retiredmartin

May 2024. Warwick.

The morning after the five pub (and a craft bar) crawl. I slept in (the campervan), undisturbed by a squirrel throwing acorns at the roof and a parking warden trying to read my ticket through the steamed up glass.

And then I gave the town a second look.

In truth, you’d pick Coventry or Leamington over Warwick for historic interiors, but the self-guided walk is incredibly consistent for beer quality and friendly locals, and I reckon that counts for a lot.

What it misses, oddly, is a great view of the actual thing Warwick is famous for, due to some clever camouflage folk who want you to pay TWENTY-NINE (29) POUNDS to go inside and watch plastic jousting and a trebuchet contest.

The best view is from the unicorn boats by the bridge, but would they even let a 59 year old bloke in one of those without his parents.

Finally, after some false leads down some pretty lanes,

you finally get the view you want.

And an hour in Warwick gives you a fresh perspective on a town whose shopping centre is a bit down-at-heel these day,

but the timber is good,

the arboretum near the station is wild and lovely, and the free town museum has the best display on hat making outside that place oop north I forget the name of,

a medieval map WITHOUT ANY MICRO PUBS ON IT,

and a living beehive.

Now, it’s not the only place you can find a living beehive, of course. Which reminds me, I really must have a night in Grantham and see what all the fuss about the Margaret Thatcher statue is all about.