The perfect place to check out of city life and rehabilitate alone
The Ribble valley is possibly still so beautiful because many people have no idea where it is. I went on holiday to Clitheroe recently. Yes, I know that sounds like something Alan Bennett would have Thora Hird say, but it was an excellent break, full of dinners about which I still dream: fine country pubs, genuinely warm service. Don’t make me delve into my black book of joyless Lake District experiences yet again, but suffice to say, a recent trip to the Daffodil in Windermere rekindled my wrath.
Meanwhile, the magical Ribble valley, somewhere between Lancashire and the southernmost edge of the Yorkshire Dales, hides in plain sight as Britain’s finest jewel for the tourist-who-does-dinner.
Related: The Pointer, Brill, Buck: 'If this is the future of hospitality, count me out’ – restaurant review
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