This is an immaculate country pub: super swish, modernity transposed neatly into the old. Very much a London-by-Cotswolds place rather than an old fashioned rural boozer. And so it’s perfect for weekenders in search of Jeremy Clarkson’s lager, Hawkstone, sausages with mustard, and locally made sourdough bread, available doused lovingly in pork dripping.
Service is slick here, staff move quickly on the old stone floors, flitting between wooden tables at which the Range Rover set discuss the matters of the day: Lily Allen’s divorce, independent schools and plans for Courchevel.
