Fashionable, sexy and very, very chic. How on earth did we manage without him?

You have to wonder what the Cotswolds did before Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen moved here. Who opened the fetes, officiated at charity balls and decorated the village halls? He and wife Jackie have not only helped raise untold thousands for local good causes; they’ve also become a very real part of the Siddington community, where they live in an old farmhouse.

The Cotswolds play a bumper role in his latest project – an interiors book called Decorating with Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen. “At the core of it, there are 30 completely new interiors I had to come up with, so my team and I spent most of last year wandering the Cotswolds trying to find people to let us in, including mums at the school gate,” Laurence says.

He’s also about to launch a new range of paint for B&Q. “It’s not about whether the paint’s been formulated by a particular monastery, on some complicated Italian island, out of the earth they’ve dug themselves and the milk they’ve got from the goat,” he says. “This is all about being able to change the colour of a room quickly, easily and cheaply.”

He and Jackie have two daughters, Hermione, 11, and Cecile, 14.

Where do you live and why?

I live in Siddington because nobody else would and I was happy to draw the short straw. When Jackie saw our house, I was in India. She rang and said, ‘Shall I buy it?’ and I said, ‘All right, then’ - but she knows what she’s doing: I was really just the decorator. It was a million miles away from the good-taste Georgian rectory I’d always assumed we’d be buying, but it was a whim that worked out well; when we commit to a whim, we make it work.

How long have you lived in the Cotswolds?

Three years in April. I’m always very pleased to tell everyone we live in the Cotswolds, but we’re actually so close to Swindon that we’re only just breaking the meniscus. When we moved here, I anticipated I’d be grinding towards a reasonably gentlemanly and rather tweedy retirement in television and making some high profile and posh radio series - like the Classic FM show I do, or my annual Radio 4 series - fitting quite nicely in with the school run. But the recession rather put paid to that: now that everyone’s not ridiculously, hysterically motivated to move home, they’re looking to redecorate instead. So I’ve been raised from the dead: it’s like being rediscovered for a younger kitschier crew. Frighteningly, it’s exactly what happened to Bruce Forsyth. Fortunately, all my work is accessible from here: I’ve got Bristol; I’ve got Cardiff; I’ve got London; I’ve got Birmingham. I’m trying to get together a petition to rename Birmingham airport ‘Cotswold International’. When you’re getting on a plane in Milan, you don’t want to be joining the Birmingham queue; but the Cotswold queue would be quite smart for all the �ber-chic Milanese.

What’s your idea of a perfect weekend in the Cotswolds?

Weekends are a state of mind, never a state of diary as far as my office is concerned – or, indeed, as far as my wife is concerned. She and Lady Apsley, as everyone has more than recognised, are two of the most dominant forces within the world of Cotswold charities. I will look at the diary on a Monday morning and see that the weekend looks absolutely fine: perhaps we can go to the pub for lunch or maybe catch up with friends. Then I’m told - very gently so I won’t whinny or canter away like the show pony I am – that, actually, we’re cutting a ribbon or two; or we’re officiating at a ball; or decorating a hall. I always think it’s one of those things that one gets on and does, but there are moments where both of us think, ‘Oh, why do we do it?’ But if we didn’t, who would? We’ve got more company directors, more squillionaires, more celebrities per square foot than anywhere else in the country, yet you just don’t see them doing their job.

If money were no object, where would you live in the Cotswolds?

Money isn’t an object as far as I’m concerned – and this is something that drives my business absolutely crazy. I’ve never ever been able to understand it. It’s a rather vulgar byproduct that accrues; in fact, there’s nothing more unfashionable than having a black bank account – very showy. If there was absolutely nothing denied me, I would probably have every last piece of gravel in my drive nail-varnished; I would find a way of spending money where I live. There probably will come a time when we move on, but I would hate the idea that we would lose all contact with the Cotswolds.

Where are you least likely to live in the Cotswolds?

Strangely, the things that people outside Siddington don’t value are most valued by the people that live there. We are simply not appealing to Cotswold devotees; we’re not attractive enough for company directors who want to catch the train from Kemble every morning; we’re not that kind of place and I would not want to live somewhere like that. I love Siddington’s complete almost-banality; its - in the American term – normalcy. It has none of the canker of the Cotswolds: the overwhelming prettiness, which ensures places become dormitories. And that means that, when we have a quiz night, everybody goes along. That’s the kind of community spirit you find in places like Cornwall, or Northumbria or Wales; places that are remote. But it is rare to find it so close to a branch of Waitrose.

Where’s the best pub in the area?

I’m extremely proud of and loyal to our local pub. It’s an extraordinarily important part of village life in the same way as our post office and our church. Jason and Oi, who run The Greyhound, work very, very hard. Rural pubs are incredibly endangered by shortsighted legislation in the same way that post offices are compromised. I’m delighted we do still have that focus here in Siddington.

And the best place to eat?

Just about everyone in the area beats an excited and hungry march to Bob [Made by Bob]. The Corn Hall has made a huge difference to Cirencester. I’m also devoted to SOUSHI, the new Sushi restaurant by the post office. When we first moved here, I remember thinking that the last person out of town should turn the lights off on the way home. But, suddenly, Cirencester is the new Tetbury.

What’s the best thing about the Cotswolds?

The thing that the Japanese tourists love is the thing that I find very difficult. I still have issues trying to get aesthetically excited about houses made of fudge. I have to reboot my design antennae constantly to accommodate for the fact that such houses don’t have right angles, or corners, or straight lines so you can put cornices up. Even at home, should I stupidly and inadvertently drop a cannon ball in one corner of the bedroom, it will end up in the other corner before I can outrun it. For me, the Cotswolds are made by people rather than buildings or, indeed, by landscape, which does seem a particularly perverse thing to say in the middle of Chocolateboxfordshire. But I love here because of who we know.

... and the worst?

The name. I still don’t know what a wold is. I was trying to explain it to Meatloaf the other day, and he wasn’t getting it either.

Which shop could you not live without?

One of the wonderful things is that the bad retail news has been from the chains; independents are doing solid business. We’ve lost Woolworths and Next but, instead, we’ve got shops like Lexi Loves, the wine merchants, the shoe shop, French Grey, Peony; all of them real loved retail concepts that people have created from scratch.

What would be a three-course Cotswold meal?

I’d certainly include sushi, maybe using Bibury trout. As far as I’m concerned, it’s about using local ingredients yet being part of a much more internationally-creative outlook, not about sticking with lamb cobbler. I don’t want to be knitted into an image of the Cotswolds; we don’t inhabit a tea-cosy.

What’s your favourite view in the Cotswolds?

I do love the view from my bedroom window across the water meadow to our church. But probably one of the nicest is on the new bypass, coming from Swindon. I know that’s still Wiltshire, boo hiss; but at the top of the hill, you see the start of the Cotswolds unfold in front of you like a carpet. That’s an emotional view more than anything because it’s a sense of coming home. I get it the other way round at Birdlip, when I’m returning from Cotswold International Airport.

What’s your quintessential Cotswolds village and why?

You’ve got a lot of very professional Cotswold villages like Stow – though I suppose that’s a town, really. South Cerney is quite impressive. It’s not deepest, darkest by any means; nevertheless, there’s a sense of Vicar of Dibley-dom to it, which is appealing. There are brand leaders in Cotswold plc: Barnsley had the civilized and civilizing influence of Rosemary Verey, which is still very apparent. But I always like to come back to Siddington and appreciate the rather gritty Grand Theft Auto feel of my own village.

What’s your favourite Cotswolds building and why?

I like the dignified middle class grandeur of some of the houses round Cecily Hill. Probably my favourite bit of town is the gate with the big bush at Cirencester Park, opposite the museum; Lady Apsley’s bush.

Starter homes or executive properties?

You fundamentally have to look at whether buying a home is a good idea at all. It’s a very British aberration and obsession. But you can’t just build executive houses and you can’t just build starter homes. I’ve worked a lot with house builders and one of my big things is that you have to have a real sense of diversity in new developments. There has to be a community right from the outset. That’s the whole point of rural life and why I love it: it’s about the diversity of people who live there.

What would you change about the Cotswolds or banish from the area?

The only thing that really gets me is the use of the word ‘Cotswolds’ in conjunction with beige walking garments or plastic storage boxes. For some reason, people put Cotswold next to beige things. My Cotswolds is fashionable, sexy and even continental in parts. So why, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, is Cotswold something to do with a beige anorak?

What’s the first piece of advice you’d give to somebody new to the Cotswolds?

Have a party before you install electric gates. It took us a year before I felt we knew everyone well enough to not feel as if we were trying to keep people at bay. I also quite like the idea of having a turret and a hermit to open the gates manually – he’d look a bit like Marty Feldman, with a swinging hurricane lamp. But then you’d need a coach and that’s going too far.

And which book should they read?

Well, conveniently – Decorating with Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen. It’s the first time I’ve done a big interior design book. At the core of it, there are 30 new interiors featuring real homes from all over the country. Mums at the school gate would casually say how they were having difficulty finding a particular sort of light switch for their bedroom. Within a couple of minutes, I’d persuade them that my team and I should come in and completely redo their bedroom around the perfect light switch.

Have you a favourite Cotswolds walk?

I love the long straight drive at Cirencester Park; its alignment with the church. I love having my spaniels prancing round, feeling as if I’m in a particularly glamorous 18th century portrait. Sometimes I dress accordingly, with knee breeches and a powdered wig; no one is ever surprised.

If you were invisible for a day, where would you go and what would you do?

The kneejerk reaction, obviously, is into a series of ladies’ changing rooms and maybe the bra-fitting department of Rackhams - but who needs to be invisible? Charm will get you anywhere. Having said that, the idea of being invisible is a nightmare. Bang goes any chance of getting a series recommissioned on the BBC. It’s like one of those horrible dreams where all your teeth fall out.

To whom or what should there be a Cotswolds memorial?

With our village in Cornwall, I get very teary about the lifeboat men who do an extraordinary job; hill rescuers are other unsung heroes. But as we don’t have that compelling dangerous need in the same way in the Cotswolds, I’d have to raise a memorial to bossy women. I always find myself borderline-erotically distracted by bossy women anyway but, without them, nothing would happen in the Cotswolds whatsoever. If someone rolled a grenade into a WI meeting that contained Lady Apsley and my wife, god knows what would happen; we’d be rudderless and udderless.

With whom would you most like to have a cider?

We’ve been given two Siddington Russet trees – a completely endangered species - and idea is that we will eventually get cider out of them. What I’d like, more than anything, is to be able to have a cider with my wife. We so rarely have the opportunity to be in the same place at the same time. Because we’re both doing things all over the country, we end up meeting in insalubrious motels: we’re having this rather naughty affair with each other after 25 years together. But although it would be nice to spend some time alone, we’d end up missing the girls. We are quite a family unit. It’s great fun when it’s Llewelyn-Bowens contra mundum.

Decorating with Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen is published by Quadrille, price �20. For more information on Laurence, visit www.llb.co.uk