Westbury-on-Severn is close, but it still feels like a dormitory village for Gloucester.
The floods hitting the northerly Severn towns seem to have spared Westbury, though it was too muddy to walk the half mile down to the Severn to measure the height of the river for you.
Not a lot to say about a village of 1,792, but the Dutch water garden at Westbury Court is a gem, based on my view through the fence.
Oddly the church steeple has escaped from the church.
Dutch garden, church steeple, pub. All villages should have all of those. And a Chinese takeaway.
The dining room on the left is covered in fresh daffodils, and I commend the Landlady for making the Lyon so welcoming.
The beer range is tight too, but I have to squint through the San Miguel to see the weird blue one is Wye Valley Hop, which I feel compelled to go for as it’s not Cotswolds homebrew, which we know all about, don’t we ?
There’s a couple of gentlefolk noshing pie on one table, four serious looking ladies discussing “livestock” and “proxy measures” on the other, and the obligatory “bloke at the bar“, so I grab the table where I can see them all.
The Landlady apologies for serving mash instead of chips and says she’ll cook some chips especially.
“Oh no, don’t worry, no problem, I’m fine“.
Hope she doesn’t complain about the chips on TripAdvisor.
The Hop is hoppy and cool (NBSS 3), there’s a sense of village business being contracted, whether farming or car washing, and the early daffs signal the start of Spring.
But how much longer will we able to enjoy these simple pleasures ?