THE PIG NEAR BATH by Maggie O'Sullivan
I’m at the Pig near Bath. My room looks out over mature trees and a patchwork of green fields. I push up the sash windows, breathe in the clean Mendips air, and take my coffee back to bed, a vast, pencil-post affair buried under a cloud of white linen. Shall I draw the roll-top bath at the foot of the bed or go for the large monsoon shower in the immaculate bathroom? Mustn’t take too long – the retro alarm clock on the bedside table tells me it’s already 9am and I don’t want to miss breakfast