ISSUE 19 – APRIL / MAY 2018 – FREE
Ludlow Boxing Club Discovering Whitcliffe Reeds Plus Chasing Catherine Ludlow childhood: 1942-1957 Ludlow Brewery brews 1885 India Pale Reviewed: The Bear & Ludlow Male Voice Choir Robin Spicer in goals
“I wouldn’t say ‘bring a bus load of pensioners in’ but then, having said that, a lot of retired people these days are incredibly fit. If someone is keen, come down and have a go.” WHATEVER image you might have of a boxing club – a smoky ring perhaps, tough men fighting it out with big red gloves under glaring spotlights – put it out of your mind if you visit Ludlow’s very own Boxing Club. Situated up on Wheeler Road, the club is a bright and modern white space with a sparkling blue carpet and a ropedoff ring in one corner. When I turn up on the club’s regular Monday night opening, I’m faced with about two dozen energetic people – ranging from eight-year-olds to middle-aged folk – skipping and stretching together. The energy in the room is palpable.
Oli Francis, one of four coaches who volunteer at the club (which is also a registered charity), greets me and immediately confesses he’s hurt his back. It doesn’t seem to affect his good humour though as he talks to me about his passion and enthusiasm for the club. At the moment their membership is fairly steady and they’re actively on the lookout for more local members; some of their younger members travel from as far afield as Bromyard to train, but it seems much of Ludlow isn’t even aware that the club is there. “We want more members, of course we do. All kids should be
given the opportunity to do it and we encourage everyone to give it a go. The first session is free to anyone and everyone – come along, have a look at it and see if it’s for you,” Oli says. Whilst some of their members come along purely for fitness, some want to learn how to compete. The warm-up, which everyone from the youngest to the oldest takes part in, looks pretty tough. Squat thrusts, sit ups, running around the room, skipping, push-ups in plank position, and all for a solid hour before they move on to further activities which may include “body weight exercises, aerobics, bag work and pad work and technique,” says Oli.
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It’s unusual and, frankly, refreshing to see such a wide age range in a single room working alongside each other, and Oli thinks it’s a key part of what makes the club special. “Tiny little kids, everyone joins in, socially it’s really good. How we run the sessions is that we all warm up as a group, exercise all together and then we go on to training for both separately.” Nick, who leads the warm-up as Oli and I chat on the side-lines, is a hard taskmaster and three young women are doing some tough core exercises as some other members work on the punch bags.
Continued on page 8 >
Dr Matthew Faull BSc MSc DClinPsy
Chartered Clinical Psychologist Psychodynamic Psychotherapist
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CONTENTS
4 Ludlow to Vienna: Chasing Catherine ENVIRONMENT 5 Nature and the next generation: discovering Whitcliffe MY STORY 5 Living in Ludlow: 1942 to 1957 NEIGHBOURS 6 Herefordshire hops captured on film COVER STORY ... CONTINUED 8-9 Wheeler Road’s greatest combination: Ludlow Boxing Club CROSSWORD & LETTERS 10 5 down: Young lady crosses island glen oddly and messes up (11) BREWING 11 Faithfully-recreated Victorian beer, exclusive for Ludlow INTERNATIONAL 11 German shooting club flag returned LITERATURE 12 Third in the 1600s Palmer Investgates series PROFILE 13 Reeds Plus: town’s music shop with a bit of dry cleaning on the side REMEMBERED 14 Life of Douglas Albert Taylor: Guinness, grenades, and a carried cart horse REVIEWS 15 The Bear and Ludlow Male Voice Choir SPORT 16 OBSERVATIONS
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Robin Spicer in goals
Editor’s notes, hello again PLENTY has happened since the last issue of the Ledger – which is no real surprise really, considering the long void of months between this and the last issue, following an unsure slog to determine the best way forward for this local paper, to essentially keep the doors open (more frequently) without being so beholden to the dreaded bottom line. This has, to some extent, been helped along by the slightly begrudged return to tabloid (the dimensions employed for the first three issues, before adopting the Berliner format). Beyond the printing press pressures, we have a fully-fledged petrol station on Coronation Avenue; a proposal to build 68 chalets on Juniper Hill in the heart of the Mortimer Forest; and an opportunity to buy The Feathers Hotel at a guide price of £2.6million (which includes four retail shops, so reads the particulars) or £2million for the hotel alone, with 40 en-suite rooms, three bars, function room
and a number of first-floor rooms of historic interest – including one for private dining. Surely, in the right hands (goodness knows what they look like), Ludlow’s most photographed building could become the flagship of food, drink, and accommodation. Also on the move is (what appears to be) every business on Corve Street: both Sweet News and the shoe shop at the top of the street have gone; an ‘UNDER OFFER’ sign hangs above Ludlow Interiors at 148; 141A recently emptied of its antique business; and ‘TO LET’ signs are in the windows of Swifts Bakery, with an application to switch from Retail to A2 financial. At the same time three town pubs (The Dog Hangs Well, Artisan Ales and The Rose & Crown), along with Ludlow Brewery, featured in the article ‘Finding Ludlow’ in the national CAMRA magazine Beer. They said of Artisan Ales: “Gary’s clearly very much the key to the success of
the pub. It’s been said a thousand times before – it’s the people that make pubs.” And of The Rose & Crown: “It probably has one of the most charming entrances for a pub in Ludlow, if not all of Shropshire.” And The Dog Hangs Well: “If you think the pub’s name is unusual, then the interior of this two-room wonder soon eclipses that.” In the same month The Dog Hangs Well was awarded 2018 CAMRA Pub of Season. It is not the first time that Ludlow has achieved recognition from the Shrewsbury and West Shropshire sect of CAMRA: in 2005 they awarded The Church Inn overall Pub of the Year and, in 2014, Market Town Pub of the Year went in the direction of The Queens.
Cheers, Jon Saxon editor@ludlowledger.co.uk Office – 01584 872381 Mobile – 07795 244060
Print} Trinity Mirror, Birmingham | Editor image}: Richard Stanton | Letterpress printed masthead} Dulcie Fulton: mostlyflat.co.uk
Stockists LUDLOW 55 Mill Street Ludlow Aragon’s Café Church St Artisan Ales Old St Assembly Rooms Mill St Baker’s Café Tower St Bentley’s Castle Square Bindery Shop Bull Ring Blue Boar Mill Street Carters of Ludlow Coder Road Castle Bookshop Market Square Castle Lodge Buttery Castle Sq 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 Crumbs Tower St Dinham Hall Hotel Dinham Fish House Bull Ring Green Café Dinham Harp Lane Deli Church St Homecare Temeside La Jewellery Parkway Mews Leisure Centre Bromfield Rd Ludlow Castle Castle Square Ludlow Brewing Co Station Dr Ludlow Ledger 14 Corve St Ludlow Stoves Gravel Rd Ludlow Touring Park Ludford Ludlow Train Station Station Dr Mascall Centre Lower Galdeford Mod Lang Woodyard (Corve St) Morris Buftons Gravel Hill Myriad Organics Corve St Olive Branch Bull Ring Pea Green Café Lower Galdeford P. Hadley’s Bookshop Corve St 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 St Laurence’s College St Swifts Bakery Corve St Tiger Lilly Bull Ring Tourist Information Mill St Vaughan’s King St V Café New Rd Woodyard Gallery Woodyard -----------------------------------------FURTHER A FIELD Aardvark Books Brampton Bryan Apple Tree Onibury Brightwells Auction Leominster Cleobury Café Cleobury Community Shop Aston-on-Clun Community Centre Craven Arms Country Centre Cleobury Courtyard Antiques Presteigne Crusty Cob Cleobury Mortimer Discovery Centre Craven Arms Fiddler’s Elbow Leintwardine Fish Bar Cleobury Golden Cross Clee Hill Market Hall Cleobury Mortimer Stores Wigmore Nelson Inn Rocks Green Old Downton Lodge Downton Overton Grange Overton Rd Plough Inn Wistanstow Roebuck (pub & shop) Brimfield Simply Fresh Cleobury Tourist Information Tenbury Village Hall Ashford Carbonell Village Shop Lydbury North ----------------------------------------Become a stockist – in or outside Ludlow – express your interest via: editor@ludlowledger.co.uk.
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washed down with sherry. The beer, alas… Having done what tourists do, we came home, showed friends and family the photos, enthused (and maybe bored them) and moved on, filing the visit in our memories. Last year an unexpected opportunity came up to visit Vienna, a city I have visited often, spending two or three weeks at a time for work. I like the place – it has history, beautiful architecture, more than one world-class art museum and, of course, cafés (though many of them are more like wine bars than what we think of as cafés). As part of the visit we went to the art museum to see paintings that I particularly wanted to look at again. We were on our way out of the gallery, walking past paintings we had no time to view, when my eye was caught by a small, but beautifully painted portrait of a young woman. I hadn’t seen it before, but something made me go and look. The caption called it a picture of an unknown saint, but went on to explain that it was probably a portrait of Catherine of Aragon, by the artist Michael Sittow. It drew attention to the collar the young woman wore,
which included Tudor roses. My wife, who is a better historian than me, confirmed the woman’s colouring matched contemporary descriptions of Catherine of Aragon. I’ve seen other paintings of her in later life, and there is a resemblance between them and this early portrait, but it is by far the best, most naturalistic, portrait of her I’ve seen. I was convinced, and I found myself looking into her eyes and wondering, again, what were her impressions of Ludlow as a 16-year-old traveller. Of course, she went on to become a very popular Queen of England, as the wife of Henry VIII – that was travelling with a purpose, which made our trip seem pretty frivolous by comparison. Happily, the Kunsthistorisches Museum allows photographs, so I took one (reproduced to the left) and, since coming back from Vienna, I have looked at it a couple of times. If we were making a list of the most interesting and notable citizens of Ludlow, she’d come pretty near the top of my list, despite her relatively short stay. It’s nice to think that, even then, Ludlow was a place of immigration.
Marches Angling Group A visit to Vienna
Chasing down Catherine text} Simon Pease
– OBSERVATIONS – IF you’ve read this column before, you’ve probably picked up that I’ve been lucky enough to have travelled quite a lot – I think I’m lucky, though I appreciate not everyone shares my enthusiasm. My job involved visiting different places, sometimes staying in one place for an extended period, even living there for a few years and, when I did this, most of our family holidays were taken in this country, visiting family. Quite recently I stopped that work and, as many people do, we began to focus more on holidays abroad. I’m not a great one for lying on a beach outside a hotel, so when we travel it tends to be to see something we haven’t seen before or, as in last September, for me to revisit places I know and introduce my wife to them. Shortly after moving to Ludlow we went to Granada, a place neither of us knew, because we wanted to see the Alhambra Palace; it had an added interest,
as it was from there that, at the age of 16 in 1501, Catherine of Aragon came to this country to marry Prince Arthur, to whom she had been betrothed at the age of three. The couple lived in Ludlow Castle for about six months, when the unfortunate Prince died. It has always struck me that the culture shock for Catherine must have been quite pronounced, but it was her fate, decided on by her father for political reasons, and she did her duty stoically. All the same, I can’t help thinking that when she gazed out of our grey-stone castle on a damp day, there must have been times when she felt homesick for the warmth and luxury of her home in Andalusia – the Alhambra, originally built by the Moors, was certainly luxurious, and (apart from the lack of a broadband connection) quite a few of us could live there happily even today. We were stunned by the beauty of the Alhambra and enjoyed strolling around the streets of Granada and eating tapas, usually
New season, new ambitions Club Waters Course and fly fishing on the River Teme & three mixed course pools (all south of Ludlow). As an expanding club, MAG is looking for new members and new water to fish. This season we’d like to find a good sized stocked pool to lease from a land owner (over 2.5 acres) so if anyone wants to join the club or can help us find fresh fishing opportunities then call 07816 303742 or join at JMC Tackle.
Bring your EA licence and £60 to obtain a full season’s fishing permit at JMC Tackle, Unit 6/7 Orleton Road, Ludlow Trading Estate, Ludlow.
Whitcliffe Common
1942 to 1957
Nature and the next generation
My Ludlow childhood
text} Lucy Heasman
text} J.B. Colquhoun née Willis | image} The Bookshop
– ENVIRONMENT – GETTING our children and the next generation interested in the natural world these days is quite a challenge to say the least. With all their curiosity awakened by mobile devices and computers, often there is little space left for enjoying the freedom of the outdoors. Yet the appreciation of nature must be a top priority for any parent; educating children on wildlife and the natural world is of huge importance so that the next generation grow up to respect and value the environment, especially with global warming not just looming but already present to a degree. Whitcliffe Common is a perfect place to take your children in Ludlow ... one where they can absorb and become immersed in nature. A walk along the river bank, up the narrow and rather steep steps, through the wooded area, then out on to the open ground, where you look over to the castle and a view of Ludlow Town, is a pleasure. It is a walk that will surely both interest and wear them out. The river holds many plants (a dream for any Botanical expert), there are little waterfalls flowing down off the cliffs and into the river itself, and the water is a deep green colour, reflecting all the surrounding plant life. If you are lucky, you may come across the two resident swans who rear their young at a chosen spot further down stream. Once you find the steps up into the woods (yes it is a tall climb, but worth it) the wooded area is quite dark and damp, and the sky
is shaded from walkers below by all the trees – the smell of the earth here is fresh and moist on a late summer evening. Then coming out on to the open grass, uneven under foot, there are benches dotted around to enjoy a flask of tea or eat a picnic and take in the view. A regular outing of this kind must surely awaken children’s senses. On an outing such as this, children could watch the water and learn patience and observational skills, as they wait to see a salmon dip above the surface and dive back down. They could learn from a fisherman on the bank, or watch and marvel at the skills of an artist quietly painting at an easel ... these surprises are things that will keep children interested. Exercise is also very important, and walking is a way that children can enjoy this while being amused by the world around them. On the green at the top there is space to run about, perhaps playing fetch with their dog, and then the freedom of nature is complete. Spotting places in the distance, with some sort of creative game over a picnic, is a lovely idea to keep interest in the outside world and to notice their surroundings; in such a beautiful place, there are many ideas you can create to keep children entertained. Today’s world is one where we must take every opportunity that we can to get children involved in this way, so that the adults of tomorrow will grow up to protect and love the natural world, and to fight for the survival of wildlife and animals in every possible way.
– MY STORY – IN 1942, at the age of three, I moved to Ludlow, with my mother Mary and brother Simon, aged 8. My father, who was in the army, wanted us to find a safe place to live – as we were with our grandmother in Sussex during the Battle of Britain. We took a firstfloor flat at 41 Mill Street: it was in a filthy state. My mother was unable to buy a scrubbing brush, but managed to borrow one from Mrs Tay, a kind butcher’s wife. Towards the end of the war, Nigel, my father, returned – taking up the post of Commandant of the POW camp in Sheet Road. We would often visit farms with him, where the Germans and Italians worked. I still have a water colour
of the distant Malvern Hills by an East German. Food was rationed and when Mary dropped a precious egg in the gutter in Mill Street, every effort was made to rescue it as it rolled down the hill. When Australian cousin Jim, on leave from the forces, came to stay without his ration book, a precious five pieces of oxtail had to be shared out between the family. Simon and I used to dine once a week at the British Restaurant in the Angel Hotel. I was especially entranced by stacks of plates piled high on metal rings. Our biggest excitement was a children’s party at the Rose & Crown, where we had our first ever jelly – possibly on VE day. Our milk was delivered on pony and trap by Mr Tudge, who would
ladle it from the churns to jugs left on the doorstep. Bread was from Jones the Bakers in Bell Lane. In the late Forties my parents opened The Bookshop at No41 Broad Street, which they rented from Dr Zair’s surgery next door. It was a very popular meeting place for the locals. Children’s author Malcolm Saville began his next book Master of Maryknoll with the line: “They knew the church of St Laurence and the fascinating little bookshop in Broad Street.” We eventually bought 41 Mill Street and let the bottom flat to two schoolteachers from the girl’s High School at the top of the road. My friend Micky would ride from Ashford Carbonell to the Grammar School, at the bottom of the street, and stabled his pony at the blacksmith’s next door. Simon took a holiday job with Percy Nash – the carpenter of Dinham. Nigel created a massive kitchen garden and, from our Mullberry tree, we made vast quantities of jam and stewed fruit. It was an incredibly happy time – shopping at Mr Ross’s sweet shop; children’s parties with Lady Bushby at Ludford Hall; Snow White showing at the cinema in Old Street; walks over Whitcliffe with my corgi – and mushrooming by the Teme. My top-floor bedroom over-looked the rooftops to Clee Hill, where I rode ponies with my friend Joanna. I have returned many times to Ludlow, since leaving in 1957, and have seen extraordinary changes: for example, the Victorian Town Hall has gone. The house where our good friend and daily help, Mrs Breakwell, lived in Lower Broad Street would no longer have to share a privy with five others. The almshouses opposite the church – where my grandfather died – are no longer the cottage hospital. The Ludlow Festival was only a dream, and as for food, I am amazed by the difference. --------------------------------------------The pencil sketch (pictured) is one of the ‘six postcards of Ludlow’ which were sold by The Bookshop of 41 Broad Street.
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Marches Angling Group photo credit} Richard Stanton
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Herefordshire
The essence of hops captured on film text} Marsha O’Mahony | images} Derek Evans
– NEIGHBOURS – HEREFORDSHIRE is often seen as the poor relation in the hop stakes, especially when it comes to its hopgrowing rivals. Yet this green, fertile county is the leader when it comes to growing hops. The hand-picking days have long been replaced by new processes and technology, but the beautiful, aromatic fruit is as evocative as ever. A new film, Stories from the Hop Yard, charts those hop picking hey-days, from the ‘40s to the 60s’. It’s a timely project - two of the interviewees (hop pioneer Peter Davies of Claston Farm, and Barry Parker of Munderfield), both in their 90s, died recently. They witnessed a revolution in their industry, as it moved away from hand-picking towards mechanisation. Peter Davies’ prodigious hopgrowing operation was once the biggest in Europe, producing over 600 pockets each season. Easy to see why he was once described as the ‘hop king’. It has all changed today of course. Where once his hop farm was one of hundreds in Herefordshire, today there are less than 30. Some of these are several generations strong, others starting out for the first time. In its pre-mechanised days, the hop harvest was picked by hand, requiring a labour force up to ten thousand strong. The mass migration of pickers would start in late August, from the local communities, the smoky Black Country, sooty South Wales, and the Romany travellers, a great spectacle as they arrived in their ornate caravans. The annual movement of people was unprecedented and rarely remarked upon. Sleepy villages were transformed, as women (it was a mostly female occupation) and their children, toddlers, babies in prams, streamed out of train stations, off buses and trucks, arriving to take up residence in farm outbuildings, freshly whitewashed and strewn with new hay. This was their temporary home for the next month. Beds would be made, sheets and blankets thrown over the straw, food stored in ‘hop’ boxes away from the mice and rats, wood collected for the fires, and fresh milk collected from the farmer’s wife. It was a period of high intensity, sweat, toil, tempers and laughter. During the height of the season, the view over the Frome valley in the evening was akin to a military encampment. The landscape was littered with fires, in one corner there were tents, caravans, an accordion playing, and in another there was singing and dancing around the fire. Food was cooked on ‘devils’, huge iron contraptions
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that held fire wood and balanced steaming saucepans of soup and stew. There were horse sales, fights, and strikes. It was the highlight of the year for many. It all changed with the invention of the Bruff machine – within a few short years, a way of life that the county had become accustomed to for over a hundred years, came to an end – it really was the end of an era. The late Barry Parker of Inestone Court was a third-generation hop farmer and his son, Simon, still runs their hop operation today. Speaking last November in his farmhouse home where he was born, Barry had vivid memories of the pickers arriving en masse at the start of each season. It was like a holiday for many, lots of fresh air and good fresh food, but it was an equally important opportunity to earn a precious few pennies: “One of my first memories is hop pickers, hundreds of hop pickers in the buildings everywhere. I was always a bit frightened of them, but they were very nice people really. They were certainly short of money and it was a good holiday for them because they had no other chance of going out into the country. Some of them took it seriously and earned money and others of them treated it as a holiday. It just went on and on, but the majority of them came to earn some money. We used to have a strike every year. It was the thing to do to have a strike. And father got the buckets out and gave them plenty of cider and next morning they were back at work. It always happened like that. But you always had to have a strike: it was the thing to do. It was a day off really.” Romany gypsies, a marginalised group today, were an essential part of the workforce during the hop harvest and were trusted members of the team. Margaret Dallow of Bromyard, remembers them well: “We used to have 200 hop pickers and 100 children from the Welsh valleys, and they came in cattle lorries. There was one with the people in and one with the luggage in. We also had about 100 gypsies there and they used to camp on the road right down to the farmhouse and all down the one field were these green square tents, that had pretty coloured material hanging inside, and hundreds of dogs. They used to come with their horses and trade them from the farm and they never said how many horses there were. My sisters and I, we used to look out of the window, and there would be 40, 50 horses in the field, and then overnight they’d disappear completely and you wouldn’t know where they went. “Sunday nights were lovely because the Welsh pickers used to sing Welsh hymns. And this memory has stayed with me. I love a Welsh
choir. And we used to clean out the cattle shed, so that they could all come in there and sing their hymns and that was a lovely sound.” During the day, six days a week, the women and children, babies in prams and often in hop cribs, would pick, while the older children went searching for firewood or go scrumping in the surrounding orchards. Once back, they would light a fire and the kettle would be boiled for tea. Sometimes the farmer’s wife would come around with horse and cart and serve tea or cider. Sandwiches were wrapped in muslin, everything tasted of hops. Every so often words echoing around the hop yard would alert to the arrival of the bushler, “Clear them up, clear them up!”, the measuring man with his basket. He wasn’t always the most popular and he often had his hands full; the pickers, mostly women, were not afraid to make their feelings known if they felt the he wasn’t being generous enough or favoured another picker. They were a tough vocal bunch, every penny, every hop mattered. Long before universal suffrage, one of the Pankhurst
sisters was spreading her message in the hop fields of Herefordshire. Margaret Dallow again: “The women would go on strike if they weren’t paid enough money as they thought they should and they would stop picking. My mother told me that at one farm they beat up the bushler because he wasn’t playing fair. And the bushler had to be very careful how he bushelled from one crib to another. If he was bushling light, as they used to say, he would only put a little bit in, if he liked the women, he would put a little bit in and say, ‘one’. Well the next one, he’d fill the basket right up to the top, and the women soon would notice and they would get around him. I can see my father bushelling now. They used to say, ‘come on Bill, come on Bill’.” One of the great traditions of the hop yard was getting ‘cribbed’. If you were getting married, or perhaps one of the few bachelors on the farm, then you were in danger of being cribbed, picked up and thrown into the crib and smothered into the hops. It happened to a young John Pudge: “We were still picking by hand in 1958/59; I was there with
my father in the hop yard, I wasn’t very old, but I was picked up and thrown into the crib. Father had no hesitation but to laugh so there was no problem grabbing hold of me and smothering me in the hops.” And so, this way of life could have gone on forever, if it hadn’t been for a Mr Brooke in nearby Suckley and his invention of the Bruff machine. Technology drove the change, bringing the industry firmly into the 20th century. The hop pickers were no longer needed and within ten years, their annual migration had reduced to barely a trickle. Progress means some old ways have to be left behind, but it’s hard not be nostalgic for those heady hop picking days.... -------------------------------------A film charting the heritage and the future of hop picking in Herefordshire is now being shown. Stories from the Hop Yards brims with archive photos, film, and newly-recorded interviews. Inspired by the rediscovered photography collection of Derek Evans: Produced by Herefordbased Catcher Media.
2018 Spring Festival
Over 200 beers and one new manager text and image} Ludlow Food Festival
– EVENTS – THE 2018 Ludlow Spring Festival promises to be a memorable event – bringing together the very best regional beer, food, music, plus classic cars in the form of the Marches Transport Festival. This is a beer festival plus so much more, with over 200 beers from more than 60 local brewers available to taste over the weekend. And for those less keen on beer, there will be ciders, perries, fruitflavoured liqueurs and local wines.
There will also be plenty of artisan food producers too, so you don’t have to wait for the September Festival to stock up on your favourite products. It’s a great chance to meet producers, hear about their story and learn why they make their products. The beer and food will be accompanied by a wealth of great music (from jazz and blues, to Latin and folk) and The Marches Transport Festival where classic vehicles – from pre-war gems right through to modern day classics of
the 70s and 80s – will be on show. This year’s Ludlow Spring Festival will be on the weekend of 12th-13th May, with a special preview evening on Friday 11th May (5pm-9pm) when visitors can ‘Meet the Brewer’. It’s a opportunity to talk to brewers about their beers and to sample the full selection. Prizes are handed out early in the weekend and favourites sell out quickly, so the Friday preview is the opportunity to make sure you don’t miss anything. Pre-Festival discounts are available this year – visit the Festival website for more details: ludlowspringfestival.co.uk. A new Events Manager has joined the Festival Team – Hannah Mackley will now oversee the Spring Festival in May, the Magnalonga food walk in August and, of course, the annual Ludlow Food Festival in September. Hannah has spent most of her career working with food and drink – from European chocolate manufacturer ADM Schokinag, to, more recently, establishing and running the highly-acclaimed Harp Lane Deli in Ludlow with her husband, Henry. And she’s no stranger to the Festival either, having grown up in Ludlow and been involved while her parents and in-laws were helping to run the Ludlow Food Festival. The Festival team are delighted to have her on board. Chairman Phil Maile said: “We are very pleased to welcome Hannah and are sure that she’ll make a valuable contribution to all our events. Her passion and enthusiasm for food is undeniable and her contact book of producers means that she already knows many of our exhibitors.” Hannah commented: “I’m really looking forward to the year ahead, working with the Festival Team, the Board of Directors, exhibitors and of course the many volunteers, without whom the Festival wouldn’t be possible.” -------------------------------------Friday 11th May (Meet the Brewer preview night): 5pm to 9pm Saturday 12th May: 10am to 9pm Sunday 13th May: 10am to 5pm
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– COVER STORY – < continued from the front page There’s no pressure on new members to push themselves though – “We always say just do what you can” shrugs Oli. “It’s for all abilities. If you’ve just started, people lift you along and you get pulled along with it and your fitness comes up as a result. People do a bit more, push that bit harder. Everybody has an idea of how fit they are but sometimes it’s not that accurate,” he laughs. He tells of someone who told them they were super-fit and, at the end of the hour warm-up, acknowledged that perhaps they weren’t quite as fit as they’d thought. “And that’s fine,” he says, “it really is. We do want to be open and we do want new people to come along and try it.” By day, Oli is a professional tree surgeon based at Onibury, but every week, on a Monday, he comes to the club for two hours to coach members alongside Nick. “I always liked sport and I always liked boxing as a kid, my dad was always mad on boxing too.” He joined when he was 27, now, at 35, he is happy just being a coach, plus he’s a father to two young girls, so he has his hands full. “Duncan, one of the co-founders said: ‘come down and have a go.’ I found it really welcoming and I stayed. It’s the same as any club really, half of those here are friends.” Oli started boxing for fitness and then got asked to box for the club. “I didn’t do a huge amount, seven bouts in total, but then I was asked, ‘would you be interested in coaching?’ I wanted to give something back, so it worked out well.” Oli points out one young lad who’s only recently joined the club. “He does motocross and has been wanting to come here for ages, but he had to wait ’til he was eight. He’s representing Great Britain for motocross early next year.” Judging by the happy grin on his face, the motocross boy wonder is clearly having the time of his life and he’s not the only one. It’s a very happy and surprisingly safe and supportive environment, not really what I was expecting. “What were you expecting?” grins Oli. “A bunch of men punching each other?” He laughs. “Fitness is often the first thing really, but friendship has a lot to do with it too. I have really good friends that I wouldn’t have met otherwise, either from work or socially. There’s all sorts of different social backgrounds in here.” Having such a good space at Wheeler Road has made a big difference to the club. Oli and the rest of the coaches are delighted to be in their current ‘state of the art’ building because the old boxing club “was like a chicken hut,” he confides. “If you weren’t serious about it, you wouldn’t be in the club as you wouldn’t even be able to fit in it.” Held in an ancient Girl Guides’ hut (now demolished), the old hall wasn’t even a third of the size of their current venue. Now the club has changing facilities for men and women, a fixed beam with punchbags and a decent kit room for ropes and gear, plus, of course, some all-important window shelves to display their trophy haul. The club also keeps its prices low in order to be as accessible to as many people as possible. Juniors (under-16s) pay just £3 for
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2 hours and seniors (that’s those aged over 16 folks) pay £4 for two hours. Given the level of workout that I see taking place in front of me and how expensive many gyms and private classes can be, that’s a bargain. The first session is always free too. And membership for the year is £10 per head with an extra £10 for anyone who wants to spar. Oli believes that boxing is good not just for overall fitness but also for confidence, particularly for the younger members. “Confidence is a big thing, it’s a life skill really and it’s not just confidence in themselves and their ability, but they speak to older people here in the club and they’re on an equal footing. They all warm up together, they can ask each other questions, it’s not just the confidence you can get from looking after yourself,” says Oli. What’s the upper age for the club? Oli laughs. “Well I wouldn’t say ‘bring a bus load of pensioners in’ but then, having said that, a lot of retired people these days are incredibly fit. It’s about fitness and ability really – if someone is keen, come down and have a go. You don’t lose anything.” The head coach, called variously Stu or Chinny depending on who you’re talking to, is clearly a bit of a hero at the club. At 54, he’s currently their oldest member but is also one of the founders of the club along with Duncan Morris and his now award-winning boxing son, Craig Morris. Back in 2006, the young Craig, then aged 14, approached his dad with the idea of setting up a boxing club. “I think there had been boxers in the family some years back and he quite liked the idea of giving it a go. Duncan had a word around town and a group came together – Chinny, Duncan, Tony Seal and Flo Hadley. Flo is the absolute backbone of the club, she needs a massive mention” says Oli, pointing at my notepad. “It wouldn’t run without her, if there’s a grant she goes for it. She does so much work for us, it really wouldn’t run without her.” Craig was clearly on to a winning streak when his parental nagging paid off and the club was set up. Now in his midtwenties, Craig is currently the IBO (International Boxing Organisation) Continental Welterweight champion after beating Ryan Martin early last December at Leicester Arena. He’s a true local hero and is absolutely still a Ludlow lad ... as Oli says, “if you see a crazy man running along the A49, that’s probably him.” Craig runs ten miles a day. Every single day. “Yeah, he’s very fit,” laughs Oli. “You have to be. Thing is, with boxing, fitness is key – if you walk in and you’re fitter than your opponent, well….” Craig’s still involved in the club’s committee and “he comes in and shows the kids all the belts he wins. It’s inspiring you know, a pro-boxer coming in, he’s very approachable and he’s a good advert for us.” Remarkably, all four coaches have full-time day jobs on top of their club commitments. Monday nights are run by Oli and Nick with Wednesdays run by Chinny and Adam. Currently the club is only open twice a week and Oli admits that they would like to open on more nights but only if they can find more coaches. They like training up coaches from the current membership, both as a development
opportunity but also because they have a genuine understanding of the commitment needed, as well as a strong sense of the ethos of the club. “If we had more coaches, we could open five days a week,” says Oli. They’re also considering running a women-only session too. Female members are encouraged at the moment, but Oli is aware that dedicated sessions can appeal to a different group too. Wheeler Road is on the edge of the centre of town; Oli says “It’s got a reputation for being at the rougher end of town, but half the kids wouldn’t hurt a fly. If kids come here for the wrong reasons – we hear they’re playing up at school, getting into fights, anything like that – they get booted out. But sometimes we find that they get discipline here and respect too. They can be cheeky monkeys but we’re fair handed with them and they respect that.” The coaches also encourage members to practise at home as much as possible. “You can’t do everything there, but you can do footwork, stance. Don’t just practise whilst you’re here, do it at home – practise makes perfect as the saying goes.” says Oli. What about the reputation that boxing has for being dangerous? Oli points to the latest regulation that says adults don’t have to wear a headguard any more “so it can’t be that bad for you.” He’s seen a boom in interest in the sport since Nicola Adams’s triumph at the Olympics. “It’s changed a lot in the past five or six years. If you’d have asked ten years ago, name five boxers, people would have struggled unless they were already really interested in it but now, you could ask anyone in here and they’d easily be able to do it.” Adams’s success and her infectious joy at winning has also spurred on more women to take up the sport. “When we do go to bouts, you’d be surprised at the number of women boxing,” Oli says. “Women often get the fights of the night awarded to them too.” He thinks for a while as he keeps an eye on the youngsters training. “Boxing is a lonely sport in some ways, you’ve got to be motivated to do it.” One of the lads runs up to him. “Shall I do another circuit?” he asks, eagerly. “Yeah, go on then,” replies Oli and the boy’s off doing jumping jacks and squat thrusts at a rate of knots. Oli’s two young daughters are not old enough to join the club and won’t be for some time yet, but does he imagine them coming down here? He laughs and thinks for a moment. “I’d be surprised if they didn’t at least have a go, yeah. You have a go at boxing, but you have fun too.” It’s noticeable the number of smiles on people’s faces as they do more circuit training or use the punch bags and Oli deadpans in response, “Yeah, they won’t be smiling at the end...” He laughs. “One of the nice things is that the majority of them, at the end of the night, they shake your hand – from adults to kids – the kids see the adults doing it so they do it too. And it helps break down those barriers you know. The kids might see some of the adults on the street or around town and say hello. It brings people together. That’s what most clubs are really isn’t it? Good social, meeting people. That’s what it’s all about.”
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Page 8 and cover text} Liz Hyder | images} Ashleigh Cadet
Just a small selection of your emails, letters, postcards and social posts from Facebook and Twitter
Letters to the Ledger We’d love to hear from you – editor@ludlowledger.co.uk – VIEWS & COMMENTS – REGARDING the poem, in the previous issue of the Ludlow Ledger, about Ludlow in days gone by, the mention of ‘Bow-Wow’ brought back memories of other Ludlow characters who were around at the same time... Some of these people were adversely affected by the Second World War and others were a part of the rural community that existed after that time. Either way, they all had fascinating stories to tell – and deserve to be remembered as part of Ludlow’s rich and colourful heritage. It needs someone with a better memory than mine to do a bit of research into the stories of these men and women, to ensure that they are not forgotten. I remember Bow Wow, whose real name I do not know, playing ‘Drink to me only’ on his violin to an assembly of local dignitaries outside the Angel Hotel, at kicking-out time. Other names that well up from the past are Dirty Dick – who was anything but dirty: when he was not working in the auction yard at the market, he would be trying to catch the Town Hall pigeons for his tea – whilst having to endure the taunts of the local youths, to whom upsetting Dick was considered to be great sport. There was Trenchie Lockett, who lived in a shed in Ludford Park. Harry Walker (Long Harry) used to drive cattle and sheep from the Welsh coast to the markets at Ludlow and Craven Arms. He always had tales to tell. Gerald Portlock, always instantly recognisable in his Stetson hat, was in the circus business and once – famously – kept a lion in a shed in the old brickyard. And last in my list is Mrs Adams, who pushed a pram around the town, collecting rags and other odds and ends – and who would buy skins of moles and rabbits for making gloves and hats. There are others too, who should be on this list. They were part of a
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community where everyone knew everyone else, and it is only right that they should not be forgotten. I look forward to reading replies from fellow Ledger readers older than I am, and with (I imagine) far better memories. Anon, Ludlow --------------------------------------------WITH regard to the piece on the reception of the Ludlow 10 race (Ludlow Ledger #18) a very valid gripe is that it was planned without any consideration or forethought as to what else might be happening in the town that evening. The Ludlow Choral Society had a concert in St Laurence’s Church that had been long-arranged: it involved getting some 100 singers, an orchestra, and (most importantly) an audience into town that evening from all over South Shropshire and
beyond, with the prospect of closed roads and the loss of much-needed parking. Last minute negotiations achieved some modification of the timing of the closures, but not in time for many of the potential audience to be assured of being able to get to the church. The financing of concerts is always a knife-edge affair, and this one lost money. On the more general question of the supposed benefits of such events, Thomas Hardy took a typically cynical but perhaps valid view: Provincial “towns are like little children in this respect, that they interest most when they are enacting native peculiarities unconscious of beholders. Discovering themselves to be watched they attempt to be entertaining by putting on an antic, and produce disagreeable caricatures [of themselves] which spoil them.” Roy Payne, Ludlow ---------------------------------------------MY twin brother recently visited from Finland, and he likes to catch up with the Ledger. Regarding the article about the renovation of 13 High Street, he particularly remembered The Disc Bar and, in addition to records, one or two guitars were offered for sale in the late 1960s: One such on display was a Futurama, Stratocaster-like electric, probably in pale blue. He also remembers
on another occasion, there was a Hofner Verithin for sale. Daphne French, Ludlow ---------------------------------------------I READ in the Hereford Times that a parlour pub is proposed for Leominster. I understand you run a parlour pub from the Ledger building so thought you could explain what a parlour pub is? Tony Reynolds, Leominster The pub as we know it began, centuries ago, as a private house with its kitchen open for the sale of drink. The term parlour pub relates more to private dwellings where drink was consumed in the parlour. The Sun Inn (Leintwardine) once illustrated this, with its kitchen being more of a pantry where beer was served from, with customers drinking in the front parlour. The Dyffryn Arms, Pontfaen (the only true remaining parlour pub in the Country in my mind) consists of a central corridor from the road with a door to the left leading you to the front parlour: The remainder of the house is a private dwelling, with Bass served from the barrel through a hatch in the wall that separates the private kitchen from the parlour. In a nutshell: a domestic house that serves beer from the kitchen in its parlour. ---------------------------------------------IN your previous edition of the Ludlow Ledger you included a ACROSS 1 Article introduces provincial walks in local area (3,5,7) 9 City church in utter disarray (7) 10 A person shortly to outdo setter and first to expound (7) 11 English love to meddle with “3 Rs” – mistake! (5) 13 Flier in officer’s room over angry tirade (9) 14 Soldiers return with degree of character (5) 15 Shameless journalist finishes off an Italian buffet (9) 17 Collecting for party (9) 18 One that returns to harass (5) 20 Returning pets with bad smell to the French causes difficulties (9) 22 Barman’s hops and yeast deliveries not in the van (5) 23 Pig eats fish and bird (7) 24 Nile rat cooked for convenience at camp (7) 26 Motorists divide packets of ten boiled sweets (10,5 DOWN 1 Dupes unclothed and imprisoned by members with
letter from Bill Campbell who is tracing his wife’s Meyrick ancestors in the Ludlow area. In an article on the Ludlow Theatre which appears in the Civic Society’s newsletter, Heritage News, there is the following reference: ‘The Reader, the Rev. Robert Meyrick, who always read the prayers on Sunday morning, an oriental scholar who could read Persian, was a regular patron of the theatre and usually occupied a box in the tumble-down theatre at the foot of Mill Street.’ This appeared first in the Advertiser for January 25th 1908, referring to a time 60 years earlier, so about 1848. As Reader for the church, he may well have occupied the Reader’s House, though I can’t be sure of this. The author of the article, our Chairman, Richard Hurlock, may be able to help, and our Treasurer, Alan Layng now lives at the Reader’s House and may know more about previous occupants. Members of the Historical Research Group will probably know the answer. Valerie Thomas, Ludlow Civic Society I shall pass on the information to Bill, and look forward to hearing from Richard and Alan in due course.
fake locks (7) 2 Clearly, heart is an organ (3) 3 Are exotic rocks to hammer? (9) 4 TV cure imposed (3) 5 Young lady crosses island glen oddly and messes up (11) 6 He’s ardently in love with capital (5) 7 Ebullient chap’s casual “yahoo” about right line for female (6,5) 8 Toiled to consume, tucking into vegetable, mostly (7) 12 Sinatra dances after kit gets hot - perfectly well! (5,2,4) 13 Vegetable sounds like dog rose perhaps (11) 16 A way to raise quote without interest (9) 17 Put shine on work in town (7) 19 Unionists in US look for “no” vote from the floor (7) 21 Accept that beer gas comes up inside (5) 24 No end to shortage of resin (3) 25 Kind of skimmed dairy product (3) -------------------------------------You can find out the answers to the previous crossword on P16.
Victorian recipes
Weights & measures text} Jon Saxon
– BREWING – TRYING to imagine what the beer drinker of Ludlow would have drunk back in Victorian times has become quite a curiosity for me, especially as the conservation work to the present 13 High Street as it would have been in the mid-nineteenth century, has revealed a tantalising backdrop to take things one step further. Researching fixtures and fittings is one thing – but talking about brewing to a Victorian palette is quite something else. As it stands, three recipes from 1865 and 1885 have been testbrewed: a 4.2percent India Pale by Gary Walters at Ludlow Brewing Co., a 4.8percent Best Mild and a 4percent Stout by Jimmy Swan at Swan Brewery in Leominster. All three employ an exciting array of hops ... not only from Great Britain, but cultivations from North America, Germany and France too. Thankfully, all of the varieties loved by brewers of Victorian times are still available. We’ve even been able to source the British hop used (Wye Mathon) – a variant of Kent Goldings – from a farm within a twomile radius of the field our Victorian counterparts acquired theirs. Hallertau – a traditional aroma hop from Germany – was again obtained from source; the hop providing a strong, noble, earthy, herbal hop aroma. Strisselpalt (this time sourced from the Alsace area of France) is another globally accepted aroma hop – this one spicy, citrusy, floral, fruity and herbal – grown in the Alsace area of France. Last but not least, and by far our further import is; Cluster, from Oregon State – another earthy hop, with hints of sweet fruit; it is one of the oldest hop varieties grown in the United States – in fact back in the nineteenth century it accounted for the majority of their hop acreage. Interestingly, huge quantities of American hops were being imported at the time our chosen recipes were being brewed (favoured for their high alpha-acid content, allowing them to be used after many years of storage: some recipes call for fiveyear-old hops). Though our hops have been used a lot fresher, we feel confident that we have fathfully recreated three Victorian classics, going so far as to adopt their brewing practice – one of which was to add 3kg of roasted black malt to the hop kettle. And that’s the India Pale... The question though: will modern Ludlow taste buds take to the palette of our Victorian relations? And we haven’t got too long to find out either, with 13 High Street’s cellar ready to take its first delivery of beer this month...
Shooting club flag
Waving goodbye text} Liz Hyder | image} Ashleigh Cadet – BOUGHT & SOLD – EVERYONE with internet access knows that there are all manner of strange, weird and wonderful things that you can find for sale online, but Ludlow’s Brian Woodall had no idea when he spotted a rather unusual, historic, shooting-club flag for sale on eBay, that it would be the start of a detective trail that culminated
in him being a guest of honour at a German shooting’s club 90th birthday parade last year. The flag, a rather beautiful, hand-embroidered piece of work and decorated on both sides, had clearly seen better days but the affable Brian spotted its potential. Surprised to see an item that he knew would be precious to the shooting club it came from, openly on sale, he immediately
put a bid in for it. The date 1927 is prominent on the flag and Brian knew that, with a major anniversary coming up, the club would be keener than ever to have it returned. Brian’s wife, Liz, can trace her family to Germany three generations back and, when Brian spotted the flag, he knew it could be: “potentially important. I could see that the club would want it back and I went for it with the hope of repatriating it.” With a high bid to make certain he got it, Brian secured the purchase of the flag and then got straight in touch with the club in Bislich, Germany. “I wrote the president a letter and sent him a photo of the flag. I wanted them to have it back and I made it clear that I didn’t want paying for it, I wanted it to go home to where it belonged.” Brian found out that the flag had disappeared at the end of WW2 – he believes a solder brought it back from his travels but no-one knows for certain whether it was found or stolen. Used as a throw over a sofa, the flag had sustained damage from a pet parrot who liked to pick at the gold embroidery. Meanwhile, the vice-president of the club replied to Brian, delighted that the flag would be returned to them and offering to fly both Brian and his wife over for the anniversary celebrations – not just the 90th anniversary of the flag but a bigger anniversary too, 150 years of the Bislich club! Brian, it turns out, had found them a fantastic birthday present. “I’ll be sorry to see it go now...” he said as he packed up the flag to go home.
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Editor-in-chief Jon Saxon Sub editor Sally Newman-Kidd Illustrations Ashleigh Cadet, Richard Stanton, Gunnerboy Authors Liz Hyder, Simon Pease, Prue Britten, Chris Crowcroft, Lucy Heasman, J.B Colquhoun Crossword John Jarvis Cartoon Roger Penwill –––––––––– Publisher Son of Saxon 14 Corve Street, Ludlow, SY8 1DA 01584 872381 jon@sonofsaxon.co.uk –––––––––– Printing Trinity Mirror Printing Ltd. Wood Lane, Erdington, Birmingham, England, B24 9PW 100% recycled 52gsm 76ISO improved tabloid newsprint –––––––––– Online Website: www.ludlowledger.co.uk Twitter: @ludlowledger –––––––––– Advertising Email ads@ludlowledger.co.uk or Phone 01584 872381 In person 14 Corve Street, Ludlow, –––––––––– Legal All rights reserved.
Trouble With Words
Invest in Palmer text} Chris Crowcroft
– LITERATURE – THE third in the series, The Trouble with Words (available from Castle Bookshop and St Laurence) by Ludlow-author Chris Crowcroft, finds 1600s investigator Palmer taking up a position in the censorship office. The problem is that his present boss Edmund Tilney, Master of the Revels, is due to be succeeded by a new man, Sir George Buc, an altogether smoother type with a different outlook. His first task is to check out a new playwright working for Shakespeare’s Globe playhouse, one George Wilkins who turns out to be the volatile landlord of his local tavern in Clerkenwell, where the brothel upstairs features someone from Palmer’s past. She needs to escape, violence threatens. As Palmer re-acquaints himself with the playhouse world, he also ventures into the inky atmosphere of printers and publishers where he detects an appetite for the longlost sonnets of his old antagonist, William Shakespeare. And their old flame Emilia Lanier is back on the scene, keen to portray herself in print in a more respectable light: ----------------------------------------------The Master of the Revels finally looked up. Palmer sensed himself being surveyed with disapproval. “It’s nothing personal, Palmer, but I don’t want you.” ...Palmer was not surprised, he was ready for it. His appointment was not in the gift of the man in front of him, it belonged to Tilney’s boss, one of the great ministers of State. What the Lord Chamberlain might agree with the Chief Minister trumped any independence of Tilney’s. Theirs was a pond bigger than the one Tilney lurked in, like some old carp hugging the muddy depths here in his Clerkenwell pond. Palmer tactfully did not say it; it was enough that he knew, and that Tilney knew that he knew. “What would you say your qualifications are for the post?” Tilney’s question was not friendly. Since when were qualifications necessary to get your snout in the gravy train, Palmer asked himself? “Doing what Lord Salisbury asks me to,” Palmer said, dropping the name of his patron, the Chief Minister. ... “So I’ve got no choice,” Tilney growled. --------------------------------------------For a second time Palmer assumed that the interview was over with Tilney’s anointed successor. He made to go but Sir George Buc held on to him: “Has Mr Tilney heard about the latest gem being polished up by the King’s Men?” “You mean the playhouse in the Blackfriars?” Buc shook his head. “No, not that, interesting though
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it is and a sign, shall we say, of the improving times. No, I’m talking about their new spectacular – Pericles.” “Father of the Athenian state?” “No, Pericles, Prince of Tyre. A romantic story – wife lost at sea, miraculously rescued and rediscovered years later. ...Or so one hears.” Palmer groaned inside. “Mr Shakespeare’s latest?” he guessed. “Is it a matter for us? Isn’t it something for Tilney, a play not a book?” “You’re right of course......but there’s talk of one George Wilkins writing it – not a name I know enough about. I like us to keep our ears close to the ground, thinking forwardly.....” ......and of his succession, sooner or later to Tilney. Palmer was relieved to be back on firmer ground. Wilkins was a common enough name – there was a publican of that name with premises on the corner of his street in Clerkenwell. “You may want to look into him,” Buc said, rising from his chair to indicate that their meeting was finally over. ----------------------------------------------“Apparently you have a namesake who fancies himself as a writer,” Palmer tried again. Palmer saw a dangerous look in Wilkins’s eyes. So it was him. He judged it unwise to say anything about his own translation into the censorship office. “Well, I always took you for an educated man, George,” he said instead. “That’s just as well, Richard.” ...Silence. “My father was a poet......” Wilkins started to say, watching Palmer with a careful eye for any sign of disrespect. Palmer put on his interested look. “......I tried my hand at it early, but there wasn’t much money in it.” Wilkins’s eyes appeared to shift, darting around the room. “……until last year, when I thought I’d have another go.” “I heard it was to do with plays,” Palmer said. “Like as not.” Palmer waited. Wilkins’s eyes went on dancing. “With the King’s Men was what I heard,” Palmer prompted him. “You’d be right. There’s another one on the go, for the same company......” Pericles, Prince of Tyre, Palmer wanted to say but held it back which was just as well when he heard what Wilkins next had to say. “…….but I’m not at liberty to say. Can’t be too careful. Ideas are easy stolen,” he said, turning his full gaze on his questioner. Palmer deflected it. “The King’s Men - isn’t the man Shakespeare their chief writer?” “Mebbe.” Palmer held back, waiting for more. Wilkins was not disposed to be helpful. “What’s it to do with you, Richard? I know your business, running after the young wives of crusty old aldermen. Why are you asking so many questions?” Palmer made something up about needing to keep track of the man Shakespeare, old business to do with unpaid bills. “We all have those,” Wilkins said, a second reason for him not to help his customer.
He walked towards the door. “Lodges round here or used to, Master Shakespeare,” he turned back to say, “Silver street, which is by St Giles’s gate, round the corner from me. Haven’t seen him since the lady of the house died.” Palmer remembered the place from that first case, when the writer went to ground with a Huguenot family – it did him no good, Palmer had found him all the same. “Does he......?” Palmer left the question incomplete, his eyes indicating the girls waiting upstairs. ...Wilkins shrugged neither yes nor no. ----------------------------------------------The mud-stained traveller looked around the room in the Bankside alehouse. “Good God, it’s Will! You’re a sight for sore eyes,” John Hemmings said as soon as he saw him, as the man of business for their acting company well might. William Shakespeare pulled up a stool by the fire. Hemmings signalled to the landlord for a pot of beer. He waited. Shakespeare did not speak. “Where are you lodging?” Hemmings asked. A tapster arrived with the beer. Shakespeare left it untouched and the question unanswered. “Have you been writing?” Hemmings asked him more anxiously. It was the pressing need, from all their points of view. “Tilney has been asking.” Shakespeare shrugged. “You got the news about your brother Edmund?” This had more effect on the arrival. ... “Where is he?” – “Not far from here, in a room; I’ve made sure it’s clean and warm. He’s not well, not well at all.” Both men knew what that meant. “How long has he got?” Shakespeare asked. Hemmings spread his hands. “Only God knows, the doctor cannot say.” The two men fell into an awkward silence. ... “How was the wedding?” Hemmings asked. “He’s a good man, Dr Hall,” Shakespeare conceded after time. Not good enough to do his new father-in-law much good, Hemmings reckoned to himself. He’d hoped that rest, country air and some herbal purging would have set his colleague on the mend. There was nothing better than the dropping of a batch of turds to make a man feel better about the world, was his opinion. Yet the malaise of the last few months seemed no better than it had been before for the man in front of him. Was it of the body or of the mind? “There’s a child on the way,” Shakespeare said, as a matter of unremarkable fact. “Great news! You are to be a grandfather.” “Where is he?” Shakespeare asked, meaning his brother. Hemmings told him. Without another word, Shakespeare stood up to go. ----------------------------------------------“What’s the problem with Pericles?” Richard Burbage asked. “Where does one start - we have Gower the poet as Chorus......” “Chorus worked well in Harry
Five,” Sly said, who liked to hark back to the past. “That’s as may be,” Hemmings agreed, “but Wilkins has gone overboard for the antique style – ‘iwis’, ‘y-slaked’, ‘y-ravished’ – and I can’t for the life of me persuade him out of it. We could have done with you here Will, we really could.” “Just needs a good bookman,” Sly suggested, a play doctor. Wasn’t that how Will had started in the first place after all? “There’s more,” Hemmings said. “As you know, Pericles loses his wife in a tempest at sea. In the case of the royal princess, Marina......” “Beautiful name,” Shakespeare admitted. “She ends up in a brothel.” Wilkins knew all about brothels, he kept one of his own, known to several of the men present. “I can’t see Tilney liking that!” Armin said. “King James has a daughter.” “Provides a point of sympathy?” Shakespeare suggested. “Her shining virtue keeps her pure, that sort of thing?” “There Wilkins parts company with us,” Hemmings told them. “That’s not the story he wants to tell. He wants to tell it...... how it is.” “Well, he’d know all about brothel life,” Sly said, only to feel put out when nobody laughed, especially those who knew Wilkins’s tavern first hand. “Let me guess,” said Shakespeare, “he has her defiled, but redeemed. Is this where the goddess comes in, Diana, to restore her chastity?” “Just so,” Hemmings said. “It’ll never work,” Richard Burbage said. “Tilney won’t have it, audiences aren’t ready for it. What’s his excuse?” “There’s the rub. Wilkins points out that in Lear, our own Mr Shakespeare departed from the old play to have the favourite daughter Cordelia killed. Quite right, he says, it’s the dramatic truth of the situation. He goes on a lot about it dramatic truth – this Wilkins does, I can tell you.” “Is he not prepared to change his script?” Cuthbert Burbage asked. “No.” – “But are we all agreed,
or most of us,” Burbage said looking at Shakespeare, “that the story has promise?” There was a murmur of agreement. ... “Then what he needs is a collaborator!” All eyes turned on Shakespeare. ----------------------------------------------Palmer got out out of Wilkins’s tavern into the open air with relief and turned for home nearby. He had hardly started when a figure flew out of the alleyway. It was Ellen: “Yow gotta ‘elp me,” she demanded. Palmer took her back inside the alley, away from any eyes that watched. “What can I do, Ellen?” He could give her money to help her disappear. She would head for the street and soon be back for more. If the Davenants in Oxford could be persuaded to take her back, she wouldn’t stick, the same if he found her a place somewhere else, and how likely was that for a pregnant girl? No, she’d had her chance. “Take me ‘ome!” ... For a moment he thought she meant Oxford, until he realised – his home, the chamber in the rundown tenement up the street. .... “No-nono-no-no,” he objected. “I can’t stay ‘ere, ‘e’ll kill me and the baby soon as not. Yow don’t know what ‘e’s like.” Palmer could guess, but to do what she asked would make him a target instead, a target just up the street. The situation was impossible. “You’d rather he kill me instead?” he told her frankly. ... “But ‘e told me, something about yow bein’ an…..officer o’ the Crown.” Whatever it meant, it was a head start on her in terms of protection. “No!” Palmer repeated emphatically. “So yow won’t ‘elp? I’ll tell ‘im......I’ll tell ‘im yow…. yow tried to take me away!” Palmer pulled her round to face him, hard enough so that she should be as frightened of him as she was of Wilkins. “You be a good girl and get back in there. I’ll try to find a way of getting you away safe.”
Reeds Plus
Left-handed guitars, song sheets & laundry text} Liz Hyder | image} Ashleigh Cadet
– SHOP FRONT – LUDLOW has its fair share of slightly unusual shops, but the current winner of most surprising combination has to be, without doubt, Reeds Plus and, uh, dry cleaners. Run by amiable sisters Sarah Graham and Amanda Reeves from a family business set up by their mother, over the past year the TARDIS-like launderette has transformed into a fullyfledged music shop – with dry cleaning firmly on the side. “Mum set up the laundry business about 34 years ago,” explains Amanda. “And we’d be working here after school and in the evenings. When Mum said she wanted to take a step back from the laundry side, she asked: ‘what do you want to do?’ We had a group think tank and this is what happened. It was a joint idea and it’s been a great change. We had to gut everything – plumbing, boilers and, for the first six months, we were fixing upstairs, sorting the roof, managing the finances and bank balance. The next stage was the transition – our stepfather did all the counter work and put the slatted wall in, we couldn’t have done it without him.” What’s perhaps even more surprising about the transformation is that the family weren’t particularly musical. “Years ago Mum played the violin – she was a secret violinist (Grade 8), but then when she had the family, it sort of got shelved,” says Amanda, who only took up music herself at 29 and now plays various instruments including the saxophone (Sarah plays the clarinet, their mum now plays the oboe and both sisters are teaching themselves classical guitar). “It felt like a miraculous decision,” says Amanda. “I had lessons every other week and got my Grade 8 this year.” She then reveals she’s also a Grade 6 at clarinet – not bad for someone
THE
who never played any instruments at school. “I had to learn from scratch, a bit every day; that’s the hardest thing – the mental challenge. I can’t do it now, but I will, just do a little bit when you can. One setback and then you feel bad about it. Be kind to yourself...” she says. Sarah agrees. “Even if you find a teacher that doesn’t suit, you can always change them.” For the first ten years of learning, Amanda never took a single exam. “I was playing for myself,” she says. “Being kind.” Do Sarah and Amanda find the combination of dry cleaning and music rather odd? They both grin. “Oh no, not really,” says Amanda. “They are compatible, people say they’re not but they are. It really helps with the overheads too, but the hobby is our music and if you can make your hobby into your work … It’s a challenge but you constantly find out new things and meet new people.” “It’s a growing thing,” says Sarah. “It’s not straight away but it’s word of mouth. We’re not showy off people. I hate going into a shop and getting jumped on. We encourage people to look around and to ask if they need anything.” As well as stocking a wide variety of instruments (guitars, ukuleles, accordions, violins, tambourines and even a musical washboard, to name just a selection), the shop also sells a range of accessories and music-related items, from amps and song-sheets to metronomes, reeds, strings, birthday cards, music-themed ties and cufflinks, and even the strangely-irresistible paper clips shaped as pianos. There’s also a notice board on which music teachers can put their details. “We do recommend music teachers,” says Amanda. “Some people want a female teacher, others want a male. If I was starting from scratch, I’d say get a teacher.” The sisters take great pride in running both sides of the business and are absolutely in their element
as they show me the amazing range of instruments they’ve managed to fit into what really is quite a small space. “I love it!” grins Amanda. “I love finding out stuff, different suppliers, what’s the best place to get certain items from, it’s a good mental challenge.” Sarah laughs, saying to Amanda: “You’ve had a go on violin, on everything, anytime a new instrument comes in, she has a go…” They descend into fits of giggles as they remember a set of bagpipes coming in. “I’d need a lot of lessons for that one,” laughs Amanda. “I will have a go at anything. though. I’ve just got a baritone sax but it’s almost as big as I am, it’s hidden at home.” Their most popular sellers at the moment are guitars, but they do try and act as a one-stop shop. “If we haven’t got something, we’ll try and get it in for you and we stay competitive, we have to.” Another thing that they feel makes them stand out is that “women don’t feel as shy about coming in.” says Amanda. “I think some music shops can feel a bit intimidating whereas, because we’re females running it and we’re learning ourselves, it feels a lot more open.” Sarah recalls a lefthanded guitarist coming in, saying he’d been struggling to learn chords
... they now stock left-handed guides for learning. The same man popped by again only last week to say “we’d made his life a lot easier,” smiles Sarah. “He said he was enjoying it so much more now. That’s what we’re here for really.” They have been running as a music shop for around a year now – have they come up against any surprises? They think for a moment. “I don’t think we’d realised just how much young lads went in for guitars,” says Amanda. Sarah agrees but reveals that one of their greatest pleasure is “when someone comes in who says they can’t play and then picks up an instrument and serenades us...” Just eight years ago, the sisters formed the Ludlow Concert Band along with Amanda’s husband, Colin. “He went to Birmingham Conservatoire and was classically trained. He plays at St Giles as an organist and although he’s not part of the business, we run the concert band together.” They practice at the Rugby Club on Thursday nights and play at civic events. They have 30 current players but are always looking for more people to join. “Colin teaches some of the youngsters and I do a bit of tuition too. We could always do with more trumpets and flutes.” They have a good age range in the band too,
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with a 12-year-old who’s been with them for two years or so and, until recently, they had someone in their 90s (he’s now at a care home and unable to play with them anymore). “It’s not high pressured but we do have some events, so we do need a bit of dedication and commitment, but it’s very supportive.” If you’re reading this and might be interested in joining, do pop in to the shop to talk to the sisters about it or look up Ludlow Concert Band online. As someone who last played an instrument many years ago at school (double bass, which I fear was only awarded to me on account of my height rather than any inherent musical talent), I’ve felt that my musical days are long behind me but seeing the shiny multicoloured ukuleles and banjos just waiting for a new owner to cherish them, there is a little piece of me that feels tempted. What would their top tips be for someone who wants to play but isn’t sure what to go for? “Listen to what other people are playing, think about what you like listening to and if you like the look of it too,” says Amanda. “Give it a go...” Sarah nods enthusiastically. “Yes, give it a go.... Why not?”
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Douglas Albert Taylor
Guinness, a horse and refrigeration interviewed by} Jon Saxon | image} Richard Stanton – REMEMBERED – LUDLOW has never been shy of characters – characters who freely entertain locals and visitors alike. And a character as colourful as any other could frequently be found at The Charlton Arms, talking of a life’s work in refrigeration, offering his knife-sharpening services, whilst berating every landlord’s attempt at a decent pint of Guinness. It was over such an ‘okay’ pint of Guinness that I had the pleasure to chat to Douglas about working at minus 40, his uncle being hit by a tramcar, and a love for throwing grenades, for Ludlow Ledger’s sister publication: Doghouse – the British pub magazine. I would once again hear these very same tales last October, though this time told by his son-in-law at a celebration of Douglas’ life, after his sad passing. Though Douglas’s interview was re-printed in issue two of the Ledger it seemed only fitting to give it yet another sitting. -------------------------------------------WHEN I left school my father took me down to a horse stables... and they interviewed me to be a jockey. But I didn’t get that job. Then I had an interview to be a woman’s hairdresser. I didn’t get that chance. So I ended up doing refrigeration. -------------------------------------------I used to go to minus 20, without a coat on, and work there. I used to take small arms for the government down to minus 40; anti-aircraft guns down to minus 100. The anti-aircraft gun was bolted to the floor, right, and the roof used to slide open and then fire the gun out to sea in Swansea, down Gower.... fire so many
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rounds, then shut the roof, bring the temperature up, and go in and examine the gun. Because what beat the Germans in the War, was the winter in Russia – where the German guns seized up. So, after the War, then they weren’t very friendly with Russia, so we had to experiment with that, so if we argued with Russia we could fight them in their own country. -------------------------------------------I enjoyed myself throwing grenades. Pull the pin out, release the trigger, have a look to see where it lands, as you might have to go and pick it up if he doesn’t go off, and get down behind the blast wall. Alright, lovely job, until one of the boys was a cricketer. So all the boys thought, can’t wait to see his throw. If he could throw a hard cork ball, a grenade wouldn’t be anything to him. He threw it alright: it went straight up in the air and came down at his feet.... It wasn’t funny at the time. -------------------------------------------I worked in an aeroplane hangar one day, but there was no aircraft in there. There was dynamite, gunpowder, everything – the width of the room to height of this ceiling. And you’d go in there, and there was a skylight and you’d see all bits of gunpowder and God-knowswhat floating in the air. So I go in to mend a fridge. So security says: give us your matches; give us this, give us that; give us your torch; everything. So I go in now and I stripped the motor off, and put it down. And it said on the sheet: serial number and model, and so I put my hand in my pocket and brought out a match. I put it on the motor to strike it and then I remembered where I was. I didn’t stop shaking for two hours. If I’d have struck that match, it would
have been such a hole that Kidwelly would have ended up in Ireland. -------------------------------------------After the First World War my great uncle’s father bought him a horse and cart to sell coal. And, because the women didn’t have enough money he used to give the coal away. He used to give the kids a ride on his horse and cart, and when he thought the horse was tired he’d take it out the traps and carry it home: he’d get under it, lift it off its feet, and walk it back. -------------------------------------------He was strong. He used to work on the ships, painting, and nobody would work on the planks with him, because he’d dance on the planks. If you were on the plank, in the dock you’d go. He used to go swimming between the two piers winter and summer every morning, and my uncle had to go down and hold his clothes. A tramcar hit him one day. The tramcar came up the road and turned, and there was a pawnbroker’s there, with the double doors, and the tram hit him – and he took both doors off their hinges. He got up, shook himself and walked home. He was a big bloke. And he was hard. He was as gentle as anything. Nobody would take him on. But he was a gentleman. -------------------------------------------My mum was a medium. She could read people like a book. She always got it right. She used to read their fortune in the teacup, or read the palm on your hand. She told a lot of people a lot of things they didn’t want to know. -------------------------------------------I don’t know nothing about football. I don’t know nothing about cricket. I don’t know nothing about rugby. When I was at school I got picked for a football team. Some idiot kicked the ball up there, and they all ran up there. Some idiot up there kicked the ball back down, and they all run down here. I just stood in one spot. They never picked me again. -------------------------------------------Douglas featured in the third edition of Doghouse – the British pub magazine: available from doghousemagazine.co.uk.
Rob Scamp’s photo of the steps leading from Dinham Bridge
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The Bear & LMVC
Take two text} Prue Britten
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Annie Ovenden & Graham Arnold
12 May to 9 June 2018 TWENTY TWENTY GALLERY
This exhibition is in our Ludlow gallery 01584 875363 www.twenty-twenty.co.uk
MID WALES OPERA returned to the Assembly Rooms as part of their Small Stages season, with William Walton’s opera The Bear, based on Checkhov’s eponymous one-act play. This ‘trivial little vaudeville’ was well received when it was produced in 1888. Nearly 80 years later, in 1967, Walton’s opera was first performed at the Jubilee Hall, Aldeburgh. The librettist, Paul Dehn captured the mode and intent of the original play while accommodating Walton’s predilection for verse and occasional pastiche. The result is a fine, seamless union. The plot is simple. Mme Popova, after seven years, still enjoys mourning her late husband. Her manservant, Luka, suggests that this condition is good for neither body nor spirit, and implores his mistress to be done with mourning and enjoy all that is on offer in the outside world, to which she has not ventured since her husband’s death. Smirnov, a local landowner, arrives to collect a loan for oats which was taken on by Popova’s late husband. Madame is not happy to receive him, but tells him that she is unable to pay the loan until her steward returns at the end of the week. Smirnov claims that he needs the money on this very day, to avoid bankruptcy. There appears to be stalemate. In Carolyn Dobbin’s portrayal, the character and motives of Mme Popova are fully examined. Dobbin’s mezzo-soprano is inviting and voluptuous. Her vocal technique is all-encompassing and, combined with lovely timing and fine acting, makes her the full package and a delight to watch. Popova enjoys the melodrama of keening and swooning over her husband’s death and, being a romantic, entertains the prospect of going into a convent. With the aid of large measures of vodka, she resolves to mourn her husband until her own demise. Her servant Luka, the principal anchor and realist in the piece, suggests she should get out a bit. Matthew Buswell’s melodic bass brings to the role the self-effacing steadiness and reality required to keep the protagonists moving forward. As ‘the bear’, Smirnov, Adam Green brings a fine and measured baritone, an acting talent and a great sense of timing to the role. Smirnov is a typical nineteenthcentury Russian landowner. He has a patronising attitude, some dislike, distrust and fear of women. Before the proposed duel he tells himself that he must kill her, it is ‘a matter of principle’. However, when he encounters Popova’s resolve in the form of a strong woman who seems to want nothing more than to ‘put a bullet through your fat head’, he is entranced. The gentle touch of direction and design by Richard Studer gives the production levity and exuberance. The costumes are suitably opulent yet practical and the lighting design
(although not credited) is very effective. It is good to see side lighting at the Assembly Rooms – a technical aspect which adds both depth and focus to any production. The simple set works very well, principally because it is not relied upon by the three characters: these singers could cope very well in a black box. The increasing clutter of a sling, followed by bandages and finally a crutch bare testament to the increasing misuse of Luka by Smirnov, and the audience loves it. The paring down of the original chamber orchestra to five instrumentalists is both impressive and revealing. The individual players are a superb ensemble. Jonathan Lyness (piano), as Musical Director, deserves serious acclaim for his orchestration and direction. These singers bring to The Bear phenomenal vocal technique (this is not an easy score), an exceptional sense of history, time and place, coupled with an imaginative energy in response to the instrumentallydriven score. A beautiful, strong woman and a charming, gruff and gullible man – what more could we ask for? Thank you MWO. -------------------------------------------A very different evening’s entertainment was on offer at The Ludlow Methodist Church at the beginning of last November, in aid of the British Lung Foundation. The Ludlow Methodist Church is a fine building, with excellent acoustics. In contrast with Mid Wales Opera, The Ludlow Male Voice Choir, a principally amateur, untrained group of male singers, but with the combination of Bella Acapella, presented an entertaining evening of varied choral work from across the globe. The first half of the show was taken by the LMVC and consisted of several ‘standards’, including ‘Myfanwy’, ‘Hand Me down My Silver Trumpet’ and ‘All Through the Night’. These were handled with the required panache, although there were occasions when the piano accompanist, the conductor and the choir were not all of a piece. Sometimes the pianist appeared to be sight-reading and one or two of the singers seemed determined to have nothing to do with the conductor, keeping their eyes fixed firmly on the audience. However, despite the ensemble being one tenor down, the others made up any discrepancy with ease and there were no ‘blarting tenors’ (often the bane of a balanced choir). This was a curate’s egg – some fine singing, some competitiveness, some pointless and un-funny stories and several great songs. In the second half Bella Acapella (all women) were a much happier ensemble, and the MD for both groups, the talented Amy Evans, appeared to relish gathering together this mixed and exuberant bunch. ‘Kwaheri’ (Swahili, meaning ‘Goodbye’ in this East-African language) was lovely, sung with energy, determination and joy. Overall the ladies out-did the gents by a long chalk, but both are worthy of your support. You have nothing to lose, so why not join them? It was a fun, enjoyable evening in a good cause.
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Ludlow’s twelfth man
Best at recording anything but sport text} Robin Spicer
– SPORT – IN June 1974 I was working on the BBC coverage of the World Cup. We had a mobile studio connected by Deutsche Telekom to all the main grounds. Every morning we had a conference in a hotel room, to decide which matches we would cover. Decision made, commentary teams and producers would be dispatched to the chosen grounds while we would await incoming commentary. It was not a very busy job So Alan Weekes, the inventor of Match of the Day, came up with an idea – the BBC should make up a football team to take on the rest of the world. This wasn’t so reckless, since there were plenty of soccer internationals amongst our commentators ... for instance, Mike England (my particular work pal) was centre-half for Tottenham Hotspur and Wales. When asked by him, I made sure I was no more than twelfth man but, sure enough, the day came and someone fell sick.
“Robin, you’re playing,” Mike told me. I told him that I couldn’t live with such company. “Okay, we’ll put you in goal.” The opponent I saw the most of was an old-fashioned build; short, squat, a little elderly perhaps, more like a pugilist than a footballer. His name, I was told, was Ferenc Puskás. We lost the game, 5-3. I can’t claim to have actually seen any of the five shots he put past me, but I certainly heard them. A football struck at speed makes a whizzing sound in the air as it hits the back of the net. After the match we shared food and drinks, took photographs and exchanged autographs ... in my case, Spicer for Puskás. As I apologised for the goals I had conceded, those who knew better consoled me. This Puskás was the same Puskás who, in the 1950s, had masterminded the humiliating defeats of England by Hungary. It was an overturning of the world order, with a new style of football
– something to do with passing in triangles I was told. It’s worth noting that Hungary put six past the England goalkeeper at Wembley and seven back in Budapest. Puskás only got five past me. Another disaster was the Oxford and Cambridge Boat race. I went to it in the 1950s with my uncle, on the pillion of his BSA motorbike. The Oxford boat sank. In 1978, I substituted for someone who was sick (twelfth man again) which required a 5am start out east on the Thames, to pick up the referees’ launch at the Isle of Dogs. It was tipping with rain and freezing cold. I sat in the stern doing the mix, using my waterproofs to cover my kit. When the race started, the Cambridge boat sank... In 1990 I was twelfth man again and called up, located at the finish. During the race that wonderful commentator Peter Jones – someone I had worked with many times, collapsed and later died. -------------------------------------You can read more of Robin Spicer’s tales in Ledger #13. Robin spent over four decades as a BBC soundman, recording leading personalities and major events in sport, the arts, politics and light entertainment: PMs Wilson, Heath, Callaghan and Thatcher; 15 FA Cup finals and more than 50 football internationals; as well as early recording session of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones.
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If you’re still making your way through the last issue’s crossword then you had better look away now
CROSSWORD CLUES #18
What’s your Ludlow story? What was it like growing up in Ludlow? How did you end up here? What do you feel needs addressing in this town? Or perhaps an amusing story, whether old or new?
Please send your letters and emails to} Ludlow Ledger, 14 Corve Street, Ludlow, Shropshire, SY8 1DW editor@ludlowledger.co.uk
See page 10 for this issue’s crossword