Whenever we’re in Leicester we tend to make a stop at the Fieldhead, which is conveniently located on the escape route north, unable to decide whether it is in Fieldhead or Markfield.
It’s a destination pub of the type that can sell as many Sunday roasts as bums it can seat. The food is good quality contemporary British, but lacks the invention expected of a gastropub (although it is priced in that bracket).
But the Fieldhead does need to work on its real ales. Old Speckled Hen was served frog-eyed and soon when flat, Greene King IPA was not much better.
Uploaded by mobile phone to Stephen Newton’s diary of sorts