Day 6 - Wheathill to Cardington
So began my dad’s morning!
The cabin I awoke in was situated in the garden of the old school house in Loughton, a mile from Wheathill and the views over the fields were lovely to wake up to. Thankfully there was no cat mess to clear up but the owner Jan's two dogs came to say hello in the morning, and she brought through a tasty breakfast including their own homemade jams that they sell from the door.
I took a shortcut through a byway that consisted of a short dirt track, then found the lovely quiet little road that my dad had walked along. It had great views, not that the sheep grazing all along it took much notice. I thought I’d taken a photo of Burwarton Hall but when I looked it up later I realised it was a completely different house!
Arriving in Ditton Priors, smarmy Tim was nowhere to be seen, but the pub, The Norbury Arms, was still there, and looked welcoming. The map also showed a cafe just outside the village though, so I thought I’d walk there to see what they offered, as I’ll be eating in pubs for much of this trip and fancied a change. I’m glad I did, otherwise I wouldn’t have chanced upon the scene that unfolded in front of me - by sheer chance I’d arrived in the sleepy village of Ditton Priors on the one day of the year that the community-run Oak Farm, who support adults with learning disabilities, was hosting OakFest, their annual fare, and there were over a thousand people there and all sorts of madness going on. There was morris dancing, live bands playing, food, drink and craft stalls, an air ambulance helicopter on display, llamas to pet and even a dog show. I was handed a programme and realised that I’d arrived just in time to see the “Prettiest Bitch” award (Some of the other categories included “Prettiest Eyes”, “Shinest Coat” and “Waggiest Tail”) - funny that unlikely competitions should feature in both my dad’s and my day walking this same route (you’ll find out what I mean shortly).
I went to see “Prettiest Bitch” - It was funny how seriously the two judges took their role, going round each dog, taking notes and deliberating with each other. There was one enormously fat and ugly pug whose proud owner obviously adored her, quite sweet really, though unsurprisingly she didn't make it to the final three having been usurped by a dalmation, a black terrier, and prettiest bitch of all, a spaniel.
I spent another hour or so at the festival, ate some nachos, perused the stalls and chatted to a few people. Then it was time to set off again.
Outside the village I had my first proper view of Brown Clee Hill, the highest in South Shropshire despite having walked around the edge of it all morning. (first pic below) The Corve valley was indeed beautiful, the sun was shining and it was a very peaceful walk.
Continuing in my dad's footsteps…
And now for one of favourite passages from dad’s journal:
Now you see the connection! I have made enquiries and shall hopefully be able to track down a picture of Miss Dairymaid! Watch this space…
Longville in the Dale is a sweet little village with an equally sweet name but sadly the pub had closed down and stands derelict - a sorry sight and sad reminder of the fate of many country pubs, so important for small rural communities.
My dad’s day ends there but mine didn't as although Wildehope Manor is still a YHA hostel, it it's currently only taking group bookings, so I found myself a room in a B&B in a farmhouse in Cardington, 3 miles further up a quiet and pretty little lane.
That evening I had dinner in The Royal Oak, a lovely old 15th century pub, and the oldest pub in Shropshire. I inquired of why it was so quiet on a Saturday night and was told that a girl in the village was having a hen-do and everyone was there! Presumably the menfolk only go to the pub tip merry women there as there were hardly any of them there either. After a hearty meal of cajun spiced tuna steak (how pub food has changed since my dad’s time!), some delicious but heady pints of scrumpy cider, and lots of laughs with a fellow hiker named Francis, I tottered off back down the lane to bed.
