ISSUE 14 – SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2016 – FREE
Ludlow’s Masonic Lodge Guess who’s passed her driving test? King’s Singer: Patrick Dunachie Bill Pearson’s Castle Lodge Much Ado About Nothing Richard Palmer investigates, again Cycling stars: Stanton-Warren and Fotheringham
“I hear the jingling of the Masons’ jewels as they go down another set of stairs in this maze of a building and, as if by magic, they are sat down by the time the rest of us step into the temple itself...” I’VE often passed the mysterious maroon door on Brand Lane that leads to the Masonic Lodge and, as I suspect many people in Ludlow have, wondered what exactly lay behind it. Occasionally, I’ve witnessed a flock of smartly dressed men, suited and booted, heading towards it with dark briefcases in hand and, being naturally nosy, I’ve felt tempted to follow them in (disguised only with a fake moustache and a pair of socks stuffed down my trousers). Which is why, when I received an invitation to one of the Ludlow Lodge’s occasional ‘open days’, I jumped at the chance. What exactly are the Masons? Who are they? What do they do? And what’s with the rolled up trouser legs and the handshakes?
The air of mystery around the organisation is only heightened when an email arrives. At ‘19:00 hours’, as stipulated by the alliterative Robin Richardson, I’m to meet him on the corner of Brand Lane and Old Street, like a spy in a John le Carré novel. The email says, intriguingly, that he’ll be wearing ‘stripped’ trousers. Disappointingly, this turns out to be a typo and the affable Robin is simply wearing a rather dapper striped suit instead. No sign of an apron. The open evenings, Robin explains, are a chance for potential new members to come and find out more about the Masons and, tonight, they’ve invited me along too as a special guest. It’s surprisingly municipal inside the Lodge, with a faint but discernible
whiff of damp on the ground floor, but I’m swiftly whisked up the stairs to the first floor and into a small, dark-red bar already full of jovial older gents, glasses in hand. Robin introduces me to the current Worshipful Master of the Lodge, the entertaining Brian. Originally from London, he’s moved around a fair bit before ending up in Ludlow, an area he’s got a real passion for. Roger, a prospective new member who’s come along for the open night, agrees wholeheartedly, “I wouldn’t swap it for the world.” Brian originally joined the Masons through his father-in-law. “I thought I’d fit into this, but it took me two years to get in.” Not, he explains, through a cap on numbers but merely because most Lodges meet infrequently.
– www.ludlowledger.co.uk –
His father-in-law’s Lodge only met four times a year in London. Ludlow’s Lodge, by comparison, meets October through to May once a month on the first Wednesday of every month. The meetings start with a ceremony at 6pm (sorry, 18:00 hours) followed by various “bits and pieces” (mainly admin and not as exciting as it sounds) before they retire upstairs for a meal, toasting and wine tastings or drinks. “We leave here around 10pm or so, very happy,” says Brian with a grin. There’s a strong sense that the convivial effects of Shropshire’s finest breweries are a contributing factor to this and there’s vocal appreciation of Ludlow Brewery’s beers in particular.
Continued on page 10 >
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Contents MY STORY 4
World-famous King’s Singers’ Patrick Dunachie
ISSUE IN FACTS 5
Did you know that most Royal Canadian Mounties actually ride in cars?
DRIVING
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It’s all go for Ledger Liz: not only has she (finally) just tied the knot, she’s only just gone and (finally) passed her driving test
PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE
6-7
Ludlow loyalty card, town’s paid-for toilets, a museum re-imagined, sleeping rough for the Foyer, Crash plaque, and Ludlow’s fallen finally and fully honoured
PROFILE 8-9
“Bill Pearson has been many things in his life. He’s been a Mountie in Canada, dabbled in film, and worked with wood but now, at the ripe old age of 82, he’s the owner and custodian of one of Ludlow’s genuine treasures, the ancient Grade II*-listed Castle Lodge in the heart of Castle Square.”
10 An evening spent with Ludlow’s Masons LETTERS 12
COVER STORY ... continued
490 bus route update, May Bradley feature, ‘Ludlow Shropshire Memories’ and councillor speaks out over Shropshire Council’s controversial oak-tree felling
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CROSSWORD 12
9 across: Mildred’s oddly not exhibiting on this day of the month (4)
OBSERVATIONS 13
“A quick comparison between my 1962 OS map of the area (inch to a mile, sheet 129) and the 2011 Landranger series map, shows the way the town has grown, filled in and spread outwards.”
GARDENING
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“You may be wondering what place gold-top milk bottles have in a column loosely described under the heading of ‘gardening’. Well, everything really (not necessarily the milk) but the birds, yes.”
FICTION 14
Ludlow author’s Richard Palmer investigates again
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REVIEW
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SPORT
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“Oliver Buckner’s gangly, opinionated and feisty Beatrice brought to mind a school lacrosse captain of years gone by – she definitely took no prisoners” Town’s cycling stars: Jack Stanton-Warren and Patrick Fotheringham
Editor’s notes, hello again Fishing isn’t really about catching fish – so many say – but something of substance on the end of the line, every now and then, does make it all worthwhile, especially when you’re sat on a damp bank in the early hours, being rained on, with a size 8 hook barbed into the side of your thumb. Between the age of 7 and 11 I was accustomed to such things, managing to cut myself on most things (not limited to luncheon meat tins, barbed wire, and broken glass found on the river bed) and lose more fish than I caught. But I soldiered on, sensibly making good use of my time away from the river’s edge – going so far as to employ the expanse of cow fields in front of the family home, to practise my long-distance casting – only to fish, the next day, in a tiny brook that required little more than a gentle flick to place my bait under a tree that was literally touching distance away, on the opposite side of the bank. Casting this inappropriately explains why I usually returned home with two less floats, half my line tangled up in
a willow, and with little more than tall tales to tell at the dinner table later that day. But come the following weekend, you’d find me back out there, this time armed with a tub of worms, a little less oomph in my right arm, and some split shot and ledger in place of my dwindling float supply. My younger brother Ryan would later become the far superior of fisherman, but I was persistent – honestly believing that one-day I’d net the infamous pike that the elders promised lurked under Tenbury’s Teme bridge, and/or the even bigger eel that congregated under the lime ledge. I don’t suppose that either fish existed (not in the suggested sizes anyway) but that’s not the point. For what you don’t always gain in a bounty of fins and gills, you most certainly gain in personal enrichment – helping to shape you into the person you’ll become when, perhaps, some years later, tackling up for another weekend by the river doesn’t carry the charm it once did. But it never leaves you – and thankfully so – as I’ve just taken up the baton (well rod and reel)
once again, with 30+ years under my belt since I last cast at the Teme in anger and, for whatever reason, I now seem to be much better at it.... I suppose having more in the way of a disposable income has meant a much better equipped 43-year old Jon to that of my 7-to-11-year-old self, which helps quite a bit, and I can now manhandle a luncheon meat tin without taking off my arm in the process, which is encouraging. My modern success is, no doubt, also helped by my aging limbs being incapable of a 300-yard-long cast (resulting in less tree-catching). Whatever the reason, I’m truly proud to announce that I have been landing more in the way of chub, eel, and – recently – a 7lb barbel. Who would have thought it? The 7-to-11-year-old me would be so proud, I just know it.
Cheers, Jon Saxon editor@ludlowledger.co.uk Office – 01584 872381 Mobile – 07795 244060
Editor’s notes image} Alejandro Rodriguez |Print} Guardian Print Centre, Manchester | Letterpress printed masthead} Dulcie Fulton: mostlyflat.co.uk
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Ledger stockists
The new King’s Singer from Ludlow
Patrick, the king of a wildly exciting frontier text} Patrick Dunachie | images} Andy Staples – MY STORY –
LUDLOW 55 Mill Street Ludlow Aragon’s Café Church St Artisan Ales Old St Assembly Rooms Mill St Baker’s Café Tower St Barber Jacks Lower Galdeford Bentley’s Castle Square Bindery Shop Bull Ring Blue Boar Mill Street Castle Bookshop Market Square Castle Lodge Buttery Castle Square Charlton Arms Ludford Bridge China Garden New Rd Cicchetti Bar Broad St Cliffe Hotel Dinham Codfather Sandpits Corve Garage Bromfield Rd Cottage Cafe Attorneys Walk Countrywide Weeping Cross Lane Crumbs Tower St Ego’s Wine Bar Quality Square Fish House Bull Ring Green Café Dinham Guild Hall Mill St Harp Lane Deli Church St Homecare Temeside La Jewellery Parkway Mews Leisure Centre Bromfield Rd Ludlow Castle Castle Square Ludlow Brewing Co Station Drive Ludlow Ledger 14 Corve St Ludlow Stoves Gravel Rd Ludlow Touring Park Ludford Ludlow Train Station Station Drive Mascall Centre Lower Galdeford Mod Lang The Woodyard (Corve St) Myriad Organics Corve St Olive Branch Bull Ring Pea Green Café Lower Galdeford Poyners Broad St Queens Lower Galdeford Quintessential Upper Galdeford Red Hair Studio New Rd Renaissance Centre Tower St Rickards Bull Ring Rockspring Centre Sandpits Rose & Crown Church St Sam’s Café Lingen Ind Est Silk Top Hat Gallery Quality Square St Laurence’s Church College St Swifts Bakery Corve St Tiger Lilly Bull Ring Tourist Information Mill St Unicorn Corve St Vaughan’s Sandwich Bar King St V Café New Rd Wheatsheaf Lower Broad St Woodyard Gallery Woodyard ----------------------------------------------FURTHER A FIELD Aardvark Books Brampton Bryan Apple Tree Onibury Boot Inn Orleton Brightwells Auction Leominster Cleobury Café Cleobury Mortimer Community Shop Aston-on-Clun Community Centre Craven Arms Country Centre Cleobury Mortimer Courtyard Antiques Presteigne Crown Inn Newcastle-on-Clun Crusty Cob Cleobury Mortimer Discovery Centre Craven Arms Fiddler’s Elbow Leintwardine Market Hall Cleobury Mortimer Mortimer Stores Wigmore Nelson Inn Rocks Green Old Downton Lodge Downton Plough Inn Wistanstow Roebuck (pub & shop) Brimfield Sun Inn Leintwardine Talbot Inn Newnham Bridge Tourist Information Tenbury Wells Village Hall Ashford Carbonell Village Shop Lydbury North Fancy becoming a Ludlow Ledger stockist? stock@ludlowledger.co.uk
On the 19th of October this year, the world-famous King’s Singers are visiting Ludlow to give a concert in St Laurence’s Church. The group is acclaimed and travels worldwide, but now has a special link with our small corner of Shropshire – the latest, very recent addition to the line-up was born and bred here ……. -----------------------------------------------I was born, in 1993, into a family of musicians and grew up in Ludlow, where my parents still live. My father (Steve) is a piano teacher, music therapist and composer; my brother (Liam) is a freelance jazz pianist and musical theatre MD in London; my mother (Penny) sings in St. Laurence’s Church Choir, and it was there that I had my first taste of choral singing – something that is now the focus of my life and work. Like my brother before me, I sang in St. Laurence’s from the age of five, moving on to Hereford Cathedral School and the cathedral choir (under the direction of Geraint Bowen) when we had developed some musical skills. During five happy Hereford chorister years, I toured the USA three times, sang on national radio several times, and daily performed difficult (and quite often new) music to a professional standard – these were experiences that shaped my future life and gave me skills (musical and non-musical) which I now rely on in my new role as a member of The King’s Singers. When my voice started to change, I left Hereford Cathedral Choir, experimented with singing other voice parts and re-joined St. Laurence’s Church Choir where I sang for a year as a countertenor. I realised that this vocal range worked well for me and I went back to Hereford Cathedral Choir during my last two years at school, to sing as a countertenor lay clerk on a professional basis. It was during this time that I began to realise that professional singing could be my career and I started to fit in singing work wherever I could – frequently singing in Birmingham with a group called Ex Cathedra, and in London with The Rodolfus Choir, an excellent youth choir. In 2012 I won a scholarship to King’s College, Cambridge, to study for a degree in academic music and to sing in its world-famous choir, under the direction of Stephen Cleobury. I had an incredible three years studying
and with the privilege of singing daily in one of the most beautiful chapels in the world. My experiences really gave me a taste of life as a professional singer: as well as daily services, we toured Asia, Australia, the USA and all over Europe; we sang on national television broadcasts at Christmas and Easter each year; and we recorded numerous CDs. During this time I also acquired a taste for a cappella ‘close harmony’ singing, and experimenting with arrangements of pop and jazz songs … some light relief from the sacred music we sang in King’s College Choir. After graduating in 2015, I moved to Oxford and joined Christ Church Cathedral Choir as a lay clerk. I balanced my duties singing in the cathedral in Oxford with teaching at a local school, singing regularly with Westminster Cathedral Choir, as well as solo concerts and freelance work with various consorts. It was during my year in Oxford that I had a surprise email from one of the King’s Singers, asking me if I’d like to audition for the first countertenor position in the group and I jumped at the chance – I’ve been a fan since I was very young. Two tough rounds of successful auditions and my life hasn’t been quite the same since. Between my appointment in January and my first concert in September, I have had to learn hundreds of pieces from memory, had many rehearsals, attended meetings and concerts around the world learning (from my predecessor, David) the inner workings of the job, and I’ve had a beautiful suit cut and tailored for me. In this coming year, The King’s Singers will be recording three CDs, undertaking a busy schedule of masterclasses and coaching, singing around 110 concerts, and travelling all over Europe, to the United States and to South Africa. In amongst this busy schedule, the thing I am looking forward to most is coming to Ludlow to perform on the 19th of October in St. Laurence’s Church – Ludlow is where it all began for me, and it will be such a rare treat to perform not only on home turf, but in the very church where I squeaked my first notes as a five-year-old boy. I really hope to be able to sing it to a church packed with familiar and friendly faces.
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This issue in facts
Learning to drive in Ludlow
page 5
Only 46 percent of test candidates pass their driving theory test on their first attempt. 40 percent of learner drivers can’t answer these two questions: If your car has unbalanced wheels, what can this cause? How can you identify areas reserved for trams?
page 8
MOST Royal Canandian Mounties actually ride in cars, not on horses. Also, the RCMP made a controversial licensing deal with Walt Disney to control who has access to their image. Their online shop (known as the Mounty Shop) sells products with their image; since 2002 they have been able to raise over one million dollars for programmes within Canadian communities.
page 10
A man named William Morgan was rejected from the Masons in the 1800s; he pitched and received a large advance to, then, publish a book revealing their secrets. He disappeared and was never seen or heard from again.
page 14
Despite being involved in what was basically a terrorist plot, Guy Fawkes was named the 30th Greatest Briton in a poll conducted by the BBC in 2002.
page 15
On October 4th 1960 a a Lockheed Electra aeroplane, setting off from Boston Airport, stirred up a flock of 10,000 starlings on the runway. It flew straight into the avian cloud which choked the engines and brought the aeroplane down, claiming 62 human lives. ... The European starling is not native to North America, it was introduced in 1890 by a Shakespeare fan, Eugene Schieffelin, who wanted New York’s Central Park to be home to all the songbirds mentioned in Shakespeare’s work. The starling is mentioned in Henry IV Part One when Hotspur, forbidden by the king to mention the name of Mortimer, declares that he will train a starling to say his name and sing it continually in his majesty’s ear. These days they have ousted many native species, forming gigantic flocks of up to a million birds. Schieffelin’s gesture not only brought about an air crash, but an ecological disaster too.
Liz has now, finally, gone round the bend text} Liz Hyder | image} Ashleigh Cadet – DRIVING – aT the end of August just gone I drove to Hereford for the first time. Not because, dear reader, my chauffeur had found a new position in a better household with a more fashionable barouche-landau but, because I had finally passed my driving test and wanted to celebrate, in a traditionally British fashion, by driving to a retail park on a bankholiday weekend. Well, that and the fact that I don’t actually have a chauffeur. At the ripe old age of 38, I’m well aware that I’m a late learner (many thanks to the young boy who pointed at me and bellowed “SHE CAN’T POSSIBLY BE LEARNING TO DRIVE, CAN SHE?” which I hope was ageism and not a comment on me personally) but, now that I’ve passed, I can join in conversations about the best A-roads from hither to thither and the worst routes between this and that. I’m still learning the tutting and the dismissive shaking of the head, when disapproving of someone else’s circuitous route, but, as my marvellous, patient, driving teacher Sarah told me many times, you never stop learning. I remember my first lesson vividly. It consisted of me driving around the Eco Park in circles for two hours. After this lesson Sarah insisted that I was ‘ready to go out on the roads’ so I did the dutiful thing, ignored her, and instead spent the next lesson driving around in circles on the Eco Park again until she finally convinced me that I could actually turn right – RIGHT! – and venture out on to proper roads where there were proper drivers … and proper sheep … and cyclists and all sorts. When driving along Henley Road, we saw three other learner drivers coming the other way. I wondered what the collective noun for learner drivers might be and, quick as a flash, Sarah retorted “Oh, that’s easy, it’s a nightmare.” ... I think it was at that point that I knew we were going to get on well. At the same time as my lessons started, I was also brushing up on the Highway Code. Readers of a certain age who passed some years back may not be aware that there’s a relatively new test that learner drivers must do in addition to the actual driving test. Mesdames et Messieurs, I present to you (drum roll) the Theory Test. Not only does this mean that you have to memorise the Highway Code but it also tests
you on hazard perception. In order to practice this, I started muttering and then yelling “HAZARD!” at every potential opportunity during each lesson. I will be forever grateful to my instructor Sarah that she didn’t give in to temptation and whack me over the head with her weighty folder. One must venture into the wilds of Hereford or Shrewsbury to take one’s Theory Test and, only after passing, can one then book in for the practical test. I’ll be honest, the Theory Test is like the worst pub quiz ever followed by the world’s must rubbish computer game. You sit in a little booth with a headset on and answer 50 multiple choice questions about the Highway Code. Then there’s a short pause while you twiddle your thumbs and contemplate being the oldest person in the room before you continue with the hazard perception test. This means watching a series of short videos of a car driving along with you ‘in the driver’s seat’ as it were. You must determine what poses a hazard and what doesn’t, by clicking when you see what you consider to be a potential hazard. If you click too many times, it’ll fail you on that particular video. So you must click a bit but not too much. Hazards may include a pedestrian who’s about to run across the road to hail a bus. Or, my particular favourite, and this really did happen as part of my Theory Test, a herd of deer running across a country road followed by an eagerly panting dog. There was, alas, no man running after the dog shouting “Fenton!’ which was, frankly, disappointing. The really weird – and, frankly, disturbing – thing about the hazard perception test is that the videos are actually all CGI. None of it is real. And whoever the designers were clearly have a bit of a thing for women in stilettos as it seems that all the women nonchalantly wear staggeringly high heels – even the blind woman who crossed in front of me at a zebra crossing, tap tapping her white stick (possibly in time with the click of her heels). To add to the sense of surrealism, none of the humans have real faces, just weird staring children’s-drawing zombie faces from the future. Unnerving. Anyway, the short of it is, that I passed and the practical test beckoned. After some many months of learning clutch control, how to change gears without looking and how to navigate tiny roads teeming with tractors, buses and pedestrians (with and without stilettos), I was almost ready – just the little trouble I was still
having with road positioning on wider carriageways, like the A49. Sarah gave me a few tips on this, which ended with me saying “Ooh, you’re right, if I position my bum along the brown streak in the road, I’m in the right place.” We both cried with laughter and nearly had to pull into a nearby lay-by to recover. The day of the test loomed. I could parallel park, do a nifty left reverse and turn in the road (the re-named three-point turn) but could I pass? Had I really got over my irrational fear of roundabouts? Could I ‘hold the bite’ on a hill, turn right out of Steventon New Road on ‘Danger
Corner’ and drive through ‘Suicide Alley’, aka King Street? Well, you know the rest – after all I’ve driven to Hereford and back now (she says with a grin). Today, my driving licence proper arrived in the post, a little shiny official card that made me feel quite proud of myself that, after all these years of living in cities and not bothering to learn, I’d finally done it. I’m a proper qualified driver. It’s just a terrible shame that after all that effort and learning and practice … the photo on it makes me look like a convicted serial killer.
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only in
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King Street Crash, sunflowers and 25 sleeping rough
Since issue 13 of Ludlow Ledger text} Jon Saxon – PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE – Since the last issue of Ludlow Ledger, the Grade I listed Buttercross has finally re-opened its doors as the town’s latest take on a museum. Its move from the relative expanse of the Assembly Rooms has triggered another stage in the Assembly Room’s development – where once lived ornaments of torture, bygone fossils, and stuffed birds, will (soon-ish) be a ‘state-of-the-art’ café. As Ludlow North Councillor Andy Boddington put it: “It is fair to say that this project has taken much longer to bring to fruition than anyone thought it might, but it’s a great little museum. I like the way the exhibits have been displayed. I like that the exhibition area is not overcrowded. And I like the entrance price – £1 for adults and 50p for children over five. Geology features strongly – Ludlow after all has its own Silurian epoch. The fossils and minerals are exhibited alongside artefacts and tales of the
Anglo-Saxon era, the Civil War, the First World War and much more.” Ludlow’s re-imagined museum is successfully accessible for the disabled by means of a short ramp and a modern glass lift. Open Friday to Sunday: 10am-4pm. The Buttercross was built around 1743, replacing a 16th-century building which was, itself, built upon the site of the High Cross – the official centre of the town. It was here – under its roof – that a good number of Ludlow’s folk recently made a poignant stand by sleeping out on the town’s streets. Armed with sheets of cardboard, plastic bags, and the relative comfort of sleeping bags, the 25 or so campaigners did their bit to highlight the threat (brought on by the financial cuts across Shropshire in 2014/15) that faces vulnerable young people (in the shape of Shropshire Housing Group’s Ludlow Foyer) with the axing of its two principal sources of finance: Housing Benefit and the Supporting People county grant.
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In addition to the all-night on-street protest, an online petition exists, which has (at the last count) already exceeded the 1,000 required signatures for Shropshire Council to debate support for the homeless – the main chunk in the form of paper signatures, along with 300 or so online. You can add your name to this important list here: ipetitions.com/petition/ ludlowfoyer The threatened Ludlow Foyer is located in the converted 1Marstons Mill (built in the 1890s by a prominent local firm of corn merchants and bakers) and currently provides 15 bed spaces in single rooms, some communal facilities and a friendly, positive, programme of support and training for vulnerable young people aged 16-25. This incomparable community asset lists five full-time members of staff and an external concierge service providing crucial 24-hour cover – standing as the only facility for under 18s in the south of the county. Thankfully those who took to sleeping rough, for the above cause, access was awarded to the public toilets located at Castle Square car park. Yet, for every-day users, 20p is now a must to use these amenities. The decision to charge is to cover the increased cleaning costs: Mayor of Ludlow (Paul Draper) suggests that this new policy will help in promoting Ludlow as a “clean, safe, welcoming and prosperous town for all”. How ‘clean, safe, welcoming and prosperous’ Ludlow will appear when those without a 20p (many don’t always
have 20p to hand) find a nearby tree under the umbrella of the castle walls, or go behind a parked car a stone’s throw from a perfectly good public convenience. Those up in arms can, so say the Council, just pop over the road and use the provisions at Ludlow Assembly Rooms. How long until they too need to employ more cleaners to keep up with demand, thus placing cashiers at the cubicles and troughs?
are soon to take up the old home of Shoe Zone on King Street.
Cashiers at 48 independently-owned shops and cafés in Ludlow now proudly have their very own loyalty card. Of course, not all the town’s businesses are involved, as they must be a member of Ludlow Chamber of Trade – which carries an annual fee of £25. Those on board are easily identified by the schemes’ sunflower logo and ‘Loyalty Card accepted here’ window stickers. The 2Only In Ludlow project is all about raising awareness of the enjoyment and economic importance of shopping, eating and drinking in local businesses – a scheme which builds on the concept of 63p from every pound spent staying within the local economy, compared to the 40p norm with a national chain.
Once upon a time there lived a publishing company of great national importance – spread over three upper floors, in the Barclays-owned building, above what was most recently Gifts & Chocolates. It was here, in the early 1980s, that Roger Kean, and brothers Franco and Oliver Frey operated as Newsfield Publications Limited ... their most famous title being 3Crash, which launched in 1983 as a software catalogue, offering reviews of games and a mail-order service. A year later it blossomed into a full-fledged magazine, focusing exclusively on the ZX Spectrum. A considerable cult following ensured that Crash remained in print, as a Newsfield publication at least, until October 1991. Newsfield went on to launch Zzap!64 (for the Commodore 64) and a number of other key, though perhaps not-so pivotal publications, including Amtix!, LM and Fear. Newsfield are now (and quite rightly so) properly celebrated by a blue Ludlow Civic plaque, positioned on the side of No2 King Street. Expect the full Newfield Story in a future issue of Ludlow Ledger.
Even more national chains have claimed a roost in Ludlow: White Stuff (women’s and men’s clothing, accessories and gifts, with over 100 shops to their name in this Country) already accommodate a prominent slot in Castle Square, whilst British fashion and lifestyle brand, Joules Clothing,
A series of creative and music intervention sessions (dubbed ‘Songs for You’), for people with dementia and their carers, is now running at Helena Lane Centre in Ludlow with experienced singer, musician and storyteller Sal Tonge, on alternate Thursdays at 1:30pm. The first two of
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these have been and gone, with the next two being held on 13th and 27th October, followed by 24th November and 8th and 22nd December. Care homes, residential homes and service users and carers in the community wishing to get involved can contact David Key on 01743 257750 for more details or to book. Twelve months of relentless campaigning by Poyners’ ladies, Margaret Edwards and Jean Parker, recently came to fruition, resulting in the proud unveiling of the paving area around 4Ludlow’s Peace Memorial, in Castle Square – the stones have been engraved with the names of many of the service men from the town who lost their lives during WW1, WW2 and the Korean War. The ladies’ campaign was helped by donations of £5700. A memorial get together – celebrating the life and times of Tim Barrass (as featured in Ludlow Ledger 13) – is to take place at Ludlow Brewery: 6:30pm and 8pm on the 19th October. There is finally some movement at Church Inn – with (at the time of writing) whitewashed windows hiding a “light, sympathetic refurbishment” so reads the Listed Building Consent application, which is live online for consideration. You can have a nose at the full proposals yourself and comment as you wish, by visiting pa.shropshire.gov.uk ... searching for 16/03750/LBC. The ‘Amended Heritage Statement’ reads: “We intend to keep the fabric
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and character of the building the same with the only exception being the moving of the bar area into the restaurant area, with a new solid oak floor to the front section. “The original part of the bar will be sympathetically restored and refinished to a high standard in its new position. This will open up the central area to be a light and airy restaurant space, which will be carpeted. The rest of the interior will be decorated throughout as agreed.” Whilst penning this paper I am wearing my publishing hat, rather than that of my publican variety (and that of the Ledger rather the Doghouse – the British pub magazine ... which would be a rather easy one to slip on, regarding pub matters) and instead turn to Mr J M Richards, who wrote the forward for Inside The Pub (Architectural Press, 1950): “...pub owners cannot afford to ignore the intangible visual attributes on which the appeal of the pub rests. It must be insisted again and again that good pub design consists in creating the right visual atmosphere, and that (to give but one example) to sacrifice the old and cosy multiplicity of bars for one large one where the sense of intimacy is lost, is a betrayal of the pub tradition.” If any of the relatively recent make overs in town are anything to go by, it appears that I have the only copy of this long since out-of-print book. I sincerely hope another edition surfaces soon.
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“It has lovely production values, a pleasing aroma of paper, is thick and just right to read in the pub, has an avalanche of words tumbling over the edge of the precipice, photos of pubs that you might want to enter and others you might want to give a miss, has the size and feel of Wallpaper, and swells with an infectious liveliness. It’s a valuable record of pub life, whimsical and occasionally rambling, but well worth looking out for.” Adrian Tierney-Jones “If you like pubs and good writing, as much as I do, then you’ll probably like Doghouse magazine as much as I do.” Charlie Connelly
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Castle Lodge’s Bill Pearson
Ludlow’s lodge is a man’s castle text} Liz Hyder | image} Ashleigh Cadet – PROFILE – Bill Pearson has been many things in his life. He’s been a Mountie in Canada, dabbled in film, and worked with wood but now, at the ripe old age of 82, he’s the owner and custodian of one of Ludlow’s genuine treasures, the ancient Grade II*-listed Castle Lodge in the heart of Castle Square. On the afternoon I interview Bill (a man with stories to tell and a twinkle in his eyes) he’s got a big grin on his face. He’s spent the morning measuring the wood panelling in the house and estimates it to be “around 4,000 square metres.” It’s a huge amount and Bill is convinced that the panelling is extra special, claiming that it came from Nonsuch Palace (Henry VIII’s last grand palace) and it was installed in Castle Lodge by order of none other than Queen Elizabeth I. “He wanted to build a palace better than anyone else’s. In a bit of a rush, he brought together the leading craftsmen from all over Europe. When Elizabeth came to the throne, she had Sir Thomas Seckford working for her as one of her top ministers – he went everywhere with her, advised her on everything. On one occasion, Sir Francis Drake was kept waiting two years to talk to Elizabeth, but he couldn’t get to her because Seckford kept blocking him.” Bill believes that Elizabeth ordered the panelling from Nonsuch to be installed at Castle Lodge for Seckford in around “1590-something” but the house already existed well before then; parts of the house date as far back as the early 13th century although it was rebuilt in early Tudor and Elizabethan times. Along with Ludlow Castle, the house was home to Catherine of Aragon for a short period – after the death of husband Prince Arthur, she stayed here for a short period before marrying Arthur’s younger brother, Henry VIII. “It was part of the royal castle,” says Bill, “it was even joined to the castle by a secret tunnel but it’s bricked in now”. I can’t resist a peep behind the door that the Blytonesque tunnel leads from … and indeed there’s a tempting hole at the bottom of the bricks. According to Bill, it was bricked up in relatively recent times
although long before he and his late wife, Gwen Pearson, took ownership of the building. “Royalty, bishops and MPs have all lived here,” says Bill with a smile. “Even Oliver Cromwell was here during the Civil War.” Lady Jane Grey, Queen of England for just nine days, also lived in Castle Lodge as a child. “You can tell from the panelling that royalty lived here,” says Bill. “It’s all quarter sawn which is very wasteful of timber. To get the beautiful graining, that real quality panelling, it needs to be quarter sawn but that was very expensive – only the really rich could afford it. When the panelling was installed (over a period of nine years or so, we think) they rebuilt the house to accommodate it and an extra storey was added on the house – the black and white top floor that overhangs the rest of the house by a yard. It means that the rain, even when it’s heavy, doesn’t even touch the sides of the house.” The house is built on one of the highest points in Ludlow too. “Wherever you head from here, it’s going downhill,” Bill declares. “It’s built on solid rock, like the castle, and it’s a very strong house. Over 500 years and the panelling hasn’t even shrunk a millimetre.” Bill says he rang the British Museum about six months ago to check how many panels from Nonsuch they had. “They only have a handful,” he says with glee. “I told them I’ve got thousands. They sent someone up and he stood there in that front room, in front of Henry VIII’s own fireplace, and was gobsmacked. He was so overcome he couldn’t even speak.” Bill doesn’t have a computer but has been “working with various experts for over two years now. They are helping me with research – I’ve got about two inches thick of information and we’re going to write a book.” Before Bill bought Castle Lodge, he’d led a varied life – at 18 he headed to Canada for work and adventure, and ended up in the Army, working in timber, and even in Canada’s famous mounted police. “It’s a very cold place in the winter, colder than the North Pole
– sometimes it was -60 or -70, you can’t even walk in it. The winds come from Russia and the North Pole and it was un-breathable.” Despite that, he stayed there for the best part of a decade even auditioning for a series of films about the Mounties. They turned him down for having an English accent but, instead, offered him the role of stuntman as the main actor couldn’t actually ride a horse. “The second best thing: do you want to be a stuntman for the star for a year? Yes! One day they did a fight scene, didn’t use me and the star got his hand smashed. Not long after that, I got very ill and so I came back to England” He’d only been back in England for a few weeks when he spotted his future wife, Gwen, from the top floor of a double decker. A prima ballerina, who trained at the famous White Lodge Royal Ballet School, Gwen danced at Sadler’s Wells and all over Europe under an assumed Russian name. For a few years they struggled to make ends meet, so Gwen (also an expert seamstress) made wedding dresses and tailored clothes which enabled them to save up £100 – enough for a deposit on a house. Bill started working in antiques and soon earned enough for them to sell their first house and move to a bigger one. They lived in Ashley Moor Hall (near Leominster) for 14 years and, when they sold up, moved to Castle Lodge instead. “It was advertised as offices,” Bill explains, “but it’s entirely private. It was an antiques shop when we first came to look at it and it could still be used for commercial purposes by the next owner. It was developed in Victorian times and there are bathrooms and a kitchen.” Gwen passed away some years ago and Bill is frank about wanting to sell up and move on. “It’s priceless really, I’ve had one fireplace alone valued at £1m and if you add it all up it comes to quite a bit, but I’ll sell the place for what I’m offered. I’m having it advertised all over the world but if anyone’s interested, it’s a place with something of a history,” he laughs. “There are 22 rooms, an outside courtyard, and I shall be very generous to whoever buys it.” Where will he go next? He shrugs. “I’ve got no idea, I don’t sort of plan anything but I’ve got to put it on the market now really. The address is Number One Ludlow, Castle Square – it’s been here for so long, it’s the number one address in town. It’s in pretty good shape though it would need a few thousands spent on it – new kitchens and something done with the windows. And the walls are three feet thick in places, so it’s very quiet in here. It’s as if you’re in the country and there’s no cows mooing. After
6pm at night, all you can hear is the blower in the electric fire.” It does strike me as odd, as I’m talking to Bill, that neither the National Trust nor English Heritage have shown any interest in Castle Lodge. “You’d have to give it to them,” Bill says with a shrug. “It’s being advertised, it’s up to them – I got offered £1m for it 20 years ago.” There’s no central heating in the building at the moment – Bill removed it as he was concerned about the effects it would have on the wood panelling. “It’d split it,” he says. “The last people here hadn’t bled the radiators and they were like miniature furnaces blowing hot air around … and all those hot copper pipes under the wooden floors too…” He shakes his head. As with many old buildings in Ludlow, there are rumours of ghosts. What are Bill’s thoughts on this? “It’s a private, wonderful thing and I won’t talk about it,” he says. “I’d be afraid they won’t visit anymore.” One thing he will admit to though is that his visitations are “...not sinister at all” before telling me of the phone ringing when it was actually disconnected. He laughs: “Have you got about two years to listen to me – I could do a whole library on this house?” As well as being custodian of Castle Lodge, Bill is also an artist. He has several interesting canvases on display in his private room. Beautiful and colourful abstracts, they’re quite something – he creates them using a secret method that combines photography and reflective light. “I’m an artist of light, painting with light as a photographer,” he says. He won’t be drawn on how he creates these rich images but inspiration came to him out of the blue and he’s been experimenting ever since. It’s been a treat to spend time chatting to Bill – he’s a real raconteur, full of funny and wonderful stories and his love for Castle Lodge comes across very strongly. Given that the Lodge is currently open to the public all year round, I do sincerely hope that whoever does buy the Lodge also keeps at least some public access. It would be a crying shame if this unique building was shut to the public forever. It’s a genuine national treasure and deserves to be revived and kept open. As I leave, I shake Bill’s hand and take a final look around the spectacular wood panelling in the rooms. If only walls could talk. Bill grins. “History has to be correct,” he says, “or it’s not history, it’s nothing but fairy tales.” Here’s hoping this one has a happy ending – for everyone’s sake.
ISSUE #12 55 Mill Street’s Nina Ludlow’s Brand X William Shakespeare in Ludlow? Getting real in the garden Long-haired deer of Mortimer Forest Rod Stewart’s Ferrari F50 Remembering Amanda Brisbane The correct crossword Kirsty Stephens’ Cicchetti Bar ludlowledger.com/archive
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ISSUE #13 Meet the Mortimers Driving to Ludlow from Dubai Youth Shropshire Ludlow’s Rose & Crown rises again The man behind the BBC mike: Robin Spicer Reviewed: Short sharp Hamlet The Doctor’s Mon Local artist: Edward Bell Parlour pub chat ludlowledger.com/archive
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– COVER STORY – < continued from the front page “Right,” says Brian as he finishes his drink, “I’d better go and get some kit on.” ... He disappears for five minutes or so before returning with various accoutrements including an embroidered apron, a Masonic collar (which looks a lot like a sash) and various jingly things that look rather like medals which, I learn later, are called jewels. Brian explains that he’ll be the Worshipful Master for just one year before handing over to his successor next March. There’s a strong sense of hierarchy in the Masons with defined steps towards progressing from first office up to the top. It can take the best part of a decade from joining to becoming a Worshipful Master of a Lodge but there’s no specific time period for it. “One of our problems is that we don’t have enough members,” says Robin. “It takes time to understand what it’s all about, what we’re all about and we always need new members.” It’s at this point that Robin introduces me to Barry who, Robin says with a straight face, has been “recycled.” Sadly this turns out to just mean Barry is holding an office that he’s held before. Brian explains. “It takes a while to go into a higher area, we don’t want members to be worried about things or not enjoying themselves, it’s a natural sense of progression.” Barry is also called the Hampshire Mason so I assume he moved up here recently but he’s been a member in Ludlow for 20 years. He did his ‘floorwork’, as he calls it, in Hampshire, obtained his mark and then brought it to Ludlow. Sadly I don’t have time to find out more about Barry’s floorwork (although it sounds like something he’d been awarded points for in gymnastics) as we’re on to the main event, a short presentation in the Temple itself. “What do we do with the ladies?” asks someone. “That’s a leading question,” guffaws someone else, before the handful of wives and partners of existing Masons, me and the potential new members are all sent down a rather narrow set of stairs. I can hear the jingling of the Masons’ jewels as they go down another set of stairs in this maze of a building and, as if by magic, they are in place and sat down by the time the rest of us step into the temple itself, a huge high ceilinged grand hall, painted a rather fetching pale blue (matching the sashes and aprons). There’s a black and white chequered floor and the walls have wooden boards with the names of previous Worshipful Masters inscribed in gold. It’s a beautiful room with various symbols and signs of eyes, pyramids, compasses of the drawing kind, and two old looking globes on posts. We take our seats and Jenny (next to me) shivers. “Ooh quick, shut the door, it’s such a cold building.” Robin is the Director of Ceremonies and there are Senior and Junior Wardens, Deacons and a Chaplain. The language is certainly reminiscent of Christianity but both religion and politics are banned from being discussed in any Lodge. It seems rather odd then that new members are only allowed in if they believe in a supreme being although, apparently, a Druid joined recently, a belief in the higher power of nature being enough to qualify him. Hampshire Barry takes to the stage, after removing his rather natty pale-blue cuffs, and talks about the bad image that freemasonry has struggled with. This is, he claims, mainly because of the legacy of World War II in which Hitler persecuted Masons and drove the movement underground. “Nobody spoke up about the Masons, nobody refuted the claims being made,” says Barry – slightly begging the question of why the Masons didn’t speak up more in the intervening decades since peace was declared. In more recent years, there’s been a clear move for the organisation to be seen to be more open, led by the leaders in the Grand Lodge, chief of whom is the Duke of Kent. There are 34 lodges in Shropshire with around 1,500 members and 300,000 members in England and Wales. Scotland and
Ireland have their own organisations. “We are not a secret society,” Barry declares, “and the idea that we would protect brethren who have committed a crime is certainly not true. Teaching, learning models and virtues are the basis of what we do. We raise a lot of money for charity, we run social activities and friendship is key too.” The famously secretive Masonic ceremonies are actually not as mysterious as they sound. Barry reveals that they are, in fact, based on medieval morality plays. “The idea is that the new candidate coming in is in character and put in situations which simulate real life,” he explains. In other words, role plays and theatre. It’s also where the famed rolled-up trouser leg comes from. In fact, both trouser legs are rolled up in one particular ceremony, in which poverty and hardship are represented. These playlets “deal with concerns like doubt, fear and worry, but without the problem of being real.” As for the secrecy around the Masons, Barry says “it’s not the actual secrets that matter but the keeping of them. If these secrets were key to money and success, don’t you think someone would have gone off and sold them by now?” He pauses for a moment. “No-one goes through the path of masonry without becoming a better man. Or lady.” With that, Barry returns to his chair (and minty cuffs) and it’s Robin’s turn. “The practices of social and moral virtue – before you all glaze over, they are the basis of what we do. It makes us better people.” He is also keen to stress again that the Masons are not a religious organisation. Nor are they a charitable organisation although they “do do charity in a big way.” Robin is very keen to emphasise the charitable work the Masons do,
both by “putting our hands into our pockets and giving to charity” and also by holding events to raise money too. “We’re the second biggest giver to charity after the National Lottery,” he says, proudly. Ian, who follows on from Robin, expands on this. The Masons raise an impressive £25-40,000 in Shropshire every year and one of their charitable acts is to pay for teddy bears to be given to every child admitted to A&E across the county. They’ve also offered to pay for ten ambulances fully equipped to take chemotherapy care out into rural areas “but the health authorities are not currently prepared to pay to maintain the service. We do an awful lot for charity but we don’t shout about it particularly.” Robin also talks about the origins of the organisation, from ancient Egypt (at the mention of which, some of the more enigmatic symbols which look rather like hieroglyphs begin to make a bit more sense) through to today. “You had to give proof of who you were and what skills you had. Hence the origin of the secrets. Knowledge was learned and passed on by word of mouth.” As part of the ceremonies, they use “what we’d now call teaching aids”, the symbols that are scattered around the room. “The square to remind us to act in a square and decent manner and the two points of the compass represent the limits of good and evil in which we live our lives.” Fellowship is also key to freemasonry, claims Robin. “What a Mason puts in, he will receive back in spades. Brother love is the cement that holds us together. But more than fellowship, more than charity, we aim to be men of the highest standards and the need for the morals we teach today are more important than ever. We all need boundaries and discipline.” Before we retire for a buffet supper
and, yes, to the bar, Mike, the newest member, stands up for a few words. “I never thought I’d be a Mason, I’m a ragged-arse musician and I consider myself to be a bit of a rebel. The world can be chaotic, confusing and here time stands still, rituals are unchanged and steeped in history and it’s fascinating. I’ve met people from so many different professions, taken part in lovely social events and I’ve met many a thirsty Mason at Ludlow Brewery,” he says with a grin. I can’t help but raise a smile when I spot a foot-tall, hand-knitted Mason complete with apron up on a shelf. Robin sees me grinning and laughs. “We don’t always take ourselves as seriously as everyone thinks.” He hands me and the prospective new members some print materials from Head Office. “I bet you’ve never read this,” he says to one of the existing Masons and he laughs, albeit somewhat guiltily. Upstairs, the dining room is another grand affair with long tables and various paraphernalia on the walls, including an old painting that looks rather Dali-esque with a disembodied hand holding a compass and a black and white chequerboard floor in perspective. It’s now become very informal after the talk and I end up chatting to Ian and a very sociable Mason called Paul about the future of the Masons. “We need that new lifeblood, but we’re also acutely aware of changing patterns in society, younger men have different pressures on their lives now.” And what about women? I know of the existence of a handful of female lodges but does Ian ever envisage a day when women might join Ludlow’s Lodge? “It’s always been kept separate and what is interesting is that ladies’ freemasonry seems to
have contracted; I don’t know why. We are living in more enlightened times but there doesn’t seem to be any great desire to admit women at the moment.” Ian informs me that in the early parts of the 1900s there were parades of Masons dressed in their regalia. “I’m glad we’ve become more open,” he says and tells me of a new university lodge in Telford where they “do things a bit differently. We’ve got to adapt, if we don’t we’ll die, we need to adapt to modern society.” At 9pm (21:00 hours), the Masons sing the National Anthem and toast the Queen and the Grand Master, the Duke of Kent. They also remember absent brethren, sing a traditional song (which, sadly, they didn’t demonstrate when I was there). They also say a little prayer for all poor and distressed Masons and raise another toast before the end of the evening is declared and we begin to make our way out of the Lodge. Hampshire Barry finds me and shakes my hand on his way out. “Come to the social occasions - even if you don’t join the Lodge,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. And what about Roger, one of the potential new recruits? “I really enjoyed it,” he says, smiling. “I’m not committing just yet though.” I walk back up the hill with Paul, chatting as we go. It seems to me that the Ludlow Masonic Lodge, at any rate, is an interesting mix of an old-fashioned gentleman’s club crossed with a bit of amateur dramatics and a love of socialising. “We’re just a stuffy old bunch of farts who like dressing up,” Paul giggles naughtily. There’s a lot more to it than that, of course, but still it makes me grin all the way home.
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– OBITUARY – – BACK COVER STORY – continued from the back page > tarmac. Patrick came off his bike once in a major crash that took about 16 riders out. “It was mainly bleeding and bruising,” he says, cheerfully. “I was okay, I just got patched up in the car but someone else was airlifted out. Accidents will always happen and, yes, the injuries can be pretty bad. With something like rugby, you can teach kids to be better and safer depending on technique. With racing, it can just be bad luck.” Jack confesses he crashed on his first ever road race but didn’t let it faze him. “Everyone had to do their first road race and, when you get better, you realise everyone is doing their own race anyway, like a time trial.” He confesses he once hit 60mph going downhill which prompts me to ask them if they’re both adrenaline junkies at heart. “Yes, definitely!” laughs Patrick. Jack thinks for a moment. ”I’ve got more concerned as I’ve got older. It’s not always the best rider who wins, that tactical element.” Patrick nods. “It just has to all go right on the day, good times...” Putting injuries to one side, the biggest problem that both Jack and Patrick face is money. Each race costs money to enter and, as Jack explains, racing isn’t necessarily about being the fastest or the strongest, it’s about tactics and experience. The only way to get better at races is, as with most things, to practice. Yet the costs add up. Races are around £20 a head or more and, with kit on top, it soon adds up. “It’s where most of my student loan goes,” Jack confesses. Yet, in other countries, racing is much cheaper, around 5 Euros a head in Belgium for example, meaning that budding cyclists can afford to take part in more races. It’s no coincidence that some of the best countries for cycling also have the cheapest races. “It’s hard to organise a race in Britain,” says Patrick, “there’s a lot of effort involved.” Patrick thinks the money issue is going to be an even bigger problem in the future. “It costs a fair amount
of money to get started and you’ll see fewer teenagers at club level.” When Jack did his first ever race, he was on a £300 second-hand bike and found himself racing against “guys on bikes that costs £10k or more.” It’s discouraging, but both Patrick and Jack also know that talent will out. “There’s a lot of money put into grassroots cycling but, after that, when you’re trying to compete, there’s very little out there.” Jack managed to get sponsorship directly from Ludlow Brewery with Gary Walters, co-founder of the brewery, being particularly supportive and Jack mentions them several times. It’s clear that not only was the financial support very welcome but the moral support is something Jack’s clearly very grateful for too. Although Jack’s main aim at the moment is to “keep getting better,” the result of the EU referendum might affect their future plans. Patrick’s vague plan after university was to move to Denmark for a year or so “but it’s going to be a lot harder, things aren’t as certain as they were.” Jack agrees. “Before, you’d get good enough and then live overseas in winter and ride for, say, a French team for a season. This will all make it harder. The racing scene abroad is simply better than racing in Britain.” In the short term at least though, the future is looking bright for Jack and Patrick. Halesowen is clearly pushing and encouraging them and both have strong support from their families too. They’re proud of Ludlow and seem a bit baffled that the area isn’t better celebrated for cyclists. “It’s slowly growing in Shropshire,” says Jack. “London’s heaving with cyclists whereas here, if you come for a weekend, you can go straight out on country lanes. It’s a pretty well-kept secret but then,” he grins, “we wouldn’t want it to be too rammed.” Having cycled in the area since he was as kid, Jack, ever the entrepreneur, is looking to offer guided tours to both visitors to the area and to locals who might need a bit of encouragement. “It’s great to show people how much you enjoy cycling and you always need to remember why you started in the first
place, to go exploring and to get to know a local area.” And if you’re reading this and think you too could be a budding racer, Patrick and Jack’s advice is to join a club. Ludlow Cycling Club is a popular one and there’s one in Hereford too. One of the older cyclists in Ludlow, Jack claims, rode in the Olympics in 1984. It’s worth remembering of course that there’s a big difference between cyclists who race and those who head out for a long ride for pleasure at the weekend. Competitive cycling is a whole different ball game. “Some people get pushed into it and then think I don’t want to do this anymore,” says Jack and Patrick nods in agreement. “It has to be something you enjoy. There are guys I rode with some years ago and some of them have gone on to do amazing things, others have just stopped entirely. Joining a club has to be the best thing, you’ll find other people who really enjoy it too for a start...” Jack ponders for a moment. “It is an art in a way, you need to be comfortable, you need to look good and fit the bike – ultimately, whether you’re into competitions or not, it’s got to be fun first otherwise where’s the enjoyment?” Funnily enough, some weeks after meeting Jack and Patrick, I find myself in possession of a somewhat rusty but rather marvellous secondhand mountain bike. Having not ridden on two wheels for the best part of a decade, I find myself freewheeling down the hill and giggling to myself. I’ll never be a racer but Jack’s words echo in my mind – “If you want to do well, you will benefit from it. You can keep getting better at it.” As I struggle to switch gears, I’m not sure about that, but if these two rising stars can get me out on a bike after all this time, I truly believe they can do anything. Watch out Olympics, here come Ludlow’s very own cycling wonders. If you’re interested in sponsoring Jack and Patrick or would like to follow their progress, you can follow @haccacademy on Twitter.
52 MILL STREET, LUDLOW www.blueboarludlow.co.uk
ISSUE #15 EDITORIAL DEADLINE
20th October 2016
ISSUE #15 AD DEADLINE
31st October 2016 ads@ludlowledger.co.uk
Page 10 and cover text} Liz Hyder | images} Ashleigh Cadet
12
Just a small selection of your kind emails, letters, postcards and social posts from Facebook and Twitter
What a great page, Clare: a definite source of future feature material – entertaining too – seeing Ludlow as it once was, including carnivals, school line ups, and opening of the swimming pool (below) by Mayor Sydney Price.
Letters to the Ledger We’d love to hear from you – editor@ludlowledger.co.uk
– VIEWS & COMMENTS – Following on from the letter you published in the last issue of Ludlow Ledger, I thought you’d be interested to learn that Lugg Valley Motors has taken note of what its passengers want on the 490 bus – the Ludlow to Leominster route – by introducing through buses between Ludlow and Hereford and through fares which will make travelling on this local service more attractive. From 5th September there is a direct bus from Ludlow to Hereford on Mondays to Fridays at 07:40, 09:20, 10:20 and 12:20. There’s no need to change buses at Leominster: The 490 forms the 492 bus from Leominster to Ludlow. Return bus times from Hereford are 08:45, 10:45, 13:45 and 15:45. The journey takes about 1 hour and 20 minutes to the centre of Hereford. On Saturdays there are two buses each way – between Ludlow and Hereford. Orleton and Luston have more through journeys to and from Hereford in this new timetable. The bus company will also be calling at the entrance to the Ludlow Touring Park more often, with buses into Ludlow at 10:07, 12:07, 15:07 – and return buses from Mill Street at 09:20, 10:20, 12:20, and 17:20. There is also now an opportunity for touring park visitors to travel into Leominster and Hereford, as the 15:45 bus back from Hereford also sets down at the Park on request at 17:07. Public meetings held by Rail & Bus for Herefordshire, with the 490 support group, also heard that many wanted a through fare rather than having to buy two tickets. The bus company is now to introduce new through fares and passengers need to check with the driver or by phoning Yeomans Motors on 01432 356201. Les Lumsdon, Ludlow -------------------------------------------------On a most enjoyable – Probus Club of Newport, Gwent – visit on Tuesday 19th April, I was asked by one of our members about the origin of the word Salop. How did this originate and is Shropshire the only county in the UK with two names? Perhaps a local historian can reveal the answer. Paul Beeden, Ludlow Is there a local historian out there that knows the answer to this one? -------------------------------------------------It was good to meet you in your office parlour pub ‘The Dog Hangs Well’ the other week, Jon, and to sample the delights of your fine establishment. I have since found an article on the legendary Ludlow singer May Bradley,
whom I believe would make for a great profile in Ludlow Ledger. I particularly like Fred Hamer’s tale of his first encounter with May, which follows: “I wandered thankfully into The Blue Boar in a cool side street, and, in self defence, handed my fiddle to the landlord behind the bar, as I ordered the beer so necessary to a Morris fiddler after a day on tour. I was on familiar ground, for I had spent long, hot, summer months in Ludlow on a harsh toughening course during the War, and had come to appreciate the hospitality and warm-heartedness of the people of this lovely country town, nestling comfortably below the keep of its guardian castle. The bar was empty, for I had crept away from the too numerous musicians in grateful obedience to the call of a friend I had not seen for years, so the men would not be along for a little while. At least, I thought it was empty, but I was startled and not a little glad that the fiddle was safely out of reach, for I heard a woman’s voice from the chair beside me, making the usual plea for a tune, and expressing the usual sympathy for a blind man. I took a long pull at my mug, sat back wearily, and suggested jokingly that the speaker should sing to me instead. Within a few seconds, I was petrified by her response. With her mouth but a few inches from my ear, she sang softly if a little harshly, but with the complete assurance of a practised performer, several verses of The Outlandish Knight.” Trevor Hewett, Ludlow Thank you for the additional information. I have since been sent a recording of May Bradley. Fascinating ... Expect a feature in due course. -------------------------------------------------I just thought I’d contact the Ludlow Ledger regarding a group that has been set up on Facebook called ‘Ludlow Shropshire Memories’, where lots of Ludlovians have been sharing photos from days gone by ... which I thought was an amazing treasure of local history that should be archived and collected. My family still live in Ludlow and, although I don’t I know that many people complain that ‘outsiders come in and take over’, yet here is a page documenting life in Ludlow in days gone by, by locals. I wondered if you’d be interested in covering the group in the paper along with some of the amazing photos? My mum said that recently you had written some really interesting articles on local history, which is why I thought of contacting you. Please do let me know your thoughts. Clare Jackson, Longridge, Preston
ACROSS 1 Victory by the French beast spans century 21 (8) 6 Turn red due to firm glare (6) 9 Mildred’s oddly not exhibiting on this day of the month (4) 10 Eg Hoover dirt seen spread at side of car park (9) 11 People play with ice toys (7) 12 Secretary first to expose 21 medium (7) 13 Ford model’s hot – behold 21 (5) 14 Animal managed to drink two hundred glasses (7) 17,19 Second brew never yeasty for a long time (7,5) 22 Attraction at heart of England’s second city (7) 24 Mike remains in rank and file (7) 26 Secure special constable’s copy of portrait? No, the opposite! (9)
27 21’s bed exposed lowest point, briefly (4) 28 Blake’s cherished piece of 21 (6) 29 Take care of Tate revamp and don’t mess (6,2) DOWN 2 No love for bright blue in town (6) 3 Gallery in rough state after mice beginning to chew (9) 4 Like sibling’s son getting up behind time to secure work before noon (7) 5 Black ball, blue and orange finally make 21 (4) 6 Artist supports strike – fancy! (7) 7 Abstain from work as union
Town “Ludlow xtremely se Council i nted that disappoi Council re Shropshi otect these r did not p c oak trees two iconi e the view that fram sh Church ri of the Pa rence from of St. Lau liffe...” Whitc
succumbs to insolence (3,2) 8 Uncle Steve regularly takes car across moon – on the far side (8) 15 West Indian Rabbi out to stop cane punishment (9) 16 Erase all recollection of drinks (4,4) 18 Poultry worker’s note right about Muscovy (7) 20 Small amount of cadmium? (7) 21 Cunning first for exhibitionist? (6) 23 One lost in city with 21 (5) 25 Pop art initially a movement (4) ---------------------------------------------Answers to previous issue’s crossword can be found on the back page. Summer turning to seasonal mists, and the beautiful autumnal changes are – in the Town Council’s mind – even more poignant this year, as it brings to mind the distressing news of the iconic oak trees on Whitcliffe that are to be felled. Ludlow Town Council is extremely disappointed that Shropshire Council did not protect these two iconic oak trees that frame the view of the Parish Church of St. Laurence from Whitcliffe; the decision to allow the oak trees to be felled sets a damaging precedent that values the right to a clear view too highly. Councillors strongly disagreed with the decision because the deciduous trees enhance the changing character of the view throughout the year. The trees are enjoyed by the public and, just by walking a short distance in either direction from the trees, you get an unobscured view of Ludlow. Ludlow Town Council supports the work of the Friends of Whitcliffe Common, and understands that the trees on the common need to be managed but, in the case of these two oaks, it strongly believes that felling is not the answer. Cllr Glenn Ginger, Ludlow Council
13
Change
The changing tides text} Simon Pease
– OBSERVATIONS – I’ve always struggled to get to grips with the way some people react to change. I can understand anyone who resists a change which they see as a change for the worse, but some people seem to resist change for the sake of it. So when I heard the man in the middle of the audience, his arms firmly folded across his chest say: “Well I don’t know, this isn’t the organisation I joined 30 years ago”, what I wanted to hear someone say was: “wouldn’t it be rather odd if it was?” They didn’t of course, and no doubt the man in question left believing he had made an important point. It has always seemed to me that change is a pretty fundamental part of life. In fact there is a good case for saying that change is one of the defining characteristics of life. I can’t think of a living thing that doesn’t change, and those things I can think of which don’t appear to change, the moon for example, seem to be rather good examples of things which are, well, frankly, dead. A lot of the things we enjoy the most are dependent on change. Whether it is the perfect ripening of a piece of fruit, the pleasant mellowing of a good red wine, or the progression of a story or piece of music, it is change that gives interest, character and even fulfilment. Even a written story can change. Ever gone back and reread something you enjoyed a few, or better many years ago? In my experience there is nearly always something I’ve misremembered, or something that I didn’t notice first time around. Take this town, for example. It wears the changes that have made it what it is now for all of us to see, if we care to look. The buildings tell the story of the place, the way life has flowed through the town in different periods of history, the way it has grown out from a mediaeval core to an early twenty-first century spread. A quick comparison between my 1962 OS map of the area (inch to a mile, sheet 129) and the 2011 Landranger series map, shows the way the town has grown, filled in and spread outward. Walking around tracing those changes gives a sense of past life in the place – different people will prefer some periods to others but, in every case, you can be sure that someone at the time complained about the changes and what ‘modern life’ was doing to the town. If you could stop change at any point when would you stop it ... when Britain was at its greatest in the post war years or during the Sixties (go ahead, let’s have them perpetually)? Perhaps you really think the place was in its heyday in the Regency period. It may be interesting for a while but it would begin to pall rather quickly – particularly when you think about the things that you wouldn’t have, such as advances in medical science; the resurgence of the small independent breweries gets my vote. Change, both good and the bad, is life. We can resist changes we don’t like and try to influence the way things, including the town, develop, but stopping still isn’t an option, and there are plenty of times when change brings unexpected benefits. So I’ll drink to it, preferably with a craft-brewed IPA from a new microbrewery.
Gardening
Flying the flag for a natural diet text} Nicki Lewis-Smith | image} Steve Slater
– GARDENING – What I remember about feeding the birds a few hundred years ago, when I was no more than a fledgling myself, was my mother lovingly threading unshelled peanuts on to a string, and then hanging them in strategic places outside. And of my father, sawing a coconut in half, wasting the milk (which would have annoyed my mother) and then drilling a hole in the shell so that it could be suspended alongside the peanut necklaces. And then there’s the now historic image of blue tits pecking at the top of milk bottles to get at the cream. How did they know to do that? Surely ‘gold top’ cream was never a part of their natural diet? A rather bizarre image has sprung to mind of a family of tiny birds hanging on to a cow’s udder. It’s a long time since I’ve seen a doorstep with a couple of bottles of milk on it complete with upturned egg cups to keep the tits off. I don’t think that they’d bother now anyway – have you seen the gourmet
selection of bird food available? Even our supermarkets now stock a dazzling assortment from seeds to suet, and mealworms to what, to me, looks like muesli. On a recent visit to a large garden centre, I noticed that fat balls are available multi-pack or bulk buy, alongside peanuts, sunflower and niger seeds plus ‘live’ food. Eek! And then don’t forget the various feeders – squirrel proof, rain proof, human proof, round, square and some even cunningly disguised at something else. Have you seen the little birdhouse not so cunningly disguised as a cat? The way in? You guessed it – a wide-open feline mouth… Now that’s downright cruel. You may be wondering what place gold top milk bottles have in a column loosely described under the heading of ‘gardening’. Well, everything really (not necessarily the milk) but the birds, yes. We are now feeding the birds all year round, not just during the depths of winter. So are they homing in on
these seductive feeders as opposed to the juicy greenfly on your roses? And what about the seed heads in our gardens ... are we cutting them off too soon so that the birds don’t bother to even look for them and are just heading for the bird table instead? The tit family tend to take turns when feeding, so a good pest solution is to hang the feeder close to a bountiful supply of aphids and, while Mrs blue tit is waiting her turn, she can have an aperitif of greenfly. Bird feeders definitely do have a place in our gardens and, if situated for the benefit of our plants, you’ll be reaching less for the anti-blackfly spray and more for that bag of birdseed in aisle 9 of your local supermarket. You’ll know where it is – it’s next to the cat food... ------------------------------------------------Nicki Lewis-Smith is an award winning garden designer and consultant, based here in Ludlow: (check Nicki’s advertisement on page 8 of this issue).
Editor-in-chief Jon Saxon Sub editor Sally Newman-Kidd Photographers Ashleigh Cadet, Steve Slater, Andy Staples, Zarni Woop, Richard Stanton Authors Liz Hyder, Simon Pease, Nicki Lewis-Smith, Chris Crowcroft, Prue Britten, Patrick Dunachi Crossword John Jarvis Cartoon Roger Penwill –––––––––– Publisher Son of Saxon 14 Corve Street, Ludlow, SY8 1DA 01584 872381 www.ludlowledger.co.uk jon@sonofsaxon.co.uk –––––––––– Printer The Guardian Print Centre Media Park, Longbridge Road, Parkway Estate, Manchester, M17 1SN Paper 100% recycled 52gsm 76ISO improved Berliner newsprint –––––––––– Online Website: www.ludlowledger.co.uk Twitter: @ludlowledger –––––––––– Advertising There are a number of different ways to explore advertising in Ludlow Ledger: Download ludlowledger.com/advertise Email ads@ludlowledger.co.uk or Phone 01584 872381 Office Discuss advertising in person at 14 Corve Street, Ludlow, SY8 1DA –––––––––– Legal All rights reserved. No part of Ludlow Ledger may be copied or reproduced, in whole or in part, without the strict written permission of the publisher
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Letters page image} Mayor Sidney Price: ‘Ludlow Shropshire Memories’ Facebook page; Whitcliffe trees: Zarni Woop
14
Fire, Burn!
Ludlow-inspired Palmer returns text} Chris Crowcroft – LITERATURE – FIRE, BURN! is the second case for 1600s investigator Richard Palmer, employed whenever the playhouse and politics collide. By Ludlow author Chris Crowcroft, it follows Palmer’s debut case, Shakespeare in Trouble (Aesop Modern 2015). -------------------------------------------------It is 1605. Chief Minister Lord Salisbury, Robert Cecil as was, is hearing rumours from his spy network that religious extremists are planning something big, but not who or when. Palmer is called in to infiltrate the insurgent network, including its underground Jesuit priests led by Fr. Henry Garnet; and a playwright who has converted to the old faith and is keeping dangerous company – Ben Jonson. ... Salisbury suspects – and wants – big names implicated. But the truth will be different. Scrupulously based on fact, Richard Palmer (named after the guild which rebuilt St. Laurence’s Church, Ludlow) is the only fictional character. -------------------------------------------------The garden was placid, airless, suffocated by the heat of summer. It was a little Eden, one about to be shattered by what the younger Jesuit priest, Tesimond, had to say. His Superior’s reaction was incredulous. “Blow the King up when he opens Parliament! Has Robin Catesby lost his mind?” The flames of hellfire roared in Garnet’s ears and burned his scorching cheeks. It was beyond his wildest fears. Yes, Catesby was planning something, that much he knew, but this, to assassinate the King. The revelation robbed Garnet of what little breath the stifling heat allowed. The sweat which began to soak the chemise of the older man had nothing to do with the temperature of the day. He repeated in disbelief what Tesimond had told him as if it was a horrible fantasy. “Blow the King up?” His mind raced over all that would be put at risk by such lunacy – his years of underground ministry which had comforted the faithful and brought back thousands to the Catholic flock; the possibility for a new tolerance of the faith by the State under a new monarch….. “Words, just words”, was what Catesby reckoned about King James’s hazy promises to English Catholics. Catesby wanted more, much more. A collision was on course if both sides weren’t careful, in Garnet’s fearful opinion. It was everything the priest had worked to avoid. “What can we do?” he heard himself say to Tesimond. He was past knowing. This huge leap, from disobedience to terror, defeated his skill to respond to it. Men had been recruited, work was underway? Did he hear right what Tesimond was telling him, that they were hoping to wipe out the entire Government in the blast? And that others might die too, moderates, good Catholics some of them, simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Garnet thrust the palm of his hand angrily against his forehead. “It’s no more than Papal policy,” Tesimond said, careful to report it as Catesby’s claim, “the policy which brought us Jesuit fathers back into England in the first place, to bring England back to the true faith. Elizabeth was no legitimate ruler, nor is her Protestant successor James.....” ......for all that the King’s martyred mother Mary had been a devout Catholic.
Garnet sighed. The policy was old, there was a new Holy Father, who knew what he thought? His body and mind ached for retirement. Shocks such as this affected him physically these days - the sweating and the queasiness, the inability to think clearly. He was getting too old for it. Past fears, of capture, trial and horrible execution began to resurface in his mind along with the old question – would he have the courage to endure them? And what did Tesimond expect from him? Was he on the side of the angry young men too? He was suddenly aware of the heat in the garden. He wanted the cool, he wanted sanctuary. “We should contact Rome,” Tesimond said. “Yes,” Garnet agreed, clutching at straws, “I really believe we must”. -------------------------------------------------The room where Salisbury sat, head bent over piles of papers was familiar to Palmer. So was its occupant, yet changed too. What surprised Palmer were the depth of the lines on the politician’s face and the grey hair infiltrating his hair and beard. Power aged some men as much as poverty did others, he reminded himself. The question Salisbury put to him almost threw him off guard. “You come from a Catholic family, I believe, and a recusant one too?” Palmer’s brain screamed caution. ‘Catholic……recusant,’ these were dangerous labels to admit to. “My father….” Palmer began by way of excuse. Salisbury forestalled him. “It could prove very useful.......in the coming times”. “Are difficulties expected?” Palmer asked. Salisbury gave him a look of faint amusement. “There are always difficulties.” Palmer waited patiently. Salisbury spoke. “A minority of Catholics has never accepted our secession from Rome. Most of these accept the disadvantages which follow. Those disadvantages have gone up or down according to the political climate, would you not say?” Palmer shrugged. In the case of the Palmer family, ‘disadvantage’ had meant total expropriation. Monthly fines were more than the average man earned in years. “His Majesty at first intended a more relaxed approach to Catholic concerns,” Salisbury went on. “Perhaps this gave them too much hope.” What the King offered was words, not change, both men knew. “We are hearing worrying reports from our people on the continent, from Brussels in particular. We are not sure what is going on. Our fear is conspiracy.” “Catholic conspiracy?” Palmer cut in. Salisbury gave him a long, hard look. “Of course”, he said at last. “How can I…… help?” “I may need you – not just yet, I will decide when – to penetrate the Jesuit underground.” Salisbury looked keenly over at Palmer. Palmer gave a nod of acceptance. “There is a writer we are not sure about,” Salisbury said, as if it was a last, less important thought, “a Catholic convert and a recusant, a convicted killer….” Palmer raised an eyebrow. “……Ben Jonson – do you know him? No? Ben Jonson has form, he has spent time in prison over one of his plays – ‘conspiracy against the
Emperor’ type of plot, so easy to send the wrong message if you are not careful....... and care is not Jonson’s style.” ....... “Is he a serious suspect?” “I do hope not – he has been trying to secure my patronage. I would be embarrassed if he was planning regicide.......” -------------------------------------------------“No, no, no!” ... Robin Catesby was adamant. Garnet tackled him again. “I am not asking you to take my word or to accept my guidance alone, but you must consider what I have now heard from Rome”. Garnet brandished a letter. Catesby waved the dangerous document aside. Putting things in writing – had no-one learned? ... Garnet persisted. “It insists that you must inform our Holy Father of your scheme before you carry it out. There is no scope for individual action, Robin.” Catesby had difficulty in suppressing his old anger. It was all so typical that when action was called for, men of words prevaricated. Well, the priests in the Temple were not going to block God’s will this time if he had anything to do with it. “If His Holiness knew what we are planning, he would welcome it.” “That is for him to say. Robin, you know that I cannot break the seal of your confession. So it must be you who tells Rome what you intend to do”. Catesby gave the Jesuit a withering look. ... “That would be madness, it would be asking to be caught. Have we learned nothing from all the previous attempts? Involve as few people as possible, put nothing in writing…… and now you want to offer up a hostage to fortune by doing exactly that, putting it in writing, running the gauntlet of Salisbury’s spies at home and abroad. I won’t do it!” “Then we must send a messenger.” He gave a name, someone he knew Catesby would trust, a man of his own generation. Catesby bit back his first reaction, to oppose the proposal. A second voice told him differently, that such a man might be encouraged to start late and ‘hurry slowly’ as the ancients put it. He
could use a delay in which he could act uncontradicted by Garnet, and unconfined. “All right”, he agreed. “So we send the messenger and wait for the reply,” Garnet confirmed. “We send the messenger, yes,” said Catesby, choosing his words. -------------------------------------------------Palmer set himself to watch the comings and goings at the Mermaid tavern in the early evening. At last he saw a short, burly man approach … a bruiser. It was Ben Jonson, he hoped. He followed him in at a distance, saw him spoken to by the landlord, scratch his head and then laugh at the promise of a free dinner. Palmer approached the pair of them. “Ah, Mr er....... ” the landlord greeted him, “we were just talking about you.” “Mr Henry,” Palmer said, “William Henry.” It was one of a number of aliases he used. Jonson gripped Palmer strongly by the hand with a paw which Palmer could feel had wielded more than a pen in its time. “I hear you are a bookseller from Canterbury. So what’s selling at the moment among the country philistines?” Palmer allowed himself a smile at the jibe. “Not much in your line, we do better with works of religious commentary,” Palmer said. “Any call for our friend Shakespeare?” Jonson interrupted, just a hint of rivalry in his tone. “Some. His Venus, his Lucrece.......” God knows, he’d never read them but he had reason to know the names. “Yes, and I can see why,” Jonson smiled,” but I’m not sure that the classical epic was ever Will’s strength. Don’t get me wrong, I worship the man – this side of idolatry – but his classical education is, let’s be honest about it, not his strongest point. His Latin is, well, pedestrian, and as for his Greek.......” Palmer shared the joke with another pale smile. He was saved by the return of the landlord announcing that their
private room was ready. The call of food and drink in a private room he guessed would suppress Jonson’s inquisitiveness for the time being. They found the table cluttered not only with pewter-ware but glass as well, warning Palmer of an expensive bill. As they sat down to eat, Palmer saw familiar, ancient words of a Catholic grace form silently on Jonson’s lips. He completed them himself out loud, words which had not passed his lips since his days in his father’s house. Jonson looked cautiously around him. There were no witnesses to report what had been said. “You are taking a risk, Mr Henry. I could be an informer. Or maybe that’s what you are?” Palmer did his best to look shocked. “What would a provincial bookseller be doing in London in plague-time?” Jonson asked, ignoring the food for the moment. “I get better prices from the publishers when their market’s struggling,” Palmer replied, “so my profits are bigger back in Canterbury.” “Oh you.......shopkeeper!” Jonson roared. ... For the rest of the meal, both men kept the conversation within the bounds of polite exchange and masculine gossip. At the end, when Palmer stood up to find the landlord and settle the account, Jonson detained him with a hand on his sleeve. “There are other friends, more of our mind whom you might like to meet. Brought together by a Mr Robin Catesby.......” Palmer’s ears pricked up. “.......gentlemen all. I’ll let you know.” -------------------------------------------------FIRE,BURN! (published September 2016 by Aesop Modern) is available, priced £8.99, from Ludlow’s Castle Bookshop and St. Laurence’s bookshop, as well as on Amazon. The Kindle version is available priced £4.99 from www.aesopbooks.com
15
Much Ado About Nothing
Lording it text} Prue Britten – ENTERTAINMENT –
SPOTTED – ‘Enjoy the Riches of Britain’ poster, published in 1932 by Eastern National Omnibus Co.
Until 1661, a law forbade women from working on stage, which meant that all Shakespeare’s female role were written for, and played by, boys. For the most part these were prepubescent boys with un-broken voices, aged between 11 and 20 (poor diet meant that puberty arrived later than it does now in the twenty-first century). The Lord Chamberlain’s Men present open–air theatre with an allmale cast. Before the start of the play at least one person in the audience was unaware of this and, when enlightened, commented ‘What a pity’ – why was unclear. According to Peter Stickney – the new Artistic Director of The Lord Chamberlain’s Men – ‘Authenticity, Excellence and Magic’ are the watchwords for this company’s future. With this production of Much Ado… they were successful on all counts. The authenticity was neither preachy nor artificial but presented with admirable clarity and understanding. The simple set and lighting (when needed) worked really well and the Costume Designer and Maker (Polly Laurence and Katherine Newby respectively) deserve recognition, not only for the design and execution of the practical, charming masks but for the realisation of authentic costumes which enabled changes at the drop of a hat. Shakespeare’s play consists of some 18 named characters, played here by seven men – in some cases an actor had four roles. The actors are masters of the quick change – not only costumes, but gender, elocution, demeanour, accent, deportment and age were changed, and the audience was in no danger of misunderstanding which character was on stage. Oliver Buckner’s gangly, opinionated and feisty Beatrice brought to mind a school lacrosse captain of years gone by – she
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definitely took no prisoners. The sparring with Benedick (Jordan Bernarde) was a treat and Shakespeare’s lines were given fresh purpose in the mouths of these two talented performers. Buckner also played George Seacole, a member of The Watch, and was unrecognisable in every respect. As Benedick, Bernade was a raging fire with ambitions to be a cosy stove. Initially the Welsh accent and noisy inhalation were irritants but these evolved into delightful character traits. Here is a man who realises, almost too late, that his disdain of Beatrice, and hers of him, can only end one way and the transformation of Benedick into the love-struck suitor was accomplished with a good balance of gentleness, bluff and tact. Bernarde also played Verges and gave another remarkable adaptation. Jon Tozzi (Hero/ Borachio/John Glover/Messenger) had a very busy evening. His image and movement as the virtuous Hero was exceptional: the lowered eyes, the shy smile showing no teeth and the gently folded hands were the marks of a young Italian noblewoman who knows both her station in life and others’ expectations of her. Tozzi’s dark look also fitted well for Borachio, the villainous Don John’s (James Lavender) sidekick, and he appeared to relish being dragged around on a rope. Nathan Coenen played Claudio with total integrity and no hint of twenty-first century cynicism, ably avoiding the pitfalls in the ‘love at second sight’ scene. His belief in Hero’s disloyalty, followed by utter misery and anger, were manifest, making the discovery of Hero alive and well all the more joyful. There was no weak link in the company. Each player revelled in his role(s) whilst the ensemble playing was well-paced, intelligible and spontaneous with an immediacy in the performance that belied the fact that they have performed for hundreds of people in dozens of venues. The playful exploration of gender was magical and totally in keeping with The Bard’s intentions. At the end of the TLCM’s performance the afore-mentioned gentleman in the audience commented, with some surprise: ‘That was jolly good!’ It was indeed.
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Cycling
Future champions in the frame text} Liz Hyder | images} Ashleigh Cadet
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If you’re still making your way through the last issue’s crossword then you had better look away now – SPORT – If you’ve ever been for a walk in the Shropshire Hills and witnessed some lycra-suited figures whizz past you in a blur on their bikes, you may have already come across talented cyclists Jack Stanton-Warren and Patrick Fotheringham. If you haven’t, allow me to introduce them – you might want to remember their names as they’re being hotly tipped as race champions of the future by those in the know. I meet the sporty duo, good friends on and off the roads and track, for a coffee at the Assembly Rooms, where they’re lounging in the chairs by the window like extras from Brideshead Revisited. It’s fair to say not only are they annoyingly talented but they’re also delightful company and genuinely inspiring. Between the two of them, they’re probably cycled every road in South Shropshire – they’re particularly fond of cycling to Hay-onWye and not just, they claim, for the “cakes to die for” from The Granary. The pair, both Ludlow lads, are members of the prestigious Halesowen club, a leading cycling club that has a long history of producing top-level talent with Olympic and Paralympic stars – Jess Varnish and Helen Scott both graduated from the club. Patrick and
Jack are two of just eight academy members at the club, a recent initiative that aims to help talented young cyclists make the leap to being professional, and is already attracting sponsorship from companies like Wenlock Spring. 18-year-old Patrick has lived in Ludlow since he was five years old and comes from excellent sporty stock. His father, William Fotheringham, is a sports writer for The Guardian as well as a talented cyclist in his own right. Having been cycling since he was ten and having a passion for all things sports, Patrick decided to “stick to cycling” when he was 13 and has been riding competitively ever since. Jack, just two years older, snorts with laughter and says he’s “the polar opposite”. He only started cycling seriously in his second year of college, when he was 17½ – although, to be fair, if you can name a sport, Jack’s probably tried it. From football and tennis to skateboarding, he’s given most things a go but he does admit to a strong streak of competitiveness. “I wanted something I could get better at, I did a couple of races and got back into fitness sports and did some more riding – on a really rubbish bike.” He grins. “It was really small and fitted me when I was 13. Dad bought me a better bike, a good second-hand one,
I did some club rides and decided I’d stick to it.” The two became pals after meeting through the sport, but Patrick cycles to race and Jack enjoys longer rides more. “I prefer racing,” says Patrick, “it’s what I enjoy more and there’s an element of – it’s hard to explain, but – at the end of the race when you can’t give any more, that feeling it gives me...” Jack grins and shakes his head. “The longer, the harder, the hillier, as long as I’ve done the training, I like at least three hours with some bumps in,” he says. Patrick laughs. “I prefer flatter and faster ones, technical courses with corners, it’s more interesting and the faster with corners, the better. I’ll do longer rides but I prefer to do an hour and a half or so.” Both are improving at a rate of knots and Jack is regularly winning and coming in the top three in races. Recently, he came a very respectable third in the North West regional championship, beaten by someone who, on the day I meet them, has just come second in a national time trial. Patrick recently won two regional races too and both are out training every weekend. Road racing can be a dangerous game too. Both Jack and Patrick have had various injuries, with Jack once breaking an elbow after skidding on
< Continued on page 11
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All being well ... Sir Job Charlton Dambuster remembered Woodpecker Rally – November / December – www.ludlowledger.co.uk
CROSSWORD CLUES #13
See page 12 for this issue’s crossword
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The doors of Ludlow’s Masonic Lodge swing open for Ludlow Ledger’s Liz Hyder – ?????? – www.ludlowledger.co.uk