On To Ludlow

 

All too soon it was time to leave the rain washed, windswept streets of the Athens of the North and the comfort of the Royal Scots and head to Ludlow. I rode the rails to this charming market town, once home to the Council of the Marches and a key defensive point against savage Welsh raiders.

Today the town's less about beating back the ferocious Welsh and recalcitrant nobility and more about butchers, bakers, fishmongers, green grocers, outstanding late Medieval and Georgian architecture and... pubs. We liked the Blue Boar, with its fire and mostly peaceful ambiance.

And walking too. If you go to this gem of a border town, take time to stroll around the castle, the river and, if you're feeling adventurous, climb up into the hills above the town. I asked my friends if there were bears in the woods, apparently there aren't, but we did see a large buzzard which reminded me of home. As did a view of the Malverns, which I used to be able to see from my bedroom window as teenager in Cheltenham. Memories.

Speaking of which, on the last day there, my old boss MCP drove over to visit at the Blue Boar. Onetime poacher turned gamekeeper in the IT world of the '90s and '00s, he's become an author and published a book to critical acclaim in Dublin. It's called Long Lost Log and details his adventures sailing across the Atlantic as crew in an eccentric "thoroughbred" of a boat in 1974. What a lot of fun to meet up.

So well done MCP and big thanks to S&K for great Shropshire hospitality. And now? Back to London for a few days before heading home to Texas.

Cheers,

LSP

Trapper

In Pershore, U.K., the squirrels are running wild, out of hand. So what's to be done? Shoot them? yes, but it's a 'built up area', so MCP traps them and...

They meet their demise.

As I recall, the same mallet/cosh was used against the moles. It's a weighty thing and, at the end of the day, more humane than not. Squirrels end up on BBQ. Well, its not hog, but you get your game where you find it and as SBW reminds us, if you're not prepared to kill what you eat...

On another theme; go to the excellent Boomers site for some well needed Hillaire Belloc + great article viz. Apex rifle. 

LSP

Dog Wars

The thing about country life after the city is that its peaceful; you can see the stars at night, the air's cleaner, there aren't so many cars, you can hear the birds sing and - the dogs bark. A lot, loudly, all the time, in my neighbour's back yard from around 6 a.m. when their pit bull brains are woken up by the Rooster, until around midnight when they're so exhausted by barking that they crash out.

It's an issue here and God fearing folk are taking deperate measures - as you can see, some have opted for poison, which is tempting. Others suggest sniping with .22, also tempting but risky - who wants to end up in gaol for performing a public service? Others again feel that a  Taser might do the trick. Well it probably would but I don't have one.

Whatever, it drove me out into the fields where I managed to stay on the horse, so that was good and even better - MCP has made a song which you might like to watch/hear. Its about the honesty of Great Britain's politicians http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ImmQO3YOaw

These it seems have sunk into a trough of eighteenth century style jobbery, corruption and malfeasance; just throw in piracy on the high seas and the illusion's near complete. Oh, we have that too! So what's missing? "Talent" says my supernaturalist friend and Church Warden, Alan Delgarde.

Maybe, but ah, the dogs are silent. At last. Never underestimate the power of prayer.

LSP

Mole Catcher

Years ago, in the hoary antiquity of the mid '90s, I found myself taking a break from parish life and working for a small company in London that was all about something called Lotus Notes. A lot of fun and led by the charismatic IT, Marketing and PR chieftan, MCP - Michael Chapman Pincher. But times moved on and we went our separate ways, me to America and a return to priestly life, MCP to IT Supremacy somewhere in London. Splendid.

Then things changed; after a cataclysmic '07/08 we both ended up living in the country, Texas and Pershore respectively, each suffering from multiple, vicious back wounds. Anyhow, I visited him a few weeks back and as we hadn't seen each other for years it was straight down to a riverside pub to swap grisly knife in the back stories whilst admiring the sunlit pastoral idyll that is that part of Worcestershire. Beautiful. Then I noticed that my erstwhile guv'nor's hands were strangely calloused, as though he'd become a Son of the Soil, which is exactly what had happened.

When the IT thing ended MCP was thrown back to Pershore, his wits and the land. The Corporate World had turned his back on him - not so the country and he found new employment as a Trapper, a mole trapper. I understand it started off in a small way and then moved up; when I was there the business was expanding to rabbits and now, evidently, squirrels.

So, when I wasn't busy taking pictures of Aghas, myself in the mirror and enjoying the excellent company and house of Mr. & Mrs. MCP, it was down to the new office - the mole fields.

These had been digging up land used to pasture race horses and had to go - 12 traps per beast, which seemed intense but I gather they're pretty wiley. As were the rabbits who were conspicious by their absence; no doubt sensing the risk of death they were keeping their heads down. Still, nothing daunted, we set up a trap at the warren and paused for a moment's reflection. I asked my friend if he'd changed his theological point of view from believing that "it's all down to carbon boys" to something else: 

"So what d'you think about God these days?" After a long pause and gaze at the field he replied, "Well, I spend a lot of time on my knees right now..."

Excellent and well done - I'd say that the Deity has shown uncommon kindness; after all, what's better? Hideous corporate world, or living in a beautiful house in a country town whilst carving out a new niche in edible (rabbit/squirrel) pest control?

Massive respect to Michael and Becky Chapman Picher.

LSP

PS. More from the MCP homestead later.