More McGonagall than Wordsworth, only one hotel in Grasmere seems happy to drag the latter poet's name through the sheep dip. Somehow awarded four stars (unless those are bullet holes in the signs), the Wordsworth manages to capture the essence of tired, floral hell in one of Cumbria's most beautiful villages.

Snootier than an English butler, the hotel keeps its Steptoe disdain for all but its most blue-rinsed guests. One can only hope it has aspirations to one day growing into a retirement home.

In its favour, the hotel does manage to incentivize even the laziest of walkers.

Get to Grasmere and you will only avoid it with great skill.

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