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Published: October 9th 2017
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Woolly says – having poked my trunk out of the door and examined the weather, I considered my attire and quickly added another two layers with the hope that the dark clouds wouldn’t turn to rain in the near future, which just left me the bitterly cold wind to deal with. Having purveyed the map I had struck upon the idea of visiting a town that Jo had spent her life driving past but had never actually stopped at, that was about to be rectified. It’s strange sometimes that you can pass a town thousands of times but never even drive through it, I hoped that my previous remiss behaviour would be rewarded. Woolly says – the twenty minute drive didn’t go well once I had realised that a certain person had neglected to put my snack bag into the car and that I would have to endure starvation, I really need to sort out a new carer! I so wish he would! Woolly says - Whitchurch is a market town in northern Shropshire, England which was originally a settlement founded by the Romans around AD 52 which sounded positive on the Roman front. The name of Whitchurch came from the Middle English for "White Church", taken from a church that was constructed from white stone during the Norman period, the church was no more and the name had altered over time but my paws were crossed that it would offer a day of delights. Having parked up I led the way through a small alley and onto the main street which was delightful with its black and white Tudor style buildings, even better the most beautiful of them all was also a cake shop, having not been fed for over half an hour I decided that this must be our first stop before my body gave out due to an advanced level of hunger.
The shop was indeed a beauty and having provided the moaning mammoth with a doughnut and waited patiently while he licked the sugar off before sucking the jam out of the middle before finally chomping his way through the dough, I set about cleaning him up so that we could move on. Woolly says – It seemed sensible to have a wander round first and having found that my paws kept sticking to the pavement, one of the downsides of doughnut eating, I gave Jo my best and cutest look in the hope that her warm jacket would provide my transport for me.
It appeared that he was struggling and that constipation might be causing him some issues, so having wiped him over once more and kept my fingers crossed that I hadn’t missed any jam I picked him up as we headed for the beautiful church that dominated the skyline. Woolly says - St Alkmund's Church was started on 27th March 1712 and completed by October of the same year, given the amount of detail that was very fast work. The circular porch looked most inviting and not needing any encouragement I bounced up the steps to take a look at the inside, having reached the top of the stone steps I was stopped in mid stride by a very formally dressed man in a top hat. He stared down at me and having accepted my compliment on his headwear he quietly informed me that a funeral was about to take place and the church wasn’t open to humans or mammoths. Unable to see a way round that I thanked him for his time and set off back the way we had just come, more timber framed buildings greeted my eyes sadly however many of them where not in use and had closed signs hanging from many of the doors. I sighed and suggested we head towards the Heritage centre and the chance of seeing some Roman finds.
The wind was freezing and I just wanted an indoor activity so I could warm up! Woolly says – having walked round the large building and finally located the door I waited for Jo to open it, which appeared to be a problem as the handle remained in one place and the door refused to budge. I looked up at my human who smiled sadly down at me, it seemed that the Heritage of Whitchurch would remain a secret to anyone visiting on a Monday which was very bad planning on their behalf. With nothing else open or to look at we left Whitchurch behind us and headed back towards Wrexham. His mournful sighs filled the car and wanting to give him at least something to look at I suggested we take the opportunity to follow one of the brown tourist signs that we have passed many times already and see what was there.
Woolly says – Not a bad idea even if I say so myself and with the heater at full blast I settled back and told Jo about the site. The 18th century King's Mill was built as a replacement for the original, which is thought to have dated back to the 14th century. It was here where the inhabitants of Wrexham Regis were required to mill their grain. A settlement grew up around the mill, known as Pentre Felin Newydd, or Pentre for short, which came to be known as Kings Mills in the 19th century. Over time the area lost its importance, some of the cottages were demolished in the early 20th century and the mill was closed in 1940. By the 1970s the mill was threatened with demolition and was taken over by the National Trust. The mill was renovated and opened as a visitor centre in 1991. Pulling up outside I was a little concerned to see that the windows and doors were covered in metal but undeterred I headed round to towards the back of the building to see if the entrance was located there…. It wasn’t.
His small face crumpled in disappointment and he sniffed unhappily as the growing awareness of another failure entered his mind. Woolly says – It was abandoned and it didn’t look as though it would be opening any time soon, a few photo’s later and we sat in the car looking at each other waiting for some inspiration. We could head back and watch a film Jo suggested but I was itching to see something, anything would do I hummed and harred for a few minutes before inspiration dawned and I suggested a new game. His idea wasn’t all bad and would hopefully at least give us something to view, follow the next tourist sign and see where we end up became the plan. Woolly says – it was decided and having motored back towards Wrexham itself I spied a sign for ‘Clywedog’, what could go wrong I asked myself. The answer arrived three miles later as we pulled up at the Clued in Dog to find a Heritage centre, I beamed happily at my carer and started to climb out of the car, Jo called me back…..
How to tell him! Woolly says – ……. ‘What do you mean it’s closed!!!!!????!!!!!’ ‘what is it with this country????!!!!’ The wailing and stamping of paws continued for a few minutes before he paused for breath and I hurriedly suggested that we investigate the Bersham Ironworks made famous by John ‘Iron Mad’ Wilkinson, a leading figure in the Industrial Revolution and inventor of the razor blade, his ears perked up and as we navigated the windy roads I kept everything crossed that we might hit gold for this one, well Iron at least. Woolly says – as we halted at the side of the road and looked around it appeared that the day was completely blown, it’s a conspiracy against me and my kind! The empty building stood there almost mocking my distress, I gave up and glared at Jo to see how she was going to get out of this mess and how she was going to entertain me for the rest of the day.
Enough was enough and tired from driving from one closed venue to another having not fully warmed up since getting out of bed I went for broke and played the only card I had left. Woolly says – Hmmmm all four Ice Age films, popcorn and ice cream…… I might be convinced!
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JenGog
Jennifer Jones
the round building
I think its a brick kiln if my memory serves me right. They used to make bricks on teh back road behind the mill . Jen