We thought we were going to the land of Worcestershire sauce. It turned out that what Worcester really wants to tell you about is Edward Elgar. The composer of Land of Hope and Glory grew up around here and has a good big statue in the city centre. I didn't take a photo of that one, so here we are gazing soulfully at the Malvern Hills, instead.
I had spent my time off at Easter and Spring Bank redecorating and shifting furniture around for new carpets. Two bedrooms now looked a lot better, and it was time for a proper holiday. So, on the hottest May bank holiday ever, we were in Worcester. I was afraid it would be packed.
However, all the sensible people had gone to the seaside. We easily got seats for lunch at Good Roots cafe (which was larger than I expected, too). After an enjoyable brunch we wandered down to the River Severn, where a man with a ferry boat was waiting to take us across to the other side. He rowed, we paid 50p each. A good deal.
We followed a rough approximation of the Worcester Heritage Walk around the city, then dived thankfully into the cool cathedral. There was carved wood and carved stone and stained glass and painted organ pipes and gothic arches and the tomb of King John and a font with doors and a vast round chapter house and a beautiful cloister garden with mint and lavender. A feast for all the senses.
Elgar's birthplace was just a short drive away. It is owned by the National Trust which meant we could get in for free, so I prevailed on the rest of the family to drop in for half an hour. It was a tiny cottage in a peaceful spot. I learned that Elgar taught himself music at his father's music shop and loved to take a new score out into the fields to read through it. My favourite story was that he once blew up a water butt.
We were staying in Bewdley, a village further up the River Severn. Our house faced the water. It was Georgian, with massive low beams (Toby had to mind his head), stone floors, and an eclectic kitchen. We liked it a lot.
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| view from the front door |
The next day was even hotter. For the full African experience, we went to the West Midlands Safari Park to see lions, giraffes, elephants, rhinos, and hippos, in what must have felt like their natural habitat. Although probably, as most zoo animals are bred in captivity, they were as hot and sweaty as we were.
After the 90-minute safari drive, we paid an extortionate price for iced drinks and declared that they were worth every penny. There is plenty to walk around, too; we liked the bat cave and the giant snakes. By 1pm we were ready to melt and most of the animals were taking their siestas. We went to do the same ourselves.
We surfaced again in the evening to stroll around Bewdley. The train station belongs to the Severn Valley heritage railway and was suitably quaint. Along the river were the piers of a branch line bridge that no longer exists. The road bridge was built by Thomas Telford.
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| road bridge |
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| former railway bridge |
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| moon over the Severn |
Next morning we investigated the Bewdley Museum. Bewdley used to be a major port on the River Severn - the docks were just outside our house - so it has plenty of history. The exhibits were mostly in a kind of open-air arcade, leading onto a park at the far end. An unusual arrangement for a museum.
We had lunch at the Riverside Cafe, then drove to the Wyre Forest for a shady walk. It wasn't quite as spectacular as the safari park, but we saw some local wildlife. A deer stepped out in front of us and didn't seem in any hurry to run away. Then Toby spotted a frog on the path. We weren't impressed by this sign, which told us we'd finished the trail when we were still half a mile from the visitor centre, though.
That was the end of our few days away. But with the heat, the beautiful surroundings, and the exotic animals, it felt as if we had been a lot further away than Worcestershire. Definitely a proper holiday.
We never did find any Worcestershire sauce. But it is still made in Worcester at a rate of 7 million litres a year! The BBC had a look inside, if you're interested.
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