Let's move to… Southwell, Nottinghamshire | Money | The Guardian

Let's move to… Southwell, Nottinghamshire | Money | The Guardian

What's going for it? Imagine a town like a posh, horsey Jilly Cooper of a lady, swoosh of slightly bouffanty hair swept back with an alice band. Probably wearing jodhpurs and a jerkin. Game for anything. The kind of town most parents would love. That's Southwell. It's the prettiest spot in Nottinghamshire. True, there aren't many rivals for that title, but that's not to diminish its attractions: a fine minster (one of Let's Move To's favourite ecclesiastical buildings, as it 'appens), a splendid close of appropriately Trollopean Georgian houses around said minster, some delicious old taverns, a racecourse, shops selling artisan feather dusters, folk festivals, teashops, of course, birthplace of the Bramley apple, a general air of entitlement and to-the-manner-born. It has everything a cathedral city ought to have, only at a fraction of the size. Southwell is like York or Winchester shrunk to quarter-size. Weird. Even the grand minster looks diddy. Though, sadly (cue cheesy link), the shrinking doesn't extend to the house prices. You'll need a normal-sized wallet to buy round here, alas.

The case against Especially small – I'd be bored witless .......