As you head up the driveway under a canopy of trees that flank either side with the gravel crunching under your tyres any troubles that you may have been experiencing will begin to vaporise and softly replaced with a fresher more refined existence.

Langar Hall was once occupied by Imogen Skirving who, in order to save her home, started to take in guests and serve dinner; without any experience in hospitality she became a local legend and National treasure. Tragically, Imogen died suddenly in 2016 but her grand daughter has admirably picked up the baton to continue a long loved tradition.

These days we are encouraged to seek authenticity and yet can find little of it, once you’ve parked your car and your troubles you’ll soon realise what is meant by this as Langar Hall is a true representation.

Quirky, charismatic with nooks and crannies of unspoken treasure, Langar Hall has a menu and wine list that compliments all else it offers and knocks a six over the boundaries and the fields beyond. It challenges anything that you’ll expect in any modern Capital, but does so humbly and without affectation.

From Imogen you could always expect the unexpected, and in a world where so much is homogenised how great is that? Long live the lore- that’s lore spelt lore.