Opposite the pretty church, surrounded by picture-perfect Shropshire hills, is an 18th-century pub that’s been remarkably reinstated; today, the Pheasant is owned by the locals. John is co-op chairman, Mark is chef, Sarah does front of house. The front bar is cosy (cushioned leather sofa and chairs, wood-burner in the chimney breast, rugs strewn on the tiled floor), the second bar is painted a deep chestnut, and the dining room is in an oak-framed extension at the back, its windows filling it with light. There’s an orchard in the beer garden providing fruits for the kitchen, they tune their menus to the seasons and they seek out local suppliers (including lamb from the field next door). The beers include Hobson’s and other Shropshire breweries, the wines are from Bibendum, and if you want to stay the night, you can. Three bedrooms, reached via an external stair, are spotless, sober, spanking new, and decorated in restful colours (whites, greys, olive greens). Bathrooms are immaculate with tip-top showers, one room wakes to splendid views, and we hear the breakfasts are fabulous.