I live in Somerset but I never used to venture east of the M5. It’s well-known that they’re all devil-worshippers over there and they regularly sacrifice virgins and deflower chickens.
However, in a fit of insanity a friend of mine and his wife moved to Charlton Mackrell, which is indeed in East Somerset about eight miles outside Glastonbury. They moved there even though they aren’t hippies and weren’t held at gunpoint by nefarious kidnappers.
Recently, after adorning myself with garlic, Holy water and a crucifix , I paid them a visit. It was during this visit that I was treated to the delights of Wilkins Cider Farm in Mudgley.
It’s damp, freezing cold and has an assortment of cobwebs that must have been there for many thousands of years. Yet it has ambience by the bucketload. Couple that with some great cider and a variety of farm shop produce and you have yourself a venue that’s well worth a visit.
There must be some sleight of hand at work to make a decrepit stone barn with polar temperatures so appealing, but appeal it does. I suggest calling in for a visit if you’re ever over that way.