Wagtail, Horwood, Wincanton

A Marston's Table Table offering, more travel cafe than local pub, at the end of the road (quite literally – the road ends with a 9 inch drop where they just stopped building it) next to a busy commercial estate within easy reach of the A303. There is a regimented car park and a large garden full of play apparatus for children, and there is a smaller enclosed garden, mainly used by smokers, offering fine views of the adjacent Travelodge. Inside, the off-the-shelf décor in the single large bar makes it feel very sterile, or it did until swarms of uncontrolled, overweight and overloud brats screamed in accompanied by their obese parents and other assorted supposed grown-ups. It was ghastly, and I felt very sorry for the pleasant, welcoming young staff who were admirably refraining from infanticide. Food was the usual pre-fabricated junk, served on a bed of grease to help the aforementioned lard-mountains maintain their shape. Two ales on the four pumps, Hobgoblin and Pedigree, but both tasted oily and were not in good condition. I wonder, in the Secret Language of Birds, does 'Wagtail' mean 'fat-magnet'? You're better off eating at the KFC next door, but at least you can stop here for a coffee or a megakeg beverage.