Tiny, winding lanes to stroll through...check.
Surrounded by sheep-filled--or, better, lamb-filled pastures...check.
The castle with ruins...check.
The bridge over the lazy, winding river...check.
The pub with the fish and chips...check.
Bill desired to take his leadership team out for the quintessential British country village experience. Having lived in England for many years, he knew what he was looking for. And on our free Sunday evening, while the participants went to Birmingham, or a barbecue, or took a nap, we piled in a van. Forty-five minutes later, after a drive through the loveliest of English countrysides, the sun streaming down on those lamb-filled pastures, we arrived in Bridgnorth.
Perched on the crest of a hill, Bridgnorth overlooked the winding river, complete with geese, swans and ducks, willows and bridges--positively Shakespearean. We meandered till sunset, the strain of the past week melting in the charm of English gardens, and the fragrance of violets. Near the old church, the ruins of an old castle tilted like the Tower of Pisa, and a sign attested to its purpose: to defend against the Danes.
We followed old donkey paths around former ramparts, and took pictures of Hobbit-like doors and windows.
Back on the main street, with its centuries-old town market, we found the quintessential pub. After decoding the menu (what in the world are homemade faggots?!), we ordered our meals, complete with elderberry juice or red wine, and the banter of good friends, until it was time to head back.
In case you missed the album on Facebook, with all the pix, here are a few teasers.
And if you ever find yourself in the Black Country around Birmingham, check it out. And I recommend the upstairs table in the window at La Brasserie :)