‘Welcome to the middle of nowhere,’ said Richard, the receptionist, as I appeared with suitcase in the reception of the Lord Crewe Arms, only a few minutes before a concerned local ran in with the passport I had dropped outside. This was Blanchland, Northumbria: a town of approximately 80 people, several chickens, some dogs and a vast landscape of green field, hill and forest.
Other than this hotel, the village contains a general store and a tea room. On my one-minute stride to the latter, a trio of chickens were crossing the road. They got to the other side (not a car in sight to send them flapping), although it was later revealed that a gamekeeper’s dog had a little too much fun with the fourth chicken a few days before and it’s now too nervous to hit the village.
Inside the White Monk Refectory and Tearoom, staff are full of northern charm. Housed in the hamlet’s former school building, with high ceilings and wooden rafters, it serves a selection of homemade quiches, sandwiches and cakes. Its tea gets raving reviews, but the hot chocolate came with a side dish of marshmallows and chocolate flakes that is not to be missed. Naturally, I decanted the whole thing in.
