The Sunday Times named The Newt in
Somerset their ‘Newcomer of the Year”
2019. Their reviewer said:
“Get out there and get lost,” the barman
says, later, when I ask how I should
spend the next day. I think I know what
he means. Pulling on Hunters and a
poncho in the boot room pre-breakfast,
I strike out across the croquet lawn,
through the Victorian fragrance
gardens, past ponds with iron newt
fountains, and the walled Parabola.
“The “cyder” press and cellar
are gearing up for their daily
demonstrations, and aproned staff are
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raiding the sprawling
kitchen gardens.
I loop up through the woodland to
the edge of the deer park (which will
open to guests next year, along with a
subterranean museum of gardening —
sexier than it sounds, I’m assured) and
find myself on a high point from which
I can pick out King Alfred’s Tower one
way and Glastonbury Tor the other.
“By the time I’m back for breakfast, I’m
thoroughly de-stressed. Eight hundred
acres. Twenty-three rooms. Luxury
means many things to many people:
here at the Newt, it’s an extravagance of
space.”