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Travel StoriesShrewsbury 2014
A Look Around Shrewsbury
By Ren Withnell
We had to turn the heater down in the night. With the duvet it was too much so this morning the room is comfortably cool. I crank the heater up a little as I know the gf will be cold no matter what. I wander outside and it is bitterly cold and the bikes are covered in a thick layer of frost. I'm so glad that room is warm, I imagine what the tent would have looked like. That said the sun is already getting above the yard arm and where it touches the motorcycles and cars it melts away the frost. It's a thick frost but not a hard one. It looks like today could be a good day.
Brrrrrr! Perhaps not taking the tent was a good idea...
On reception another helpful young lady furnishes me with more brew gear and tells me more about the buses. I'm struggling to work out her accent, there's a hint of West Country, the guttural North and maybe some Welsh too. I wake the gf with a brew and persuade her out of bed simply by being cruel.
We could take the bus into town, but the signs all suggest it's only 2 miles away. Although it is still cool it's not raining and the sun keeps making an effort between the clouds. I feel like a walk and the gf never objects to pedestrian transport. It's fair to say that Shrewsbury is very much like any other town on the outskirts. There's the retail park with all the usual names. Here's the housing estate. There's the new housing estate. This is a dual carriageway with footbridges and underpasses. A garage and some lock ups. Yeah, we could be anywhere really.
It's just another place, it's not all picture postcard scenery.
Those 2 miles are a lie though. After what feels like 3 we still don't appear to be near the centre and we are hungry. An Asda suggests rest and sustenance but I suspect this one's too small to have a cafe. The gf disagrees and drags me over to it. She is wrong which provides me with a great opportunity to remind her that she's cruel to me, teasing me with the prospect of food and a rest for my weary feet. She is cruel dear reader, she's the picture of innocence but she is very cruel. Luckily town is only a few hundred yards further on.
The river is dangerously close to bursting it's banks during this soggy January.
So far the town looks nice enough. but priorities are important and finding somewhere to eat is first on our agenda. We look down a few streets and press our faces up against windows, we decide to go back to the first cafe we spotted as we walked up a hill. Hot tea from those special kind of pots specifically designed NOT to pour correctly is most welcome. Add to that a bacon barm and a rest for my feet and the world is starting to seem a lot more civilised.
We take a look around town. I can honestly say I am mildly impressed, this is in fact high praise indeed from me. Towns have little appeal and if I need to visit one then Bolton has everything any other town has. And yet this town has enough difference, enough character and individuality to keep my interest and attention.
I reckon it's been around a while this place.
There's a lot of ancient timber framed buildings. Far more than I found in York which is renown for them. They're everywhere, mixed, muddled and attached to the modern. Some appear to have ancient glass, beams with splits and cracks, some are bent, some are buckled and not one of them stands truly straight. We ponder why they don't fall down and where the modern obsession with straight lines and clean angles comes from. One pub bends and bows so far out into the street it looks like a giant beer belly.
I think this pub is need of a diet or a girdle.
There's churches a-plenty. One looks old, dark and scary in the medieval fashion, cold and damp inside. St Chads proves quite the opposite. Inside the entrance foyer the echo is endless, I make a loud clap and delight as the shock wave fades, the gf tells me off for being noisy. Inside the main church is in the round, brightly illuminated from the windows and feels enlightening, welcoming and fresh. It feels inclusive if that makes sense, being in the round I imagine a service feels more like a gathering. It's also refreshingly modern because it is used for concerts and festivals according to the brochures.
St Chads. If only all churches could be so light and inviting.
There's a healthy number of small shops. In many towns the butcher, baker and hardware store have all closed because people use the retail parks. Here we find all these and other rarities like a wool shop, independent coffee shop, a tailors and a proper haberdashery. The gf delights in the large room filled with cloths and materials of all kinds. I briefly consider asking if they sell cordura to make my own bike jacket. Stupid idea. We can't work out why these shops can survive in Shrewsbury and not elsewhere. Maybe it's a little bit posher here.
It's the little shops that make a little difference making it a little special.
The town also contains the obligatory shopping centre with polished floors, big glass shop fronts, escalators and shiny elevators. All the usual chains are here too that make all towns look and feel the same. The "Golden Arches" look, smell and taste the same anywhere you go and it's that very sameness that spoils the individuality of any modern town. It's a fact of life and there's no point complaining. To sum up Shrewsbury's town centre is like any other town centre yet there's just enough character, history and uniqueness left in it to make it a little special.
My feet are weary, I'm never going to be a long distance walker. It only takes a moment to find a bus stop with a green rectangle declaring "Meole Brace". "Meole Brace", how do I pronounce that I ask the gf. "Moool, Me-olay, Moolaah?". She has no idea either. I deliberately listen in to a local at the bus stop, it's spoken as "Meal Brace", rhymes with wheel brace. Aha, I don't look quite so stupid on the bus as I ask for a ticket to "Meal Brace". £1.60, that's not bad. The bus drops us at the retail park some 10 easy minutes walk from the Travelodge.
We're pooped. We still haven't seen all that Shrewsbury has to offer, we've missed a castle, museum and I'm sure a lot more. I agree with the gf, I'd be happy to return. It's not too late yet so we both jump on my 125 to nip a few miles down the road to visit Salop Leisure. It's a large place filled with caravans, campervans and static caravans. Both the gf and I love to nosey around. She pretends we can afford them and excitedly tells me how delightful our lives will be as we travel the world in luxury. I'm far more pragmatic, I look at all the gadgets and the clever design of the showers.
I sit in a static and surf the net on my mobile, resting my weary feet as the gf carries on like a six year old in a toy shop. I could live in one of these. There's more than enough room, it's far better appointed than my scruffy little terrace and this one has got 2 toilets! All I'd need is somewhere to put it. Damn. Eventually the gf returns, apparently there's a whole field full of static caravans over there somewhere. I'm not going to find out. Instead we dream of motorhomes then have a cup of tea in the cafe.
The evening is wasted in the best possible way. We bathe and preen ourselves in the warmth of the room. I nip out to the petrol station in search of food only to find a pastie, some sausage rolls and a bag a Doritos. It's hardly a healthy diet and the pastie is non too clever either. It'll do for the evening though. We watch nonsense on TV and get undressed to make the most of the warm room. There's far worse ways to spend an evening I can assure you. We're tucked up in bed by 2130. I think we're a bit too old for this rock-n-roll lifestyle.
Why And The Ride To Shrewsbury
Ren explains why he's taking Sharon to Shrewsbury. Well, he tries but he doesn't really know to be honest.
A Look Around Shrewsbury
Sharon and Ren take a look around the town of Shrewsbury. Ren achieves the dizzy heights of being "mildly impressed"
Going Home From Shrewsbury
The return leg from Shrewsbury involved rain, silly truck drivers and something left behind.
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Travel StoriesShrewsbury 2014