12th January 2020
Never been to Edgerley before. Or Pentre. Or Wilcott Marsh.
In fact the triangle between Oswestry, Shrewsbury and Welshpool in unknown border territory.
Though it did provide a basket meal bonanza in Criggion in 2016.
Passing the Nesscliffe Army Training Centre (no micropub) I arrive to find the Royal Hill facing an unwanted visitor.
The Severn was lapping up to the floor of the outdoor drinking. A pleasing view, but a bit disconcerting.
Ahead, the road to Melverley Green and Criggion was closed off, so it’s a good job I did the Admiral Rodney (so to speak) when I had the chance.
Perhaps the flood bus will take me to the Scilly Isles when it’s less busy.
Two locals sat in the smoking shelter, unconcerned. There’s probably enough scratchings on the shelves to see them through to Summer.
“Not so long ago, the Royal Hill was quaint” says WhatPub. Still is, mate.
Better pics on the Pub Heritage site, though what stood out for me was the diversity of the locals. Gentlefolk ordering the soup, a younger couple playing in the games room redirecting me to the loos, Old Boys on the porch.
And a genuinely stunning welcome from a young lady keen to get my view on the Gold.
I can’t pretend the Salopian was great, but it was well served and tasty, and to be honest I didn’t much care (read what you like into that ?).
As relaxing as rural Shropshire gets.
Just don’t believe the signs.