Ludlow

 

The first thing we stumbled on when we arrived in town was an old spooky neglected graveyard near a charming, rain-stained stone church. Unfortunately, the church had been turned into a copy shop. It was a pretty tragic scene, with people making copies in the church and invasive ivy overrunning the graves. But it was also beautiful in a sad sort of way, the green, mossy tombstones all crooked and falling over, the boggy ground unable to hold them straight. There were birds everywhere in the yews and cedars and holly trees, and in the distance there were gentle hills–and the castle. Ludlow Castle. The sky was orange with black clouds (it was a very dramatic sky), and the tombstones were tilting this way and that, and some had fallen over completely and were buried in a tangle of plumed grasses and wild roses (bare now but for thorns and tomato-orange hips). The old, forgotten cemetery was such a romantic, gothic place, with its birdsong and mist and tipsy tombstones and, best of all, a medieval castle in the background!

 

We spent a freezing cold afternoon exploring the town and then we ate at Ye Olde Bull Ring Tavern, which, we read, “is the oldest existing public house in Ludlow,” built in the 1400s. It was a very homey, cozy place, with ancient dark paneling and holey, soft, comfortably worn couches arranged around a fireplace. We were the only people eating. I got vegetable soup, chips with malt vinegar, and fried mushrooms, and Rob had a “vegetable bake” that looked so good–broccoli, carrots, and potatoes baked in a rich, creamy cheese sauce. It was so much fun, eating all that nice hot food in that cozy pub as the cold wind blew outside. The ceiling was held up by ancient, dark exposed beams, and the lighting was really low, so the place was full of shadows. Locals came in and just chatted with the bartender and didn’t order anything. It was that kind of low-key, friendly place.