Er, not quite, but it has got a banging club scene and plenty of natural chill-out zones, writes Stephen Khan
She is drunk. But good drunk. ‘Urr ye goaun tae Phewshziun?’ comes the melodic inquiry. The young woman’s accent almost makes me send a spout of lager from my mouth in an arc across the Ferry Inn.
Sadly, I let myself down and parody her. ‘Phewshziun, aye we micht.’ I shouldn’t have done that. We might all have chuckled at Cameron ‘the virgin’ Stout’s languorous vocal calls during Big Brother, but the Orcadian lilt has its charm.
Plans are afoot to transform Stonehenge in the next few years. John Ezard visits the focus of this weekend’s summer solstice
You still feel it, however long it is since you last saw Stonehenge – an odd lurch in the pit of the stomach when your car crests Countess Hill on the A303 and it first comes into view: this little cluster of part-broken stone toadstools in the middle of open countryside.
The road dips, then begins to climb again. When it reaches its highest point, it is still lower than the monument, which now looks sturdy and formidable, particularly when the sun is behind it. It still draws the eye from all over this area of Salisbury Plain, as it was meant to.