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/
