Premier Inn Gloucester Little Witcombe Hotel

Picture this: I’m standing in a field, glued to the spot, as a herd of cows slowly ambles toward me. No, this wasn’t a pastoral nightmare—it was my morning walk from the Premier Inn Gloucester Little Witcombe Hotel. The cows were just curious, but I was already late for breakfast. (Classic me—prioritizing bovine encounters over bacon.)

That’s the thing about this hotel: it’s plonked right in the middle of the Cotswolds countryside, but it’s still a stone’s throw from the M5. You get the “ooh, look at the rolling hills” vibe without having to navigate a single dirt track. A miracle of modern budget hospitality, really.

First impressions: the car park and the cows

Pulling into the car park, I half-expected a hay bale instead of a reception desk. Instead, there’s a sleek, modern building that looks like it was beamed in from a business park—but with better air. The real star, though? The view from the lobby windows: green fields, sheep, and yes, those bossy cows.

Check-in was so quick I almost missed the chance to complain about the drive. The staff were chirpy—almost suspiciously so—like they’d been trained to smile even if the Wi-Fi went down. (Spoiler: the Wi-Fi was fine. I checked Instagram immediately, because priorities.)

The room: a box of surprises

Let’s talk about the room. It’s a Premier Inn, so you know the drill: a bed that’s basically a cloud, a TV with 57 channels of nothing, and a bathroom that’s clean enough to eat off the floor. (I didn’t test that, but you could.) The highlight? My window faced the cows again. I felt like a VIP—Very Important Person for Pastoral Living.

There’s a small desk for “working,” but let’s be real: you’ll probably end up staring out the window, contemplating why those sheep look so judgmental. The blackout curtains are aggressively effective—I woke up at 10 a.m. thinking it was midnight. Worth the £79 rate alone.

Food: the land of sausages and second helpings

The on-site restaurant, Brewers Fayre, is where the magic (and the calories) happen. Breakfast is a buffet—think sausages that snap, bacon that crunches, and a toaster that’s clearly never met a slice of bread it didn’t want to burn. I ate three plates. No regrets.

Dinner was… well, it was dinner. The menu is unapologetically British: fish and chips, steak and ale pie, and a “healthy” option that’s probably just a smaller portion of chips. I ordered the burger. It came with a side of fried onions that smelled so good, the table next to me ordered one too. (Sorry, not sorry.)

The bar area is cozy, with a fireplace that’s always lit—even in summer, I swear. I sat there with a pint, watching the sunset turn the cows into silhouettes. It was almost poetic. Almost. Then someone’s kid started crying, and the moment shattered. Still, points for effort.

Location, location, location (and the lack of cows in your bed)

You’re here for the location, obviously. Ten minutes from Gloucester Quays for shopping, 15 from Cheltenham for spas, and right next to a legendary pub, The Little Witcombe Inn. I popped in for a quick pint—and stayed three hours. The barman told me the ghost of a sheep haunts the place. I believed him.

But the real draw? The walks. You can hike up to the Cotswold Way right from the hotel’s back gate. I tried it. Got lost. Found a cow. Made a friend. (The cow’s name was Derek, I decided.) It’s the kind of accidental adventure that makes you forget you’re staying at a chain hotel.

The verdict: cows, comfort, and zero pretension

Let’s be honest: you’re not coming to a Premier Inn for a Michelin star or a butler. You’re coming because it’s reliable, sleeps you decently, and doesn’t charge you £15 for a bag of peanuts. The Little Witcombe one goes a step further—it gives you a view that costs nothing extra and a staff that remembers your name. (Or at least your room number.)

Would I stay again? Absolutely. But I’d pack a camera for the cows and a Game Boy for the Wi-Fi glitches. And maybe skip the healthy option—life’s too short for sad salads when there’s steak pie on the menu. Honestly, the only thing missing was a hot tub. Unless you count the cow pats. (I don’t.)

So, if you want a cheap night away that doesn’t feel like a punishment, book a room here. Just don’t be surprised if you wake up with a hoofprint on your window and a sudden craving for bangers. That’s the Little Witcombe charm—it’s rudely, beautifully, British.