As we drove across the empty moors having been sent that way by a sat nav with a sense of humour we began to relax into the rural life. It was to be a welcome break from our increasingly frantic life in Newcastle-upon-TYne -the party city.
The market town of Pickering looked perfect as we drove in. The ducks and ducklings swimming down the gentle river, the flowers in full bloom, the Yorkshire stonebuilt houses resplendent in the summer sun.
As we were shown to our room in the main building we could hear the gentle voices of the local traders packing up for the night and vacating the market place upon which the hotel stands.
Our room was a little tatty, in need of a good lick of paint and the tightening of the odd screw to make the doors on the cabinet look level. We did reflect on the price of our superior room, consider it too expensive and worry about those who must be in the standard accommodation.
The rest of the hotel main building like our room would have been grateful for a revamp.
Still the beer was good, the staff friendly and the village appeared peaceful. All was well.
We ate dinner in a side room as the restaurant had been confiscated for a wedding. It was cramped but we overlooked that. The food whilst above average for a pub was nothing special. Indeed my langoustine looked painfully thin and the meat from the shell was hardly worth the effort. We overlooked that. We even overlooked the complete failure to actually bring a glass of sweet wine that I had ordered.
And so we retired to bed. The irritations in the service and quality of the room were nothing compared with the utterly appalling experience of having a room which overlooked Pickering Village at night. This town would make the centre of our home city centre look tame. The antics of the customers of the local licenced premises was disgraceful. Having been a criminal lawyer for nearly 20 years there is little that shocks me but the language used, largely by Yorkshire young ladies was the worst I have ever heard. Most of the requests made of the Yorkshire boys were illegal and certainly immoral. Other terminology used was that usually only heard in an anatomy lesson or witness box. Every public order offence I am aware of seemed to have been committed. Pickering is loud and violent. Revolting. Pickering town centre that night. A disgrace - nothing less.
After a really rather good breakfast we were glad to leave the White Swan.
So an ok pub with shabby but ok rooms and reasonable food (but very good breakfasts). We could have overlooked all the inadequacies if we could have been able to sleep. As it was we were glad to get back to our North East home.
If you want a rural town in James Herriott mode steer clear of PIckering on a Friday Night. And Pickering - if you want normal human beings to frequent your town - do something before it is too late.
It is a shame but we won't go back to the White Swan.






Value
Location (e.g., convenience, views)







