Prior to hitting the road southwest, we spent the morning at an art gallery... but not just any old art gallery. This is a fabulous creation in an old farm just outside town with contemporary modernist art and sculptures of a rather feminist bias. Mayfair art dealers Hauser & Wirth, Mayfair, Braemar... and... Bruton, have created an oasis of culture. And having had our fill of culture and beautiful gardens, we slipped into the attached Roth Bar for a lovely light lunch.
Some of the artwork turned my stomach, but the lunch turned it back.
Worthy?... maybe. Wirth it?... absolutely!
Our upmarket B&B was lovely. It was in a period semi in the ancient high street, opposite Sexey’s Hospital - a gift from benefactor Hugh Sexey for the townsfolk, as they reached their autumn years. Not for me yet as there’s still a spring in my step.
Our en-suite room was excellent, with a range of beautiful pastels painted by the owner’s grandmother. Lovely! But the shower interested me most. Huge, room for at least two. I had an idea.
“Shall we shower together? I asked hopefully.
“No” was the unequivocal reply.
Maybe I was getting a bit too Sexey!
We dined At the Chapel. Repast then repent was our mission. The food was temptingly divine. Devilishly red beetroot carpaccio with creamy goat’s cheese and oranges kicked off our descent. Next a super-decadent pizza topped by Satan himself. Chocolate fondant and ice cream then completed our fall from grace.
The chapel had been transformed. Pews... gone; penitents... gone, but the central ‘pit’ still held sinners like us. The cross was replaced by a naked female effigy looking down on a well-stocked bar, an altar to evil spirits. A blasphematic travesty... but we had a hell of a time.