IN THE VALE OF THE WHITE HORSE

On the Sunday I picked up Sis from the pre-booked car park north of Bristol Temple Meads and headed home. “Anywhere you want to stop on the way” she said. Funny you should say that.  The social club at Stanford in the Vale has the sort of opening hours designed to annoy pub tickers, no… Continue reading IN THE VALE OF THE WHITE HORSE

A RETURN TO THE FLEMISH WEAVER

You’ll remember my failed attempt to conquer Corsham, whose bizarre Flemish Weaver had suddenly switched to Winter hours just as I tipped up in Autumn. Well, I never give up. My immediate thought – “Have I entered the ultimate care home ?”.  Room after room off a passageway to the bar, each with be-cardiganed gentlefolk… Continue reading A RETURN TO THE FLEMISH WEAVER