Hotel Hit Squad: “Lord knows, ‘glamping’ has been done to death, but Drover’s Rest in Herefordshire has raised the bar”


A confession. For the past eight years – while herding the children through the school run, mucking out their bedrooms or watching them trough down pasta pesto – I have regularly and secretly imagined myself to be John Wayne. Mothers are the real cowboys of this world. We spend our days corralling our semi-feral little creatures. 

They never go in the same direction, or at the same pace. They are forever hungry, forever straying away and hurting themselves. Come 6pm it is sometimes a sincere effort to stop ourselves kicking down the doors of the nearest saloon in search of gin and jaded companionship.

So Drover’s Rest seemed an appropriate Easter holiday getaway. The 16th-century farm hotel lies…

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