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An Innkeeper's Diary
Eccentric and blunt-speaking Fothergill’s memoirs as an innkeeper in Thame at the Spread Eagle Inn.
- GenresHistoryNonfiction
320 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1931
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About the author
John Fothergill
14 booksJohn Rowland Fothergill (1876–1957) was an English innkeeper and entrepreneur, described as a "pioneer amateur innkeeper" in Who's Who.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
December 16, 2025
“Once a man told me, for no good reason on that occasion at least, that I was “no gentleman”, and I was glad to coin the only possible reply to this old cliché by saying, “I make no pretence to being a gentleman so we may continue the discussion on equal terms.” A don-like tu quoque.”
The writer of this diary, John Fothergill was the proprietor of the Spreadeagle at Thame in Oxfordshire in the 1920s. This diary runs from 1922 to 1930. It is separated by year rather than by day and is basically a series of recollections of people and topics written at the end of the day.
Fothergill was an interesting character. He was an art student at The Slade and knew Augustus John and William Rothenstein. In 1898 he opened a gallery in London. He was a close friend of Reginald Turner, Robbie Ross and Oscar Wilde. Wilde gave him an inscribed copy of The Ballad of Reading Gaol.
As an innkeeper Fothergill was notably irascible and there are certainly shades of Basil Fawlty in his attitude to some of his clientele. He did though gain a national reputation for keeping a good house and for the quality of the food. Many of the bright young things” visited and stayed and Waugh was a regular visitor. It was close enough to Oxford to attract dons and undergraduates.
The diary is full of amusing anecdotes and Fothergill’s irritation with the general public. He was undoubtedly a snob and there are stories of him adding to the bill if he didn’t like or approve of someone, although these may be apocryphal. The stories aren’t.
Two ladies complained about the cost of garaging their car and were told, “If you care to take it up to your bedroom there will be no charge for the garage.”
Jonathon Persse recalls a story his mother told:
In the late 1920s she lived for a year in Oxford. Sunday lunch at the Spreadeagle in Thame with undergraduate friends was, no doubt, a good introduction to one aspect of English life for an Australian girl. On one occasion when pudding was ordered, my mother asked for sugar. While she waited for it to be brought, Mr Fothergill approached the table, and saw her untouched plate.
‘Is there something wrong with the pudding, Madam?’
‘Thank you, but I’m just waiting for some sugar.’
‘I think you will find it sweet enough.’
‘Oh, but I like the grit.’
‘Madam, I shall bring you some sand.’
This is an interesting window into a past time and if you know anything about the Bright Young Things and 1920s culture it may be worth a look.
The writer of this diary, John Fothergill was the proprietor of the Spreadeagle at Thame in Oxfordshire in the 1920s. This diary runs from 1922 to 1930. It is separated by year rather than by day and is basically a series of recollections of people and topics written at the end of the day.
Fothergill was an interesting character. He was an art student at The Slade and knew Augustus John and William Rothenstein. In 1898 he opened a gallery in London. He was a close friend of Reginald Turner, Robbie Ross and Oscar Wilde. Wilde gave him an inscribed copy of The Ballad of Reading Gaol.
As an innkeeper Fothergill was notably irascible and there are certainly shades of Basil Fawlty in his attitude to some of his clientele. He did though gain a national reputation for keeping a good house and for the quality of the food. Many of the bright young things” visited and stayed and Waugh was a regular visitor. It was close enough to Oxford to attract dons and undergraduates.
The diary is full of amusing anecdotes and Fothergill’s irritation with the general public. He was undoubtedly a snob and there are stories of him adding to the bill if he didn’t like or approve of someone, although these may be apocryphal. The stories aren’t.
Two ladies complained about the cost of garaging their car and were told, “If you care to take it up to your bedroom there will be no charge for the garage.”
Jonathon Persse recalls a story his mother told:
In the late 1920s she lived for a year in Oxford. Sunday lunch at the Spreadeagle in Thame with undergraduate friends was, no doubt, a good introduction to one aspect of English life for an Australian girl. On one occasion when pudding was ordered, my mother asked for sugar. While she waited for it to be brought, Mr Fothergill approached the table, and saw her untouched plate.
‘Is there something wrong with the pudding, Madam?’
‘Thank you, but I’m just waiting for some sugar.’
‘I think you will find it sweet enough.’
‘Oh, but I like the grit.’
‘Madam, I shall bring you some sand.’
This is an interesting window into a past time and if you know anything about the Bright Young Things and 1920s culture it may be worth a look.
October 1, 2015
(Found this in the giant second hand bookshop in Rochester. I'm a sucker for social history and have been trying to find a good 'pub' inside view. This isn't it, as it's more 'hotel', but it's good fun).
It's workaday and no-nonsense as writing (he admits it's often pulled together when he's knackered), but often entertaining. For sure, he was a pioneer of 'real food' and pointing to the good sense that ultimately saved British cooking from death-by-boiling. But it's more entertaining, perhaps, for its proto-Basil Fawlty humour (inadvertent and intentional). Fothergill was a terrific snob, hugely curmudgeonly; at one moment incredibly tender, generous and sensitive, at others barking at riffraff for using his loo without buying a drink or not saying please. Ultimately, you have here a great English eccentric. Lewd too, in an entertainingly dufferish way (every other young lady is 'lovely'. Though there's a rather brave homoerotic streak going on there too. Lots of chaps have fine faces and good teeth).
It's interesting too, social history-wise. I love the 'County' and 'Farmer' tribalism. I was surprised (well, a little) by his impatience with 'The Hunt'. It's still very Victorian when it comes to disapproval of unmarried coupling and - a few decades on - of 'shop girls'. There's also a moment of what looks like casual inter-war antisemitism (though looking at his peers, I think the issue was more that these undesirable visitors were 'Cockneys').
The idea too that at this point (in the late twenties), he's known Oscar Wilde, and looks back on those 'nineties' types as we today might look back on the sixties or seventies types with a sigh and a 'blimey, they're still at it'. The nineties - 'The Naughty Nineties' - were clearly a far better laugh than our nineties.
All told, a nice fire-sider. Nothing profound, but full of character.
It's workaday and no-nonsense as writing (he admits it's often pulled together when he's knackered), but often entertaining. For sure, he was a pioneer of 'real food' and pointing to the good sense that ultimately saved British cooking from death-by-boiling. But it's more entertaining, perhaps, for its proto-Basil Fawlty humour (inadvertent and intentional). Fothergill was a terrific snob, hugely curmudgeonly; at one moment incredibly tender, generous and sensitive, at others barking at riffraff for using his loo without buying a drink or not saying please. Ultimately, you have here a great English eccentric. Lewd too, in an entertainingly dufferish way (every other young lady is 'lovely'. Though there's a rather brave homoerotic streak going on there too. Lots of chaps have fine faces and good teeth).
It's interesting too, social history-wise. I love the 'County' and 'Farmer' tribalism. I was surprised (well, a little) by his impatience with 'The Hunt'. It's still very Victorian when it comes to disapproval of unmarried coupling and - a few decades on - of 'shop girls'. There's also a moment of what looks like casual inter-war antisemitism (though looking at his peers, I think the issue was more that these undesirable visitors were 'Cockneys').
The idea too that at this point (in the late twenties), he's known Oscar Wilde, and looks back on those 'nineties' types as we today might look back on the sixties or seventies types with a sigh and a 'blimey, they're still at it'. The nineties - 'The Naughty Nineties' - were clearly a far better laugh than our nineties.
All told, a nice fire-sider. Nothing profound, but full of character.
August 17, 2022
This is an excellent books, insofar as it is a physical object. It is beautifully bound in cloth. Has some amusing and entertaining illustrations and an attractive font on good quality paper.
As for the text, John Fothergill appears to have been a notorius snob and exhaustive name dropper and tells of his experiences as an Inn keeper in what is supposed to be a droll and humourous manner but which becomes tedious after page 3. If it wasn't such a pretty object I would have given up on it on numerous occasions. The only time I agreed with the author was when he sent it to his publisher suggesting that it wasn't worth publishing and nobody would read it. Unfortunately he was only half right. (I appear to be using Fothergill's tone. I have been brain washed).
As for the text, John Fothergill appears to have been a notorius snob and exhaustive name dropper and tells of his experiences as an Inn keeper in what is supposed to be a droll and humourous manner but which becomes tedious after page 3. If it wasn't such a pretty object I would have given up on it on numerous occasions. The only time I agreed with the author was when he sent it to his publisher suggesting that it wasn't worth publishing and nobody would read it. Unfortunately he was only half right. (I appear to be using Fothergill's tone. I have been brain washed).
June 9, 2016
Another charity shop purchase.
I had known about this gentleman for some time and had read parts of this book as extracts so was pleased to find a copy.
It was incorrectly sold ' as signed by author ' based on the fact there was an inscription inside from John and Shirley to a Fiona.
As Fothergill died in 1957 he clearly could not sign anything in 1989, the date on the inscription.
However it turns out that a John and Shirley gave this to Fiona as she was the little girl leaning on the pub sign on the cover photograph, repeated inside.
A great book, by an highly educated and knowledgeable man, a connoisseur of food ( he was chef at his pubs) and wine, art, he was no bad an artist himself.
He seemed to know a mass of famous people who were fed or boarded at The Speadeagle.
He was also a consummate snob and as others have pointed out perhaps a prototype Basil Fawlty.
Perhaps the difference was that Fothergill was better than many of his would be customers whereas Fawlty never was !
I had known about this gentleman for some time and had read parts of this book as extracts so was pleased to find a copy.
It was incorrectly sold ' as signed by author ' based on the fact there was an inscription inside from John and Shirley to a Fiona.
As Fothergill died in 1957 he clearly could not sign anything in 1989, the date on the inscription.
However it turns out that a John and Shirley gave this to Fiona as she was the little girl leaning on the pub sign on the cover photograph, repeated inside.
A great book, by an highly educated and knowledgeable man, a connoisseur of food ( he was chef at his pubs) and wine, art, he was no bad an artist himself.
He seemed to know a mass of famous people who were fed or boarded at The Speadeagle.
He was also a consummate snob and as others have pointed out perhaps a prototype Basil Fawlty.
Perhaps the difference was that Fothergill was better than many of his would be customers whereas Fawlty never was !
April 5, 2010
This book covers John Fothergill's days as an English innkeeper from the mid-1920s to about 1930. When he purchased the inn, it apparently served mainly salesmen and local workers, but over the years he developed a more selective clientele of intellectuals, writers, politicians, and others. He tells many humorous stories of the rich and famous of his day. Although I enjoyed the book, I am sure that if I had been an Englishman reading it in the 1930s it would have meant much more to me, for I would have recognized many more of the names he mentioned. Also, I expect that I am deaf to much of the English humor in the book. Nonetheless, I recommend this diary as a leisurely stroll through a much more leisurely era than our own.
October 11, 2023
OK diary, not to be read in one sitting but dipped into now and then. An innkeeper in England in the 1920s, very opinionated and only liking a nicer clientele and letting others know they are not wanted. Some excess reciting of names we may or may not know. This second reading I skimmed a fair amount
April 9, 2013
John Fothergill kept the Spreadeagle at Thame in the 1930's transforming a fairly average country pub into a venue of choice for the gentry, the dons and students of Oxford, and the glitterati. Fothergill was an incorrigible name-dropper and the great and the good adorn his pages, much as they would have done had he been a gossip columnist. It is sometimes a little bit self-conscious, but there are some really great stories thrown away in here.
"Romney Summers brought in a man to dinner. He told me he had overtaken him just outside Oxford, and that they had raced here, and then going level up the straight into the town he'd invited him to dine here. They had a magnum between them..." Then drove off of course. Steeds were Bentley and Vauxhall.
It was of course, a different world, and that's what makes this book so entertaining.
"Young Eyres-Monsell has been staying here. He is an imperious, noisy lad with a graceful nature. He has recently got notoriety by having a duel in Oxford in Victorian costume, and being fined by the Proctors. He'll get on very well."
"A wet Sunday. We lunched 103, plus 11 chauffeurs. Evan Morgan said he'd never seen so many people in so small a place. He didn't make it any better by bringing his Australian crow, which ran amok and pecked girls' ankles, having first laid an egg upstairs on the dresssing table."
"Romney Summers brought in a man to dinner. He told me he had overtaken him just outside Oxford, and that they had raced here, and then going level up the straight into the town he'd invited him to dine here. They had a magnum between them..." Then drove off of course. Steeds were Bentley and Vauxhall.
It was of course, a different world, and that's what makes this book so entertaining.
"Young Eyres-Monsell has been staying here. He is an imperious, noisy lad with a graceful nature. He has recently got notoriety by having a duel in Oxford in Victorian costume, and being fined by the Proctors. He'll get on very well."
"A wet Sunday. We lunched 103, plus 11 chauffeurs. Evan Morgan said he'd never seen so many people in so small a place. He didn't make it any better by bringing his Australian crow, which ran amok and pecked girls' ankles, having first laid an egg upstairs on the dresssing table."
November 19, 2012
I have to give this one five stars.
Any author whos work can get me laughing the way "Ann Innkeeper's Diary" has, certainly deserves a full five stars. This book is the medicine everybody needs now and again.
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you Mr. Fathergill!
Thank you!
Any author whos work can get me laughing the way "Ann Innkeeper's Diary" has, certainly deserves a full five stars. This book is the medicine everybody needs now and again.
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you Mr. Fathergill!
Thank you!
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August 2, 2010Edition irrelevant.2005-06-08
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews