I thought at first that this place would be the Prancing Pony. I mean Snowshill itself is a ringer for the village of Bree in Lord of the Rings. I thought we might have happened upon a tourist haven with plush sofas and leather tub chairs. Not so. This place is a local. There are clearly concessions to visitors in the enormous sloping garden with outdoor picnic tables that teeter on the edge of the car park. Last refurbished sometime in the '80s, it has patterned carpets, bench and banquette seating with low tables. In addition, the toilets are outside. If the thought of all that down home rural ambience has caused your caramel macchiato to slip from your nerveless fingers then this place might not be for you. Not that you need worry as the food is up to scratch. Ask for a menu at the bar and you get a pad and pen to fill out your order. I had the sausage egg and chips and the portion size was certainly generous - so much so that I could not finish it. Lovely chips, crisp and golden, lightly fried egg; but the sausages. Thick, piping hot, slight crunch at the ends, real juicers. Best deserving of the name 'bangers'. Drew had the gammon with pineapple which he declared delicious. He has complained in the past that gammon can have a plastic texture but certainly not in this case. I had a latte which was perfectly acceptable, rich and foamy.
Access is not bad - there is a ramp; but the doors at the entrance are not the heavy, double swing doors you tend to get at pubs. Here they are more like conservatory doors, rather narrow and you might have a limited turning circle. But Snowshill itself is no terrain for the faint hearted. This is the countryside proper. Even the playground equipment at the bottom of the garden was robust climbing frames more suited to the hardy country physique; but with patience and effort, you can make it from the car park to the pub. Just mind the ramblers. And don't trip over a hobbit.