With folk arriving from all corners, a stroll along Hadrian’s wall in glorious weather but boggy lowland and a late, bloody hell it’s dark around here – “am I here yet arrival from Irish”- it was good to travel to a part of England ignored by many. The country’s furthest travelled flapjack having arrived, there was little doubt a Saturday stroll would invigorate us all.
Built by the guy who made Spitfires, the grounds of this NT property are superb and well worth a visit, with Rothbury’s charming village a short walk away. Miranda Hart has a bench on the patio facing us
More. The walk to the Queen’s Head pub/restaurant in Rothbury and the return was found to have left us locked out, but assisted by plucky “I’ll crawl through the window Mr. Ranger” we were able to bed down inside rather than under the rhododendrons.
