It’s 3pm on an icy Easter Saturday. My parents and I have just got back from a long walk on Exmoor, and we’re half-frozen. God, we need a hot drink. If only to wrap our hands around to let them thaw. Only problem is, we’re in the middle of a fairly remote national park. We had actually researched beforehand that the village where we were finishing (Wheddon Cross) had what’s called a pop-up tearoom (as in a tearoom which occasionally functions within the confines of the Exmoor House guesthouse). But it wasn’t popping up today, even with it being Easter weekend. And the afternoon is moving on and it’s not getting any warmer. The coffee and the cake being significant motivators in us getting round the last part of the walk so speedily, we were more than mildly concerned.

Dad suggested we try Exford (kind of unofficial capital of Exmoor…