Mondays are days to take the lesser used route. By and large, we spurn the motorways, preferring the slower roads that allow us to soak in the winter-wide views, without becoming part of the permafrost. We took the meandering back road to Worcester. I took another sneaky shot of one of my favourite trees. Same miserable outline, but the sky is bright with hope rather than sullen with despair.
When we reached Worcester the approach to Carrington Bridge was gridlocked. As we went past it looked as if there was a breakdown, which meant nothing could get off the roundabout. We diverted through the city, passing two men carrying a bookcase, and a lady wearing black and white trousers that managed to be loud, wide and ankle flapping, all in one attempt. Just two of the intriguing glimpses of life we see, as we pass by.
Onwards we continued, through the suburbs east of the Severn and onwards, past
We headed for Westhide church, but as we passed by we were intrigued by both the spire and the name of Ocle Pychard church. Alas, it was locked. A sign in the churchyard instructed us not to walk on the grass. Maybe they had planted bulbs, but they didn't tell us why we shouldn't tread on the turf, so it just felt rather unwelcoming. We stamped the dust from our sandals boots, and moved on.
Next stop was the clumsy looking church at Westhide. From the outside the tower looks as big as the church. It has an unusual appearance but when the sun shone, you forgive all the weird proportions, and they just became part of its unique and idiosyncratic charm.
Inside there was information about the refurbishment of the bells. Sadly they have been converted to a chime, hence the shortened rope ends. Interestingly, as the ropes were so far apart, you probably still need one person per bell, even to chime - unless you got them all swinging and ran madly around from one rope to the next...Bellringing is a skill - why not pass it on to the next generation?
A bell wheel had been hung on one of the walls, as a reminder of how things used to be done, in the good old days.
We visited another church, but sadly that was also locked.
Next was decision time. Would we divert to Hereford and find somewhere for a light lunch, or should we travel on to Oakchurch Farm Shop, further along the road to Presteigne? Outside the temperatures close to freezing, so we decided to go on to the farm shop, as we knew it would be warm.
On the way into the farm shop I spotted some tayberries, so I made a mental note to get a couple for DH to plant on his allotment. At £7.99 each they were a lot cheaper than the ones he had been considering. We whizzed past the farm shop/deli, kitchenware, clothing, handbags to the cafe. We secured a table adjacent to the south-facing window, and allowed the sun warmth to soak into our February deep frozen bones. Even my normally sunshine adverse companion was happy to sit in the sun.
I had dressed for warmth, not fashion, but somehow found myself trying on clothes. I found a rather nice jacket, which was reduced to half price in the sale. The jacket is blue and pink, which sounds rather loud, but it doesn't look blue or pink, as by some miracle of design it appears to be purple. Colour works in weird ways.
We retraced our steps to the farm shop, where one can buy authentic muddy veg, just like DH grows on his allotment. Unfortunately, the tayberries I wanted to buy, were the wrong side of the sliding entrance doors. We were so near, but they were completely out of reach. I lurked close to the doors, peering out, trying to ascertain if anyone was about to enter. This would provide the opportunity for one of us to pop out and get the tayberries. However, all I managed to do was activate the alarm, by getting too close to the door whilst holding the jacket I intended to purchase!
When we reached the tills I explained to the lady that I wanted some plants.
"No problem," she said, "I will let you back in."
My companion went to get them, on the understanding the sales assistant would let her back in through the exit door, to save her walking all the way through the shop again. Then I got involved in a discussion with two of the sales assistants on how the skirt didn't really work. It looked fine with the jacket on, but not without, and you can't guarantee keeping the jacket on, in case you suffer from heat exhaustion. Meanwhile, my companion is stood outside the door, with the tayberry plants, gesticulating wildly as it is rather c-c-c-c-cold out there. The assistant had forgotten all about her, so I went and let her in.
The sales assistant rang up my bill.
"Ah well, we saved money by avoiding the expensive cheesecakes in the cafe, and buying sweets instead, so I have been economising!" I rationalised...
We travelled home, crossing a bridge north of Worcester to avoid any further gridlock. Weather watching as we went, as we passed from one flurry into the next, in quick succession. It was all very wonderful.
DH was very appreciative of the tayberries. He probably will be appreciative of the jacket as well, in time...Meanwhile, in anticipation of the 'beast from the east', the plants are tucked up in the shed, until the ground warms up enough for them to be planted. Roll on spring!
Update - the other good news is that all four estate agents signs are now lying flat on the ground, including the one that had been tied to the road name sign.
Now please, Estate Agents, come and take them away - before I plant tayberries next to them. I am sure they would make a great frame!
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