Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
We scoffed down our pasties, jumped on our bikes, and left Bromyard as quickly as we
could.
AladyfromnearbyBishop'sFrome,namedVioletEveson-thegranddaughterofaloc-
al hop grower - died in 1993 leaving £47million in a trust fund for local improvements. At
the time, this was considered the largest ever single donation to a charity in the UK. This
is not particularly relevant. I just wanted to highlight that there are (or at least
were
) other
nice people in the Bromyard area, other than the lady from Loafers Patisserie.
We were soon out of Bromyard, and then out of Herefordshire and into Shropshire. We
cycled through the village of Collington and the market town of Tenbury Wells without
stopping and reached Ludlow at about 5pm.
Our visit coincided with yet another festival. The streets were packed with revellers for
the Ludlow Food Festival - our third festival in 12 hours. There was obviously a buzz of
excitement associated with each of these festivals, which was great to experience, but the
downside was that accommodation became so much harder to find.
We asked at nearly a dozen hotels, pubs and B&Bs in town, but were told by each of
them that they were full. Our offers of help were also unwanted as each establishment had
ensured they were fully staffed to cope with the influx of people to the town.
Ludlow is a quaint little town, dominated by the impressive Ludlow Castle. The town
has almost 500 listed buildings, and boasts some unique medieval and Tudor architecture.
Its links to gastronomy do not end with the Food Festival either; until recently, it had more
Michelin-starred restaurants than any other town in the UK.
We passed a house on one of the cobbled backstreets with a sign in the window which
said: 'ACCOMMODATION'. I knocked on the door.
A lady in her late sixties answered the door. She had bright white hair and a big smile.
We explained that we had seen the sign in her window, and that we were looking for some-
where to sleep.
'Well, I do have a spare room. But I very rarely have anyone staying. I don't advertise,
and nobody tends to walk this way,' she said.
We made it clear from the outset that we had no money, and that we did not want her to
feel under any obligation to let two strange men into her house.
'Well, it's always nice to have company, so if you're really desperate then I'd be very
happy for you both to stay,' she said. Ben and I looked at each other. There was a short
pause before we turned back to the lady, and said, in perfect unison:
'We're desperate!'
The lady's name was Monica, and she had lived in Ludlow for nearly 30 years. We
wheeled our bikes around to the back garden, which was a storey lower than the front of
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