Sunday lunch is one of the meals I least like to cook. There are so many different elements that all have to be ready at the same time. I inevitably end up with overcooked something, undercooked something else, burnt something, squishy something and not enough gravy.

Thus even though Sunday lunch isn’t a particular favourite with me, I have come to enjoy the peaceful ease of letting someone else have all the stress of cooking.

Last weekend we headed deeper into Hampshire to the attractively-situated Anchor Inn. The main part of the pub has insanely low beamed ceilings; even my 5′ 5″ proved too tall to stand comfortably  under some sections. The dining area was a more regular height though, and was pleasingly decorated with mismatched chairs, wooden tables and an assortment of candlesticks.

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