Back from Shropshire (13th October 2012)



Back from Shropshire.

It was Emuna's birthday yesterday so we went away for a couple of nights. She wanted to visit Stokesay Castle near Craven Arms in Shropshire, so I booked a couple of nights at the Castle View B&B nearby http://www.castleviewstokesay.co.uk/ This is run by a wonderful lady called Joyce Cook who made us feel very welcome. Emuna has been quite poorly lately so we had to pace ourselves, breaking up the day with lots of rests. The train down there was full of Scottish football fans heading for Cardiff for a match against Wales. We got seats,and they were well behaved, but the noise and general combination of alcohol and testosterone were a bit wearing. The late running of the train meant that we had to walk to Stokesay, only a mile, as we'd missed the bus. First we had fish and chips in Craven Arms, which was a rip off. I kept kidding Emuna that we were going to a campsite as we walked through the dark and rainy night.

The room was really comfortable. I got up early and explored a nearby wooded hill, Nortoncamp woods. http://www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=8026 I didn't know about the old hillfort and didn't get right up to it, but the woods were magnificent, though a little spoiled by the great gouges ripped through them for access by modern tree felling machinery.

After a really good breakfast we headed for Stokesay Castle. http://www.castlewales.com/stokesay.html Emuna had often seen this from the train as she travelled to and from Cardiff. She wanted a closer look, and it was no disappointment. More of a fortified manor than a castle, it has a bit of a mediaeval fantasy look about it and is surprisingly well preserved. We spent ages exploring the whole place, culminating in collecting windfalls from an apple tree in the moat. After also examining the simple stone church we returned to base for Emuna to have a rest. I walked to Craven Arms then made my way back by the more picturesque route along the river bank, inevitably getting my boots muddy.

Leaving my boots at the door I went up to our room. On the way I saw Joyce, who told me where to stop the 'bus for Ludlow. After a cup of tea we walked out to the unmarked bus stop and stood bravely on the verge as roaring artics battered us with their slipstreams. The bus runs but once an hour at best and carries hardly any passengers. At £2.50 each the return fare was reasonable, working out at about 25P a mile, but I often wonder if this is the best way to run rural public transport. Surely if they ran a minibus every 15 or 20 minutes then many more people would use it. The present arrangement engenders much timetable anxiety.

The 'bus dropped us by the market place near the castle after slowly picking its way through narrow streets made for horse drawn traffic. The town is a labyrinth of narrow streets and old buildings, rather spoiled by the amount of motor traffic that forces its way through.

We were now hungry, so we explored the market stalls looking for fast food. Rejecting the inevitable burger stalls, we found upmarket food in the form of an organic Gloucester Old Spot pork pie for me and a salmon sandwich for Emuna. The stallholder had a good line in insulting patter. The Gloucester Old Spot is a rare breed of pig, now even rarer as I've eaten one of them!

The citizens of Ludlow are noticeably stylish and upmarket compared to other towns. It is a place that speaks of wealth.

Lunch consumed, we headed for the castle. I was drawn to a motorbike and sidecar attached to a trailer parked nearby, then repulsed from it when I noticed that the trailer was decorated with small golden swastikas. Wanting to be charitable, I wondered if the owner was a Buddhist.

We passed a gaggle of young men and overheard part of a conversation- "If she messes about you want to slap her" remarked one youth. "I can't do that, I'm not Irish" replied the other. "Domestic violence and racism in one conversation" remarked Emuna, continuing to lament the lack of progress in attitudes among young males.

Ludlow castle was interesting, a proper big semi-ruined military castle with amazing views from the battlements and towers, but not as friendly as Stokesay. It looks impressive from the river banks below though. 

Emuna wanted to explore some of the shops that she had seen, so we headed into town. It certainly has a thriving centre, full of small shops, unlike the sadly dying town centres that I am so familiar with in post industrial Lancashire. She needed a prescription, so we found a chemist, then decided to go for a coffee. I had noticed that the ancient and highly decorative Feathers Hotel

The Feathers Hotel may refer to:

,_Ludlow boasted a cafe bar, so I suggested we went in there.

We went in by the front door and I was surprised and a little daunted to find that we were in the reception area of a Brief Encounter era hotel. It had clearly escaped modernisation and, if I had the money, I'd love to stay there. we were directed into the bar, which is a little more modern. Emuna ordered coffee and I a pint of really flavoursome locally brewed real ale.

The only other customers were two businessmen, one in his 40s and the other twenty years his senior, sitting on sofas near the window. I instantly developed a distrust for them both and, earwigging their conversation, came to the conclusion that they were probably trying to con each other. About halfway through my pint they concluded their negotiation and the older one left. The younger one, smoothly dressed with a smart suit and neat moustache, went to the bar and flirted confidently with the barmaid as he paid for their drinks. When he left Emuna asked "Did you notice the psychopath"? I had indeed had him down as probably a charming psychopath.

The Psychopathy Checklist or Hare Psychopathy Checklist-Revised, now the Psychopathy Checklist—revised (PCL-R), is a psychological assessment tool used to assess the presence of psychopathy in individuals.[1] It is a 20-item inventory of perceived personality traits and recorded behaviors, intended to be completed on the basis of a semi-structured interview along with a review of 'collateral information' such as official records.

The PCL was originally developed in the 1970s by Canadian psychologist Robert D. Hare for use in psychology experiments, based partly on Hare's work with male offenders and forensic inmates in Vancouver, and partly on an influential clinical profile by American psychiatrist Hervey M. Cleckley first published in 1941.

An individual's score may have important consequences for his or her future, and because the potential for harm if the test is used or administered incorrectly is considerable, Hare argues that the test should be considered valid only if administered by a suitably qualified and experienced clinician under scientifically controlled and licensed, standardized conditions.[2][3] Hare receives royalties on licensed use of the test.[4]

"He seems to tick some of the boxes" she said "and he has high cheekbones and his ring finger is longer than his middle finger, which some people claim to be associated with psychopathy". "Did you notice the superficial charm"?

We left the bar and agreed to split up to do some shopping. I headed straight for the Oxfam bookshop for a browse. My eye landed on a book called "The Age of Absurdity, why modern life makes it hard to be happy". At £2.49 I picked it up. I also stocked up on old Ordnance Survey maps. I was really looking for a book on the Bishops Castle Railway, a fascinating and impecunious line that once ran from Craven Arms, so I visited a couple more bookshops, without success. In one I was told that there was a Bishops Castle Railway Society and I should contact them. http://www.bcrailway.co.uk/society.htm

Bus time was approaching, so I rang Emuna. She was lost, so I gave her directions back to the bus stop. On the bus I got out my new book. Emuna said she'd just seen it on a website and thought she ought to get a copy. I started reading and found it to be a fascinating, well researched and insightful analysis of why, in such a cornucopia of wealth, so many people are so bloody miserable.

After another rest back at the B&B we walked into Craven Arms for a meal at the Stokesay Inn. Another building that has hardly changed since the 1950s it was wonderfully nostalgic, but, though the waitress was an enthusiastic and likeable chatty teenage girl, the food was poor quality, meagre and overpriced.

This morning the plan was to walk into Craven Arms and have a look st the Land Of Lost Content before catching a train. http://www.virtual-shropshire.co.uk/visitor_guide/land_of_lost_content_guide.shtml We got diverted into a table top sale run by the old ladies of the methodist church (whatever will become of methodism when they all pass on, for there seem to be virtually no new recruits). We went in, bought a few items then sat down to tea and cake. Emuna was feling ill and just wanted to go home, so we headed for the station.

The train ( just 2 coaches, how ridiculous) was standing room only as it was packed with rather sombre Scots. They lost 2-1. We didn't get seats until Crewe.

It was a really enjoyable little holiday. We would have loved to stay longer. Now it's back to work on "Hazel" and getting ready for the "Hazel" sponsors day next Sunday. http://wcbs.org.uk/