Not Everything In Life Is Black & White

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Herefordshire. The masses on the M5 plough on regardless. To the perfect stone villages of Cotswolds. To the rugged beauty of Devon and Cornwall. To other places far and wide. Herefordshire is largely overlooked by the masses, which is part of the appeal. A patchwork of small towns criss crosses the big sky landscapes and hidden within lie some of the prettiest villages to be found anywhere in England. We skirted Birmingham and headed for the road less travelled. Progress was slow. Painfully slow. The roads are not geared to rushing. It wasn't helped by a convoy of old gypsy caravans, clogging up the Kidderminster ring road. Tommy Shelby et al were on the move, but clearly not heading to Appleby.

The road sign announced our arrival. "Herefordshire. You can". Can what? It is a strange slogan. Striking. Memorable perhaps, but strange nonetheless. The sign was adorned by a picture of a bull. Herefordshire is known for it's beef cattle, although ironically I don't remember seeing that many on our travels. I always think first and foremost of cider. Bulmers is synonymous with Herefordshire. Founded in 1887 in Hereford, it is now owned by Heineken. Bulmers Original. Refreshes the parts other ciders can't reach. Does it have the same ring to it? There is now big money in cider. No longer is it all about the apples. It has moved on from the days when, armed with a 2 litre bottle on the way to a schoolfriend's party, we would convince our parents all was well "because it was only cider".

We based ourselves near the town of Leominster. In a week when TFB finally admitted he had encountered some difficulties passing on factual information to the country - there were no parties, we were a world away from the new circus unfolding. The leadership contest was underway in the mythical land of Toryland. You won't get too far pronouncing the name as it is spelt. To the locals, it is "Lemster". "Lemster" is a small market town, but in Herefordshire terms it is a giant. The population is a mere 11,000, but it is the second town after the "big city" Hereford. We skirted the town centre, which could be small town anywhere. The first impressions are often misleading., but we would come back later in the week for a closer inspection. Time was pressing on and we needed to stock up in supplies before Sunday closing of the supermarket. Temperatures were forecast warm and the locals were busy stocking up on BBQ essentials.

We headed off to the nearby village of Eardisland. The pronunciation by the locals was more akin to "Erdsland". We were staying in a lodge on a campsite just on the outskirts of the village. The narrow lane belied the activity beyond. The curved hedge flanking the driveway gave way to a line of apple trees, all heavy with fruit. The site was a mix of lodges, static caravans and the touring section. There was a healthy population resident in all. The statics were available 10 months of the year and it seemed most were almost permanently resident, if not described as frequent visitors. As one put it, "we are here a lot of the time, in between grandparent duties". The lodge had 2 bedrooms and was spacious and well equipped. Vera was partly taken by the raised balcony, which gave her a good visibility of all passing movement. It was fenced and gated, so she survey the activity to her heart's content. She was as brave as a lion from her new perch.

"Erdsland" is situated on the splendidly named River Arrow. The river belies the name and meanders, rather than flowing straight. The campsite was on the north bank - ideal for a spot of fishing, if that is your bag. The village is part of the Black and White Village Trail. There is nothing bland or monochrome about the collection of villages - all are chocolate bix charm itself and liberally scattered with the trademark black and white half timbered buildings.The old dovecote is used as the village shop. It sits opposite the two local hostelries - the Cross and the White Swan. They are both dog friendly. Rita's Tea Rooms are sandwiched in between. The village car park comes with an unusual adornment - the oldest AA box in the country. The AA or the Automobile Association started rolling out these sentry box structures in 1912 and between then and 1968, over a 1000 were added to the roads of the UK. The purposes was to provide a base to call for assistance and also as a shelter, whilst the AA man came to your rescue. Each one was numbered. All came with a telephone, a map and a fire extinguisher. The common key was issued to all members. The "Erdsland" box is Number 321 and the only pre - War example left. It originally stood on the A44 near Pembridge, but was stored in a local man's garden once decommissioned.

Pembridge describes itself as the "heart" of the trail and probably contains more buildings than the others. We parked up in the shade down by the River Arrow and walked back into the village. The calm was shattered by the constant flow of heavy vehicles and farm machinery trundling through. The New Inn is in fact a 17th century inn. It still looked very worthy of a visit. In fact, so did the Red Lion at the bottom of the hill. A couple of gnomes were guarding the market hall. It wasn't so much a hall, but a covered canopy (which proved useful shade for Vera). The oak pillars were doing well for their age. The grass in the churchyard was being cut. The statue of sheep clearly hadn't been doing their job. The tower at St Mary the Virgin dates from the 13th century. You start to see why the New Inn is called the "new inn". The steps from the churchyard lead down to Ye Old Steppes. A cafe cum village shop, it is no ordinary shop. A plaque on the wall confirmed the status as Runner Up in the 2013 Best Village Shop in the UK.

Dilwyn was a much smaller "black and white" village. There was no hustle or bustle here. The only moving vehicle was the postie doing deliveries. The Crown was preparing to open. The War Memorial in the grounds of the Church of St Mary seems to contain a disproportionate number of names for a village of this size. A plaque commemorating the death of a young Pilot Officer stands on the village green. He crashed his Spitfire in 1940 into oak trees to avoid a collision with farmworkers in a nearby field. It was quiet too in Weobley .... pronounced Webly. The main street was scattered with more black and white, although my eye was caught by the old petrol pumps down near the church. Petrol pumps from a bygone era. The population of Weobley belies the ancient status. The town sent 2 MPs to Parliament until 1832. A magpie statue stands at the top of the square. There would be some who think it belonged at Meadow Lane and not in a corner of rural Herefordshire.

A visit to the big town to get provisions became apparent. We were back in "Lemster". A policeman sat in his speed trap van at Barons Cross by the Morrisons on the outskirts of town. The roads might have been generally poor, but the locals all seem keen Formula 1 fans. We parked up in Broad Street, where antiques seemed the key business. A number of antiques centres jostled for your attention. We sought sanctuary in Saverys - a dog friendly cafe - where the latte was keenly priced. Broad Street morphed into High Street, where a high end wine shop caught our eye. The immediate area around here and Drapers Lane offered a good choice of independent shops far above the level we had anticipated. The Corn Square was a very picturesque centre, complete with half timbered buildings (obe of which turned out) to be a Spoons. A modern trend of recent times accelerated by Covid has been the rise of internet banking. However here we have a fairly small town, a Barclays, HSBC, Lloyds, Halifax and a Nationwide. Maybe the rents are cheap and the numbers add up? It does make you wonder why elsewhere banking institutions are falling over themselves to close down their outlets and customer facing branches.

The hot temperatures made walking Vera difficult, but she was happy on the trail of the Gruffalo in Queenswood Country Park. We saved our last "black and white village" until the last night - a trip to Kingsland or specifically The Angel. Vera settled in and went to sleep, which was a good sign. The Herefordshire pale ale was spot on and a real bargain - you could see why the locals were in drinking. The food was good too - it wasn't just a burger, but an Angel Burger. As a local perusing the menu, "I come every night, so it can't be that bad".

The road to Herefordshire might be less travelled and the journey might take a bit longer, but there was plenty to see on arrival in this hidden corner.

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Photos

Eardisland, Herefordshire
Old Dovecote & village shop

Kingsland, Herefordshire
Vera keeps "an eye out" from her balcony

Pembridge, Herefordshire
Old AA road sign

Eardisland, Herefordshire
Vera keeps watch from her balcony

Eardisland, Herefordshire
The oldest surviving AA Box

Comments

[Dancing Dave]

Medieval Bell Tower of St Marys
What an awesome Bell Tower. I've posted this in our 'Cathedrals, grand churches, mosques & places of public worship' thread in the Photography Forum. Check 'em out.