Be Lambic or Green

This week has been slightly tedious. I didn’t do anything exciting at the weekend, as the weather wasn’t great, and I was feeling particularly lazy. I’ve started sorting my kitchen out, and the kitchen fitters arrive next Monday to start work. I expect this coming weekend will be spent clearing out all my cupboards and drawers ready for that.

This time next week I’ll be on my way to Canada!

My Mum and Graham visited at the weekend. Graham kindly fixed my kitchen floorboards and converted my outside toilet and larder into a utility area. We went to the Old Lion Tap for a very pleasant meal, after I had phoned around almost every restaurant in town to find a table. My advice is book early when it is St Valentine’s weekend.

On Sunday, we went for a wander around town, taking in the nicer shops, and a quick stroll along the river. We headed up to Lyth Hill briefly, but my Mum is afraid of the cold, so we went back and she cooked a rather good roast dinner.

I had to go to Cardiff on Tuesday and Wednesday for some pointless millennium testing, but at least we got to stay in a nice hotel and go out for an excellent portugese meal.

It’s now only two weeks to my trip to Canada, and I can’t wait!

After tidying my house from top to bottom, and shopping for munchies and drinks, I was ready for the arrival of my Dad, Clare, Philippa, Tristan, Alan, Sally, Joshua, Rachel, and Barney (the dog). They got stuck in a jam on the M6, so didn’t arrive until after eight on Friday evening. Alan got some chips for the kids while I made everyone tea. Once everyone was settled, us blokes (and Philippa) went to the pub, drank lots of beer, and got a take away curry on the way home.

The next day, everyone was up by nine, something which I’m still shocked by. We had tea and toast, and Dad took Barney out over the fields looking for rabbit holes. At around ten, everyone left for Scotland, leaving me to get ready for work. I worked until nine to get the latest release of our software delivered.

Sunday started as a glorious day, with blue skies and bright sunshine. I decided to go for another of my ‘Pub Walks in Shropshire’. I rifled through the book, and decided on Ironbridge Gorge, starting at the Tontine Hotel.

Half an hour later I was out on the A5, with the roof down, heading towards Ironbridge. What I hadn’t noticed until then was how ridiculously cold it was. The sun was shining, but the wind was icy cold, and I had to put on my silly red hat.

After arriving at Ironbridge, negotiating the roadworks and the hordes (well, maybe not hordes, but a lot for February) of visitors, and parking the car, I headed for the Tontine Hotel. The hotel stands directly in front of the Iron Bridge. It looks victorian, and has a foyer tiled by Maw & Co of nearby Jackfield and cast-iron fireplaces. I had a surprisingly good pint of Bank’s bitter, read a chapter of The Lost Continent, then headed back out.

I walked across the Iron Bridge, which crosses the gorge high above the river, giving impressive views. At the other end of the bridge I headed right, down a broad track to a disused railway bridge. Going under the bridge, and up onto it, bought me out onto what used to be the railway track, built in 1863, which ran from Coalport to Stafford.

Walking along the track, I got my first glimpse of Buildwas Power Station, which is quite impressive really, as the cooling towers are quite huge. Apparently the station won an architectural award in 1973 for its concordance with the environment. As I approached it, the sky became dominated by the huge rosy coloured brick cooling towers, and I could hear the condensed water rushing down them. The track ended at a fence, just yards from the first tower, 375 feet high, an imposing sight. The bottom of the towers is open, supported by large diagonal pillars, so you can see the gallons of water flowing down inside. I decided I liked these towers, they are incredibly impressive, and have a strange kind of beauty. They are also quite well hidden, so you don’t have to look at them if you don’t want to.

Striking off into the woods, I came to some steps. My guide told me I had to climb these steps, so I strode up them. I strode up them much too quickly. About twenty steps later I was gasping for air, and admiring the towers behind me again while my heart slowed down. I continued upwards, clutching the conveniently placed guide rails and panting heavily. I stopped again, and again, and several times more, each time resting for longer, until finally I arrived at the top. I stood bent, with my hands on my knees, struggling for breath, and vowing to get just a little bit fitter.

I checked my book, and discovered much to my dismay that there were more steps to climb, but it was only a few this time, and I was soon strolling happily through the woods on flat ground. Soon the path turned into a farm track, and I passed some old looking, and remarkably well preserved barns and outhouses.

Eventually I arrived at Benthall church. Apparently the Benthalls were influential figures in these parts, with a hall, a church, and the local village named after them. I wandered around the church yard, looking at the tombs and gravestones. Some of them were made from cast iron, the obsession with iron in Ironbridge affected all parts of life, and death.

As I was wandering, a very old lady with an attractive beard and moustache came out of the church, with a greyhound which was almost as hairy as she was. She greeted me and asked if I’d been there before. I made the mistake of saying no. She desperately wanted me to see inside the church, so eventually I obliged and went in. I would like to thank that old lady now, because it was a very pleasant experience. The church was small and well kept, and incredibly peaceful. My new friend started telling me about the history of the church, apparently using farts as punctuation, and told me lots of interesting things about the Benthalls that I’ve since forgotten. I really should take a notebook on these walks.

From the churchyard, I could see Benthall Hall, built in the 16th century, which played an important part in the Civil War. Cromwell’s men took it in the same month that Shrewsbury fell. In the 19th century, George Maw, of ceramic tile fame, lived there, and planted almost every variety of crocus in the gardens. I couldn’t see any now though.

I left the church, and continued along the track, which eventually led back into Ironbridge, and my waiting car.

Jen went away to a trade show in Toronto on Friday, and didn’t get back until yesterday, which meant my online time was reduced considerably, and I had to find something else to occupy myself with.

On Saturday, I decided that my car really needed cleaning quite badly, so took it to a valeting firm in Shrewsbury. I arrived at about 11, and they told me it would be ready by 3, so I headed off into town to find something to do.

First, I went to the library. Shrewsbury library is housed in a very impressive building, which I’m sure has some interesting history if I could be bothered to research it. The gardens in front are well kept, with the imposing statue of Charles Darwin, famous son of Shrewsbury, and one of the greatest thinkers of our time, sitting with his legs crossed and a pile of books at his feet.

Unfortunately, the interior of the library was a bit of a disappointment at first. The reception area is the usual library brown and beige, with stained beige upholstered chairs. Scattered around were tatty Agatha Christie hardbacks. However, walking up the stairs to the main borrowing library, it became a whole lot nicer. I still had to suffer the beige carpets, but the massive arched windows, and curved ceilings make the rooms feel huge, and very airy. It is the kind of place you could sit in all day and read quite happily. The books were still all very tatty though (I think everybody should donate their old books to public libraries, and try to keep this most important public institution alive).

After trapsing around the shops for a while, I decided to head down to the park. The park is maintained by the Shropshire Horticultural Society, and is very impressive. It runs down to the river from town, and encompasses a secluded pond area. Unfortunately this area of tranquility and pleasantness is ruined by a large beige lego brick in one corner. This building is Shrewsbury swimming centre, and is quite horrible, but if you turn your back on it, you can still enjoy the views.

I headed back into town, wandered around for a bit, and walked past the Rowley House Museum. I’m not usually keen on local museums, but an impulse grabbed me, and I went in. I paid my three pounds and headed off to explore. The museum is filled with artefacts from ancient times, moving through the ages from stone age, through bronze age, iron age, roman times, and medieval times. It is very clean and tidy, and the exhibits are well maintained, but I can only gaze into display cabinets for so long before I get bored. The ‘Natural History’ section was the worst area though, stuffed animals in display cases is not my idea of natural history.

Eventually, I headed back to get my car, which was gleaming, and looking as good as new. Unfortunately, I discovered to my dismay that the valeting people didn’t take credit cards, so I had to dash back into town to get some cash.

I got home to discover that Jen had commandeered her aunts computer, and was online, so I spent most of the rest of the day online.

The rest of this week has been spent tidying my house ready for my Dad and family and friends to arrive at the weekend.