From Worcester

Worcester was an interesting time.  I visited the "Tudor house" where a lady regaled me with stories of characters and icons of the town.  When I think of Worcester my mind goes to the China.  I spent quite a few hours going through the Royal Worcester China museum, sounds boring I know, but was actually very interesting.  Sadly though, the China is now longer manufactured here, but has been outsourced to somewhere in Asia.

As a child we used to have what we called hot sauce, otherwise known as Lea and Perrin's Worcestershire sauce.  It wasn't till my visit here that the penny dropped that this is where it comes from!  The sauce is still shipped all around the world, and apparently there are only four people at the factory who know the recipe.  Worcester was also famed for its cloth and for glove making.
People reading this of a certain age  would know of Vesta Tilley and the Tilley girls (dancers).  She was born in Worcester.  We lived next door to one of the original Tilley girls when we lived in New Zealand, a tiny wee lady well into her nineties at that time.

Leaving Worcester I followed the River Severn and back lanes to Kempsey, only five miles down the road.  This short distance meant that I didn't have to make an early start and so I went to church, making an unintended grand entrance!  On the Friday evening I wangled my way into the carol service at the cathedral.  It was ticket (free) only, but I turned up announced that I was an Australian and had only just arrived and thus didn't have chance to get a ticket.  They let me in and I got a seat right down the front where I was able to see the choir and the conductor, and was treated to some beautiful Christmas music.  Thus on Sunday I decided to attend the only Methodist church in the city which turned out to be very similar to the central mission in Adelaide.

Unbeknownst to me the entrance to the church was at the front, and as I had got caught up with the wheelchair basketballers taking a selfie, which made me about 5 mins late, I made a very prominent entrance complete with my pack etc!  I had hoped I'd know the hymns, but apart from Silent Night that was not to be.  I didn't even know the Charles Wesley one!  Still, I was made very welcome and eventually hit the road at midday.

I started by following the River Severn, but when I got to the muddy part I decided to give it a miss and headed off on some back roads, taking the long way but the day was so pleasant I didn't mind.

I have become a great fan of the garden centres which I have passed along the way, for three reasons, none of which are connected to plants or gardens.   The first is that they are on the way and don't require me to detour to access them (mind you, it could be said that in many cases I'm already on a detour!), the second is access to toilet facilities, and the third is that they are generally a source of tasty, cheap food (and coffee).  They usually also have WiFi, and on several occasions I have been able to Skype family.  On this day I managed to get a Sunday Roast at the garden centre (I'm also a fan of the Sunday lunch, a roast - available at most pubs on Sundays, and as I discovered, even the garden centre's!).

The next day, just as I was feeling quite jaded, I came across another garden centre.  Coffee and a snack was the boost I needed for the last few kms into Tewkesbury, an absolutely delightful little town.  Apart from the lovely half timbered buildings peppering the village it's claim to fame is its magnificent abbey which was across the road from my very old hotel.

The night before the locals couldn't really help me with suggested paths to take, and so using google maps I wound my way along back lanes.  Having seen how muddy the Severn Way was I decided that, though it might be more direct, it would take considerably longer to slip and slide along this way.  I still had about six miles to get to Tewkesbury, when I came across a couple weeding a future Christmas tree patch.  They gave me directions to follow the footpath across the fields thereby cutting about two miles off my route.  I had to negotiate a couple of mud patches, growing several inches as it clung to my boots, but it was considerably shorter.

The nezt day I decided to follow a man's advice that I met in the pub and follow a little of the Severn Way.  Negotiating the mud at the beginning was fairly easy, and then the path kept pretty well to a sort of levee bank with fairly firm ground underfoot............. until a fence with a locked gate.  The only way through the fence was down by the river through a little pedestrian gate,  with the only access an ankle deep mud puddle!  Needless to say, after that I stuck to the back lanes heading into Gloucester, stopping at the beautiful saxon parish church of St Mary at Deerhurst, where I had a good sing!  The. River Severn is prone to flooding, and it is quite high a present.  Apparently last year it flooded with many buildings (including a pub I stopped in) being inundated.

I have enjoyed spending a few days rest here in Gloucester, but will tell you more of that in the next post.  I have done well over 1,500 kilometres, and now feel as if I am on the homeward stretch.

Worcester Cathedral (above photos)

Heading out of Worcester along the River Severn.  The tall spire on the right is all that remains of a church, and is known as "the glovers needle", in reference to the glove making industry that once flourished in this city.

Looking back at Worcester from the lock, and below at the bridge crossing the marina.

A foot bridge crossing the Severn.

The lovely hotel I stayed in at Tewkesbury.

Tewkesbury abbey interior (above and below).

A rather gorgeous Nativity Scene inside Tewkesbury Abbey.

These Gurney furnaces, now converted to gas, are found in many public buildings.

Tewkesbury Abbey exterior (above and below).

Along the Severn Way.........

..........with some mud to negotiate at the beginning of this stretch.

The way then follows across what is basically the flood plain, but along here it is quite firm........ 

....... but here the river had risen to such an extent that getting through this mud puddle was quite tricky!

Here I walked into Deerhurst (you can just see the church in the trees in the background), and follow back lanes the rest of the way.

Walking through Shropshire

Since my last post it has been quite a week.  It has been a week of walking through the very beautiful countryside of Shropshire, a week where I was privileged to have the company of Charlotte for a few days, and a week that saw my birthday come and go.

Charlotte caught the train from her home in Stirling (in Scotland) and met me in the village of Craven Arms.  For three days the two of us, both from Stirling, but from different countries, walked the back lanes and hills of Shropshire.

Christmas decorations are everywhere.  This post box with a hat on was at Bishops Castle.......

......and we spotted this garden ornament dressed for the festive season as we were leaving Ludlow.

Christmas markets are in many villages and in Ludlow this lovely lady was buying mistletoe (£3 a "bunch").  She hangs mistletoe in her house every year because her grandmother told her that by doing that good fortune would follow the householder!

Even the food is festive.  A brace of pheasants was £1.50 from this butcher in Craven Arms.  Charlotte was wishing she could carry them home at that price.

For the three days that Charlotte walked with me we followed the back lanes that showed on "Mr Google".  However, this first day we had about a mile of walking on a busier main road, before heading down the lanes.  At the end of the first lane we came to the little hamlet of Onibury, complete with some thatched roofed houses, and the very old church of St Michael.

A thatched cottage in Onibury.........

.......and outside the church, next to the Lych gate, and sheltered by a giant tree, this simple little Nativity scene stood.

I was intrigued by the aged and weather beaten timber at the entrance to the porch of the church.

The village of Ludlow was a delight.  From to the old Victorian grandstand at the race course to the even older half timbered houses in the village itself.  Because it was such a short day of walking we had time to browse the town, though we didn't go into the castle.  

The Victorian grandstand at the race course.

This man was using willow to make baskets, a traditional craft of this region.

Ludlow castle.

We stayed at The Feathers hotel in Ludlow.  A lovely place to mark my birthday!

We spent a leisurely morning wandering around Ludlow, before following the flat back lanes to the village of Tenbury Wells.  Again, we arrived with lots of time to spare and enjoyed wandering the streets.   Our hotel was the Ship Inn, with the innkeeper being an 85 yr old gent.

This is hop growing territory and along the way we have seen quite a few fields with hop frames.  I was surprised at how high the hops must grow.  The frames are really quite high, and we saw vast paddocks (oops - fields) of them on one stretch.

On the third day of this section we followed a lane running more or less parallel to the river.  We had the bonus of no traffic as road works were in progress and so we had the road to ourselves until we got to Rochford, where the occasional vehicle started to come past us, including a trailer towed by a tractor laden with young farmers out on a shoot.  From then on our journey was punctuated by the percussion of gunfire.  Then, further on, there was even more percussion sound effects as we passed another larger group heading into the fields for a shoot.

The pump house at Tenbury Wells.  They tried to turn this into a spa town at one point, and this stylish pump house is a legacy of that.

I loved the openness of this part of Shropshire, while Charlotte on the other hand appreciated the hills we walked through the following day.

Hop frames.

The sun really highlighted the green in the fields.

The 12th century St Michael's Church, Rochford.

A tree laden with mistletoe.

The shoot.

We stopped at a farm shop to have a refreshment break before heading up the hill to catch a bus to Worcester.  Fortunately we allowed plenty of time to go the one and a half miles, because after we had been going for a long time I checked the map, and we were on the wrong road.  We motored up that hill, breaking into the occasional jog, and made it to the bus stop with about five minutes to spare!

Why was I catching a bus you ask?  I had studied the maps the previous night and was unable to find an appropriate place to stop where there was available accommodation.  It was therefore simpler to go into Worcester for the night and then head back and walk from where we had stopped the previous day.  This meant that Charlotte could have a shower in my room before catching her train home, and we were able to go to the Cathedral together and have a look around.

The next day I walked the bit I missed, following the River Severn along the muddy, slippery Severn Way for some of it, before heading back to Worcester for a rest day - but more of that later.

It was after this bridge that we missed a crucial turn, and followed the wrong road.  The bonus was that I had a shorter day the next day.

Worcester Cathedral lit at night.

 Following the River Severn, along the Severn Way (above and below)

The view across to the hills, where we made our mistake yesterday.

Seasons Greetings from the Northern Hemisphere

Merry Christmas

and a 

wonderful New Year.

May it be filled with health and happiness.

A window in the 12th century St. Michael's Church, Rochford.

This is a little note to wish you all a very happy Christmas, and peace and joy in the year ahead.  It is also a chance to say a big thank you to all of you who have encouraged and supported me with comments on this blog and sent emails since this journey began way back in mid June.  I am a long way from home and so to wake in the mornings to a message of encouragement or with news of home, no matter how mundane, helps considerably to speed me on my way.  I am loving this journey, but there are times when my thoughts fly home a bit more often!

When I am asked for my thoughts on this country they turn to Dorothea McKellar and the first and last verse of my favourite poem, My Country:-

The love of field and coppice, 

Of green and shaded lanes.

Of ordered woods and gardens

Is running in your veins,

Strong love of grey blue distance

Brown streams and soft dim skies

I know but cannot share it, 

My love is otherwise.

An opal hearted country, 

A wilful, lavish land - 

All you who have not loved her, 

You will not understand - 

Though earth holds many splendours,

Wherever I may die, 

I know to what brown country

My homing thoughts will fly.

She spent some time in England, which is what that first verse refers to, before she launches into:-

I love a sunburnt country,

A land of sweeping plains,

Of ragged mountain ranges,

Of droughts and flooding rains.

She then concludes with that wonderful summary quoted above.  Count your blessings that you're not sitting opposite me - I might be tempted to launch into the whole poem!

There have been a few glitches with WiFi over the past few days and so rather than missing a chance of sending my good wishes I thought I would do that, and then, when I get a chance there will probably be a couple of posts in quick succession!

Again, every good wish to each and every one of you, and a big thank you for your messages of support.  Know that they are greatly appreciated!

Frosts and floods

I, at last, feel as if I am making southwards progress.  I am heading towards Worcester and will then make my way to Gloucester where I have booked a room for three nights from Christmas Eve.  I'm hoping there will be a midnight carol service at the Cathedral.

It has been a mixed few days of walking.  After I left Oswestry I had a lovely time, managing to pick up, accidently, the Offa's Dyke Path.  I slipped and slithered up a hill, past a golf club, and then down the other side into the village of Llanymynech.  The previous night it had rained very heavily, and below me the view was of flooded fields.  Stopping at the pub I discovered my choices:- wading through the water, walking on a main road with heavy trucks roaring past, or catching a bus into Welshpool.  I chose the latter for safety's sake!

In Welshpool I discovered that there were problems for the next day as the road was closed due to flooding.  Checking google maps I found a cycle track that I could follow, longer, but not affected by floods.  The night was the opposite to the night before - clear and cold.  The forecast was for frost and ice.  I now know what that means, and so next time I hear "ice" I will put my ice grippers on.  I was sliding as much on ice as I was the day before in the mud!

Leaving Oswestery I walked through a lovely park managed by volunteers.  These near life size sculptures were nibbling the trees!

Looking back from Offa's Dyke to the village of Port-y-Waen

Once on top of the hill the path followed the ridge top.  The white acorn on the sign indicates a National Long Distance path, of which Offa's Dyke is one.

The path took me past the old limestone quarry above Llanmynech.

Looking towards the village of Llanymynech, and the flooding beyond.

At the bottom of the hill I came upon this sign explaining that Charles Darwin had visited this quarry to test a geological piece of equipment.

The gates of St Mary's Church, Welshpool. 

Last week as I was coming into the village of Raby on the Wirral peninsula I came across a shooting party.  They were on a refreshment break, and I was offered some pheasant pie as I walked past.  This mob were all dressed in subdued kahki, a bit of tweed, rubber boots and dogs everywhere.  They later passed me heading out for the shoot.  I chatted with a lady who used to live in Coffs Harbour who told me that this is a regular shoot and that they "put down" the birds they are shooting - ducks, grouse, and pheasant.  I presume that meant they grow them.

This was a very different group to yesterday's shoot.  While I was having breakfast there were a mob doing the same.  At first I thought they were morris dancers or such like - the dress was tweed trousers and jackets, and long socks, some quite colourful, complete with garters.  It transpired that they were a shooting party, but one that is quite "snobby" about being dressed correctly and so on.  I thought I was in a scene from a movie.  I heard the guns going all day yesterday.

I stayed here in an absolutely huge room - the first three windows on the first floor.  There is a picture inside of the queen leaving the hotel, and another of the hunt gathered outside.

The gates of Powis Castle, Welshpool.

The gardens in front of Powis Castle.

After leaving Powis Castle I walked along the Montgomery canal, and looking through the hedgerows there was more evidence of flooding (above and below).

As I walked yesterday I made very slow progress.  This was because I kept bumping into people and having a delightful chat with many of them.  It began as I left my hotel where I met George, the father of one of Julia Gillards speechwriters!  

It continued when I met Patrick as I left Powis Castle, and then a father and son out for a cycle along the canal.  As I walked along the canal I stopped and chatted with four other groups, with all of them making reference to me looking like mother Christmas, because of my bright red pack cover I assume.  One man wanted to know where my reindeer were!  Later, a lady even stopped her car and got out and chatted.  By this stage it was pitch dark, and I still had a mile to go.  All this blathering took an extra couple of hours.  Very different to today, where I only saw one man to chat to, and therefore arrived an hour before dark.

The Montgomery canal goes through some lovely country.

 The Dragon hotel at Montgomery, where I stayed.

 The white marker in the bottom right corner is a marker for Offa's Dyke path, which goes straight through the archway between these two residences, as I did.

 The Shropshire hills, waterlogged fields, and sheep!

The village of Bishops Castle is very different.  Many of the buildings are painted in different colours, reminding me of an Italian village.

I am staying in the Castle Hotel in Bishops Castle.   There is no longer a castle here, with just one bit of a wall left.  It is thought that the hotel is built from stone from the castle.