The area through which I was walking today was almost flat, with only gentle undulations, farmland growing grain, rape or hay, a few cows. My route was along the edge of large fields, by farms, on quiet roads and some more busy ones with cars speeding by. Overcast early on, later the clouds broke up revealing patches of blue and the sun which lit up the pink campion on the roadside and brought my hat out.
My first historic site was the ruin of the White Ladies Priory. Dating from the 12th century the white ladies were the nuns who dedicated their lives to God here. A few walls and round Norman arches survive, the nuns are long since gone. I followed a grass path into my next site, Boscobel House. I entered via the back gate, a sign attached to it said a ticket was required, so I went to buy one. A man in period "yokel" costume told me I could not have one, all tickets must be pre booked, no doubt a Coronavirus measure to avoid overcrowding. After telling me I should not have entered he told me to leave. A lady confirmed that all pre-booked tickets had been sold as it was a bank holiday weekend. I exited a little sad that I had not visited the tea room before enquiring about purchasing a ticket.
My route since the Severn Gorge had been mainly on the Monarch's Way, a long distance path which follows the route taken by the future Charles II as he escaped after the final defeat of the Royalist cause in the English Civil War. He had many adventures and narrow escapes on his journey including hiding in an oak tree from parliamentary forces. Before being ejected from the grounds of Boscobel House I had a look at the oak tree. Not the original one which has long since died but a replacement, itself looking a bit decrepit. Later I crossed the Shropshire Union Canal and joined the Staffordshire Way, another long distance path. Shortly after the canal I looked in at the church at Lapley. Although not officially open the cleaners generously let me look inside and proudly told me its foundation predated the doomsday book. The present building dates from the 11th or 12th century, its decor is plain but with some large old wooden boards on which for example the ten commandments are written. One of the boards summarises the donations made by a Richard Willson of the parish in 1622. I gave thanks to God and the cleaners before leaving. A little way later I crossed the A5, the Roman Watling Street.
Arriving at the small town of Penkridge I headed for my hotel. I was surprised to hear a live band playing in the recreation ground next door given Covid restrictions. Taking a look there did not seem that many people around, maybe as this was a socially distanced event with limited ticket numbers (or else the cover versions being sung did not appeal). Thinking that on a bank holiday Saturday all the eating venues in town were likely to be full, I picked up some food at the Coop and ate it watching Michael Palin visiting places in Hungary I had visited on a earlier walk.
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