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Poppy, a dark curly cockapoo, sitting on a tree stump with a pint of Hawkstone lager, rolling Cotswolds hills visible through a farm gate.

Visiting Clarkson's pub, The Farmers Dog

Poppy on a tree stump, a pint of Hawkstone lager beside her, Cotswolds hills rolling out through a farm gate in the background. She sat there for a solid five minutes while everyone else shuffled around trying to find a table. She’d already found hers.

The Farmers Dog is Jeremy Clarkson’s pub on the Burford side of the Cotswolds, and it has the kind of crowd that drives an hour on the basis of a TV show. The beer garden was packed. The Hawkstone was cold. The hills were exactly as advertised.

The stump shot. Poppy, unbothered. Hawkstone lager, untouched. Hills, impeccable.

The rose was in the pub garden, growing against the Cotswolds stone wall like it had been there since the building went up. It was a quiet corner of the garden, away from the queue at the bar.

The beer garden had a gentler side: roses against the stone wall, well away from the pint queue.
Poppy found the log. The Hawkstone found Poppy. This was her afternoon.
The shot that started it all. Poppy and a Hawkstone at The Farmers Dog.

The pub itself is the kind of place that knows what it is. Clarkson’s name is on it, the Hawkstone branding is everywhere, and the beer garden is designed to be photographed. It works because the setting is genuinely good: a working farm, a proper view, a menu that doesn’t try too hard.

The Farmers Dog, from the outside. It looks exactly like you'd expect, which isn't a criticism.
The beer garden. Busy, but big enough that it didn't feel cramped.
The garden wraps around the building. There's always a corner to find.
Late afternoon light on the garden. The hills through the gate are the best part of the view.

Back at the stump, Poppy hadn’t moved. Same spot, same expression. The Hawkstone was better at room temperature than expected, or maybe that was just the hills.