A room with a view and food to die for Slide down ray ban 4149 the Cotswold escarpment from Chipping Norton and the Rollrights, and you could be forgiven for thinking yourself in a different decade.
The 50s perhaps.Unsullied by mega supermarkets and trading estates, it's an attractive town of resolutely independent shops (if you're a fan of country wear, antiques or bric a brac you'll find it heaven), an unfeasibly large gaggle of pubs and views over the surrounding hills.At the heart of it, snuggly standing head and shoulders above its neighbours on the High Street, is the grand dame of south Warwickshire, the 18th century George Townhouse.Freshly spruced up last ray ban pas cher year, this Brakspear owned pub, restaurant and hotel looks cosy from the street, but is deceptively Tardis like inside, with dining rooms, going off in two directions from the comfortable bar. It's tastefully done up in minimal country style clean space with the odd picture of a badger in a suit you know the thing. Oh, and should you need any advice in a pub owned by one of the world's finest breweries, the word 'BEER' is spelled out in illuminated letters on the wall of the bar. A fine suggestion too.It being a rainy Sunday morning we had one thing on our minds: roast! We took a table in the dining room a light airy space with colourful and (crucially) comfortable mismatched ban ray chairs (none of those ex school seats so beloved of hipster eateries) and a crowd of random pictures on a bare brick wall. We gazed out at the soggy High Street outside, with its equally mismatched jumble of architectural styles, and felt smug.I had been tipped off about The George Townhouse's legendary Sunday roasts in advance and wayfarer ray ban sunglasses warned about their belt busting size. I have never been one to fall for good advice without making the same mistake myself though and undecided between chicken, pork and beef, my son and I went for a platter of all three.It was mighty fine too, with slices of slow roast Angus rump, loin of Toddenham pork with squares of hefty crackling, and moist, flavoursome chicken. It came with pigs in blankets and Yorkshire puddings the size of Mike Tyson's fists. Vegetables came separately in a huge serving, along with crisped roast potatoes cooked the proper way in beef dripping. The juicy broccoli went down particularly well. There was, of course, gallons of gravy.The fish and chips a whale sized slab of beer battered haddock with triple cooked chips (12.50) also looked good and was received with approving noises from the other young 'un. And I can vouch for the chips!The meat feast went well with the house white, a necessarily crisp refreshing and slightly citrus Le Sanglier Old Vines White from Languedoc (16 a bottle) and orange juice for the kids.I'm not sure I've ever felt so full, and needed exercise in the shape of a walk around the town and out into the countryside.
On a good day, the Rollright Stones and the Cotswold stretch of the D'Arcy Dalton Way back on the Oxfordshire border, are not to be missed. Likewise the lofty heights of the Three Hills Walk at Brailes with its amazing views over south Warwickshire. Heading the other way is Stratford, which lends itself to lazy ambles round bookshops, gawping at tourists and wanders along the swan speckled Avon.
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