Perhaps my expectations are unreasonable, but when I asked if there was an elevator to the room, the person that checked us in explained that in hotel as old as the Wheatsheaf, that was not possible. Ok then, I wrongly assumed that someone younger than us (I’m 68 and my husband is 73) would give us a hand with our bags. We’re both in very good shape and quite capable, but just out of a sense of good hospitality, that would be offered. It was entirely up to us to get our bags to the last room on the 2nd floor. We tried breakfast the next morning as the dinner the night before was ok. I asked for soft boiled eggs and while not on the menu, I didn’t think I’d have to be worried about what I’d get. They brought out 2 super hot unpeeled eggs and the eggs were completely hard and cooked through when I athe the And the server never came back to see if everything was ok. The bed was comfortable enough, the room was supposed to be rustically quaint, and the plumbing was modern. However, the shower stall was so small and the shower head so large that there was no where to stay out of the spray to lather up. There was a very deep claw footed bath tub with a handheld sprayer, but no way to really keep the spray from straying outside of the tub when you washed your hair. And the tub was so deep, it was difficult to get into and out of. We felt so unwelcome in the Wheatsheaf, that we left a day early. I definitely did not find it romantic, charming or welcoming.