One mild Saturday morning in April I got up and drove into the Warwickshire countryside, where nestled away amid beautiful rolling yellow fields and rickety red brick buildings is an incredibly interesting story to be told.
Bloody hell, does this restaurant have impact! I mean how often do you drive through acres of deer scattered grounds to get to your dinner reservations?
York is up there as one of my favourite cities in the UK. This place isn’t just steeped in history, it’s positively swimming in it. Nearly every building is old and quaint and lovely, the inner city is surrounded like by a giant stone wall, there’s ghost tours, there’s people dressed as Vikings, there’s tea shops where the staff wear frilly aprons and pubs that seem as old as time itself. Stepping into York is like stepping back in time.
What I’ve been up to close to home over the last few weeks…
“I’m in love I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it!”