Lisa D
Google
Imagine, if you will, the dynamic rolling hills of the Derbyshire Moore on a cold dreary November morning. The cold has seeped into your flesh, shivering so fast you could make butter from milk. And then you see across the road a sign saying "award winning Nag's Head Breakfast". A beacon for the last ship of the night. Hope as once again arisen in the West. The warmth of the hearth brings back, with the pains and pangs of beaten back frost, your limbs. You use them with much gusto as the delicious fayre is brought forth by a buoyant barmaid. The sausages and bacon, locally sourced, leave your hunger sated. Everything cooked with Northern pride. Mushrooms and black pudding; beans galore. Just a shame, we could have had two more. Best breakfast I have no doubt. Come here my friends, don't miss out.