid to their dentist's discontent. I think we might try to avoid the Coca-Cola suite, but after a break to raise sufficient funds, we'll definitely be back.

A three-night junior programme at Stapleford Park (01572 787522; www.stapleford.co.uk) costs from £793 per room, based on an adult and child sharing, including breakfast, afternoon tea and junior activities.