Tag Archives: Smithfield

February 22

St John. It’s the daddy.

We’d escaped to the Beckford Arms at the weekend,  a gastropub with rooms, deep in the heart of the West Country. Despite being run by boys who look like they should be in a Boden catalogue, it’s well worth a visit.

Bird Of Smithfield. Something for everyone.

My friend Don told me that his cousin Alan was going to open a new restaurant in Smithfield and that we would have to try it. I was a bit worried, in that what if it’s really rubbish way. I’d have to be polite and say the right things. Not my forté. What he didn’t […]