The Pelican inn is easy to find on the old London to Bath main road, now the A4, with parking conveniently both sides. Froxfield, not fox field but Froxfield. I like to think of maidens in frocks photographed against a backdrop field, not noticing the watching fox. The village is between Hungerford (unfortunately well known for the modern times Hungerford massacre), and Marlborough, known to most as the name of school, to some as the name of a brand of cigarettes.
Froxfield's the Pelican is a free house with wifi and its leaflet claims that it attracts walkers. It is also on the little of venues for overnight stays for those indulging in the nearby Michelin starred restaurant The Harrow, which has an interesting wine cellar and holds dinners with talks by visitors from vineyards as far away as Australia, which is what attracted my family to the area.
The Pelican inn takes its name from the Pelican omnibus which used to stop outside the door. We stopped and parked in one of the two car parks on either side.
Walk into the inn and there's reception in the centre between the bar and the open sided restaurant room.
The place is small, fewer than ten dining tables downstairs, probably because there are fewer than ten bedrooms upstairs.
Yes, it's an old inn, with old beams and creaking floors.
I puffed anxiously up the steep staircase, clinging on to the left hand wooden handrail, fearing endless stairs, but there's only one staircase.
We three had booked two bedrooms. Bedroom numbers go up to eight, so three of us occupied a quarter of the rooms. Statistically that makes me a pretty good inspector. I chose the room overlooking the duck pond. Not sure whether the pond links to the stream, but the ducks soon sailed into view of my busy mobile phone camera lens.
In the basic bathrooms I pounded gleefully on the cute complimentary shower get and other liquids - but found no soap.I realised that those clumpsy looking (sic) Victorian taps with the cross tops are the handiest things to turn if you don't know left from right and can't remember whether taps go clockwise or anti-clockwise. I needed a firm wrench at it because I sealed it tight by turning the wrong way.
The room is small which explains the tiny double beds which leave more room to walk around. Visual appeal provided by cute cushions. British hotels tend to go for bland decor.
If you like healthy food and fresh milk, you will enjoy the thermos of fresh milk on the
tea tray. I've found that only in a two or three hotels in a lifetime of travelling worldwide. So, if
you hate sachets of long life so called milk, you will instantly enthuse about the bedroom facilities.
My family booked two rooms. Mama gets to choose. I wanted the one overlooking the back garden, tree tops seen when you lie on the bed, and duck pond viewed on tiptoe from the window.
Duck pond? Where are the ducks. Just an immobile statue. Ah - as I watched a duck sailed into view and I clicked my mobile phone camera.
Next morning I was glad to learn that the front bedroom overlooking the road did not keep anybody awake at night. Our sound sleeper said if you live in Hendon or Notting Hill, you expect to be woken once a week by drunks, fights, emergency vehicles, and learn to go back to sleep and ignore any noise. That's right.
It's a good thing I was not still lurching drunk at dawn next morning, facing the steep descent down the stairs, with only one fixed solid handrail stuck to the wall, now on my other side. One member of my family is right-handed, another left-handed, so that handrail could not please everybody.
But at the bottom of the stairs I was greeted by a welcome sight facing me, breakfast was ready, already, the table of cereals.
From my dining table I ducked down to look through the fireplace to the bar area beyond. Well-spoken regulars sat near us, but no need to ask them what to do in the area. I'd already read the leaflets telling me that the local attraction was a windmill. No more clutter - no more leaflets!
We saw a signpost to the windmill and followed it but soon got lost in winding roads one car wide. I wished I'd taken the inn's leaflet on the windmill and its postcode. So I've mentally saved the windmill as something to see on another visit to the nearby Harrow restaurant at Little Bedwyn.
The Pelican inn's bill is a good antidote to the pricey prices of your dinner round
the corner for celebrations such as an anniversary at the Harrow. Last time we splurged on the Harrow we stayed overnight at The Bear in Hungerford. The Bear is bigger, more of an all jumping hotel, but the Pelican offers a nearer and good value alternative.
I never saw the windmill, nor a pelican, only a few ducks.
Quack, quack, quack, I'll go back.
But wait - there's more - about the pelican and the ducks. After enjoying a sniff of the aromatic mandarin and bargamot shampoo bottle, I took a last look at the little 30 ml bottle in the revealing bright light of day.
I noticed the black silhouette of a pelican on the front. Another pelican was raised in relief on the cap.
The title DUCK ISLAND was printed sideways. By dint of a squint, holding the bottle up against a white background, I discovered in small print the website: www.duckisland.co.uk
The bottle gives the toiletries company address as
Duck Island Ltd
51 Queen Anne Street
London W1G 9HS.
More details about
The Pelican inn from
www.pelicanann.co.uk
www.facebook.com/pelicaninnfroxfield
The Pelican Inn,
Bath Road,
Froxfield,
Marlborough,
Wiltshire
SN8 3JY.
Tel: 01488 682479.
Angela Lansbury BA Hons is the author of twenty books on travel, etiquette, public speaking and comic poetry. She is a member of two Toastmasters International speakers' clubs, also on Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter and YouTube.
Finally I noticed rasberry 'mouse' (sic). That does sound delicious. I imagine the Romans served their favourite dish, dormouse, surrounded by raspberries. Has chef Heston Blumenthal heard of it?
