AN INSPECTOR CALLS
He pays his way... and tells it like it is
WHEN you’re not quite in the mood for live music, young children rushing about in high spirits and harried staff making sure everyone follows the rules, it can grate.
But one must not let the curmudgeon conquer in these circumstances, and so we grab our bags and make for the beer garden (just as Sweet Caroline starts up and let’s just say it’s not Neil Diamond on vocals), from where we enter The Greyhound Inn and are shown to our room.
Then it’s a case of fleeing the premises as soon as possible and finding a bridle path to explore some of the glorious Vale of the White Horse, about a mile south of Wantage in Oxfordshire.
We’re in far better spirits on returning from our walk, and not only because the band has packed up and the children have been escorted home.
We get the impression that The Greyhound is the heartbeat of this pretty village, with its mix of thatched cottages and traditional red-brick houses, some of which date back to the early 18th century.
It’s the sort of place author Bill Bryson waxed lyrical about in his book chronicling Britain’s quirky charms — battered wood floors, a mish-mash of tables and chairs, various interconnected nooks and crannies, a central bar (no loitering here, sadly), a variety of warm real ale and the buzz of families pretending that everything is normal.
The eight rooms are named after places nearby. We’re in Lambourn, which has a connecting sitting room ideal for smaller guests. There’s plenty of gnarled bare beams and windows on both sides. The huge bed is dressed in white luxury and is wonderfully comfortable, but it’s not a room you would choose to spend a lot of time in.
In fact, you might dismiss the Greyhound as predictably pleasant until sampling the food. My charred broccoli salad starter with green beans, peas, broad beans, toasted seeds and fresh chilli is terrific. And then we both opt for the 10oz rump steak, which is far more tender than either of us expect. And our first round of drinks comes complimentary as a reward for booking direct.
Other hotels and inns should follow suit, rather than letting the likes of booking.com cream off hefty percentages.