I thought that I was a pub hotel that we were going to be staying in but this turns out to be a poshly named restaurant with rooms.

Our room is at the front and has that great view that I put on the post last evening.

Dinner was an odd affair that felt like it was trying to be up market but not quite making it. The food was good, but not special, yet it was arranged on the plates as if it was in some super smart place. The trouble was things has been under the heat lamps for a bit too long and so the salad leaves had dried and even gone a bit crispy.

There were sweet girls serving us, but unfortunately they hadn’t been trained and so they were just their natural selves. That had a degree of charm, but when they knew the words for what they were serving, but not what those words meant, the effect was spoiled somewhat. Suzy politely explained what a langoustine is to one of the girls and the lovely little pop said “Ooh, I don’t think I’d like eating that!”

The innocence was charming, but not what you’d expect.

We were by far the youngest there, but I’m pleased to say we weren’t the only girl couple. It was rather hushed in the restaurant, but who cares, the view was completely wonderful, calming rather than dramatic.

After dinner last night we went down the road to the pub, the Red Lion, for a couple of halts and to sit out in what would have been a perfect evening were it not for the flying bitey bastards that were a bit annoying.

This is the bridge we sat looking at – it was nearly 10 o’clock at this point, and I was thinking what a lucky girl I am. I wonder if I’ll still be saying that when I have tackled a few of the hills – if I never write another post you’ll know I died here! Breakfast time now though.

Bridge at Burnsall

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