There’s NO WAY I’m going to get up to date, ever. I’ll press on, starting with one of Wonderful Worcestershire’s picture book towns.
Is Upton-upon-Severn (pop. 2,881) the Finchingfield of the Midlands ? Probably not, it lacks a duck pond and attracts more visitors, even on a Wednesday on October.
What do folk come to see ?
Halfway down the High Street I had a weird feeling. I’d never been here before. Can that be true ?
Well, I’d certainly been to the White Lion years ago, even more of a flying visit than this one, but nothing looked familiar. If I’m honest, it could have been Tenbury-on-Wells except the pubs there are a bit more basic than Upton.
Surely I’d have remembered using the unique Gents, only accessible by the sort of teleportation envisaged by
The riverside pubs were doing a good trade, though the gentlefolk seemed a bit unsure about sitting outside Ye Olde Anchor as the temperature briefly dipped below 16 degrees.
As Ye Olde Worlde pubs go, it’s a corker.
A dozen or so in, no obvious food trade bar the Scotch eggs delivered as I entered.
“Make way, make way” shouted the ebullient landlady as headed to the bar carrying her precious cargo of sausage meat and egg.
She was charmingly distracted.
“Pint of Butty Bach, please“
“Pint of Tribute ?”
“No, Butty please“
“Oh, I STILL started to pour you a Tribute, didn’t I ?” She did.
If I’m honest, as I always am, I probably should have let her pour that Tribute. Everyone else was drinking it, bar the Hi Vis crowd, and the Butty was a bit “fruity”.
But a man who is tired of Wye Valley is going to find himself struggling a bit in Worcestershire, I can tell you.