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Published: December 9th 2018
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With our successful book launch now a mere memory, I thought it might be time to take my small companion to a destination that Zoe and I had enjoyed many years ago.
Woolly says – You mean there’s places you haven’t taken me to!!! With the women refusing to reveal any details I sat watching the countryside pass us by as we sped along the windy roads. The sun was poking it’s head out and I kept my paws crossed that the weather would play nicely for the day. Pulling onto the already crowded car park it looked as though we might have a few people to dodge round, as Jo sorted out the payment Zoe and I headed towards an information board that told me more about the site. Blists Hill Victorian Town is a small industrial town set in 1900, Queen Victoria is on the throne and the national average way is £42 (GBP) a year, which is seriously not a lot of money. Although a town never actually existed on the land it had once been the centre for furnaces, foundries, mines and factories which having fallen into disuse in the 1950’s was taken over by the Ironbridge trust who developed the town carefully, moving original Victorian buildings onto the site over the years until the museum was completed.
Having climbed up several flights of stairs our eyes were met with a bustling town and our ears with the sound of a brass band playing Christmas songs.
Woolly says – It was like stepping back in time, with Jo leading the way I tried to take in the costumes that many people were wearing and the wonderful buildings. Our first stop was the bank and having handed over some money I was delighted to be given a pile of pennies, sixpences and farthings to spend, have carefully stored my funds away we wandered along the street, the chemists displays of pills and potions were wonderful although I did wonder what you might take bile beans for! Next door was a bicycle shop selling a huge range of cycles which looked incredibly uncomfortable and certainly to cumbersome for my use. I waved happily at a passing horse who was pulling a carriage behind him before stopping to admire the cobblers work in his small shop, a strange smell met my trunk and I hurried closer to its source where the girls had already joined a queue, well were British so we like queuing! The smell of beef dripping grew stronger as we waited which puzzled me as neither Jo nor Zoe eats meat, having pointed this out Jo pointed to a leaflet in her hand
Th traditional fish and chip shop fried everything in the meat juices but the leaflet we had been handed told us that they also did ‘veggie’ friendly chips.
Woolly says – As the line didn’t seem to be moving, I took the opportunity to wander into the nearby drapers shop to admire their deerstalkers and lace work which was incredible in its intricacy and delicate work. As the line of people had still not progressed anywhere, I ambled into the photographer’s shop and stood watching him stand under a black cloak whilst taking a picture with a huge camera which would defiantly be tricky to get into a bag. Opposite was a small corner sweet shop with shelves heaving with sticky treats, I carefully counted out my old money and handed it over in exchange for a bag of sherbet lemons popping one into my mouth before deciding it might be time to find the women.
Having finally made it to the chippy’s counter we had been told that, no, they didn’t do ‘veggie’ chips, forty five minutes wasted and no sustenance left us feeling slightly annoyed.
Woolly says – They didn’t look happy when I re-joined them and having suggested that we find somewhere else the three of us gazed at the map which showed a knife and fork at the pub, well that would suit nicely, I led the way into the old Banks’s building (Banks’s beer is very well known throughout the midlands and although the brewery is now owned by Marston’s the traditional bitter and mild is still brewed and sold in many of the pubs across a large area). With sawdust covering the floor and a smell of smoke in the air from the open fire we stood waiting patiently to be served, as Jo asked about food the publican shook his head and told us that they didn’t do food, Jo and Zoe didn’t look impressed with this turn of events and I could feel a complaint in the offing. With only one other eatery on the site we quickly headed towards it.
Finally, we were able to sit down with a hot drink and something to eat as we consulted the map of the town.
Woolly says – having already passed quite a number of buildings it seemed sensible to view the places at the lower end of the museum and then work our way back, which meant that our next stop was the Squatters Cottage. A lovely low building with an outside toilet, always a good photo opportunity. Inside was smoky and very crowded as visitors tried to peek at the living conditions, it was quite dark with only candles providing the light. A huge scullery opened off the main living area and a large bedroom where the whole family would have slept were lovely if a trifle cold, I managed to dodge all the feet and made my way back outside where the rain had started. Pulling my hood up and refusing to be deterred I led the way towards the toll house that had once sat on Watling Street (now the A1) taking money from every type of transport that passed by. Inside was bright and warming with a large range and two good sized bedrooms, this family had obviously had some money as the children had a huge number of toys to play with. A muddy path led us to the Mission Church whose red corrugated walls and roof looked much in need of a coat of paint, it was stark and the wooden pews didn’t make you want to linger.
Next stop was the clay mine and as we climbed onto a small train the very enthusiastic guide told us about the life of the miners and the dangers they would have faced on a daily basis.
Woolly says – As the train went into the mine, I could feel the chill on my tusks, visibility was nearly zero with only a small candle to light the way, I’m so glad I’ve never had to work in conditions like that and was most grateful as we arrived back into the drizzle. A short distance away were the blast furnaces that had been one of the only original buildings at the museum, the wonderful towers and arches made a great picture even though we weren’t able to go inside. The baker’s shop was heaving as we passed by and headed into the candle workshop which gave us an opportunity to make our own rainbow candles, even with Jo keeping an eagle eye on me I knew that falling into a vat of boiling wax wouldn’t be a good idea and kept strictly to the sides in fear of changing my fur into a blue waxy mess. Behind the ironworks was a small stable housing some reindeer who must have been waiting for Father Christmas to collect them as they were covered in small bells and looked ready to fly through the skies on Christmas eve, they were to busy chomping on their hay to pay me any attention. A large modern barn looked interesting and having finally managed to get through the
door along with millions of other people we found a massive boat called Spry who is the last remaining trow boat of the river severn. Once upon a time she would have navigated her way along the Severn taking coal, iron and clay to other parts of the country, crewed by only three people which must have taken a lot of work on their behalf.
As we arrived back in the main centre of the town carol singers were dressed in traditional clothes and snow was filling the air around us, the smell of roasting chestnuts and smoke from the chimneys filled our noses as we stood happily feeling like Christmas had really arrived.
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