Wrington

Wrington gave the world John Locke and then, apparently satisfied, stopped happening. It is chocolate-box Mendip stone wrapped around a driveway so full it qualifies as a car park, a village that had a railway once and let it die rather than share itself with anyone who couldn't drive in. The people who arrive have finished with ambition and want a barn conversion, a view, and neighbours who won't make a fuss, all of which Wrington supplies without a word of protest. Come for the philosophy, stay because your knees have gone.