In Ludlow: for want of a key, the day was lost

August 11, 2022

Southern England and Wales, like much of Western Europe, is under an extreme heat advisory for the next several days. Yesterday was hot, today will be hotter, and then the next two days will be hottest before change comes and we’re faced again with X number of cooler days with the chance of rain. For now cooler with a chance of rain sounds very attractive but we’ll see how that holds up when the time comes.

We’ve each made our plans for the day, with both involving an early start to beat the worst of the heat as we did a few weeks ago back in Hawes. Rachael has mapped out a 10-15 mile hike southwest on the Mortimer Trail, and I’ll be taking a 30 mile loop to the northeast around Brown Clees Hill. Both sound great. We set the alarm for 5:30, and after a cup of coffee and bowl of cereal I’m out the door before 6:30, beating Rachael by about two minutes on my way to the bikes which are in a hall on the ground floor outside the fire exit. We parked them there unlocked rather than muscling them up three flights of stairs, hoping they won’t get stolen and that we won’t get in trouble for leaving them in what I’m sure would be a disapproved location.

I’m only halfway down the first flight of stairs when Rachael hollers down to me - a call that almost immediately mutates into a lachrymonious wail. She’s calling me back because she suddenly realized she can’t find her water bottle, assumes it’s on her bike, and can’t remember where we’ve left them.

The wail is because she almost instantly realizes that she’s forgotten to bring the key outside with her. The door locks shut, with the key on the other side along with nearly everything else we care about. We’re screwed.

While we’re sitting on the stairs considering our few options, I remember the last time something like this happened: In Toro three years ago, when we stepped out for dinner and realized almost instantly that we’d just locked ourselves out for the night from our unattended hotel.

It’s nice to be reminded of that memorable evening, which I’d totally forgotten about. It’s not enough compensation though for ruining the day’s plans. It’s only 6:30, but we call (no answer), text (no response) and then send a message through Booking to our host pleading for help. And then we settle in on the stairwell waiting for a response, with not much to entertain ourselves: one cell phone, my camera, and each other’s company.

The view north from the stairwell window.

It’s nice that a jackdaw happened by for a bit of variety.

Rachael’s shoes are on the other side of the door, so when she had a need to step out the door she borrowed mine. The shoe fit, with room to spare.

It takes two hours before we know what the plan for our rescue is. The news when it comes isn’t particularly good. The only locally accessible keys are with the housekeeper, who is slow to respond to our host’s message. Once she’s finally heard from, we learn that the housekeeper does not live in town, has kids to be managed, wasn’t planning to come to town today but will make a special trip in just for us, but won’t be here until noon or so. So we won’t have access to our room and anything we don’t already have with us until midday.

We could leave and find a cafe to hang out in someplace, but we only have one pair of shoes between us because Rachael rushed out the door barefoot. The first order of business then is to find her a pair of flip flops or other cheap footwear, so I head out on a shopping excursion. Not much is open yet - the Spar and the first booths of the farmers market just setting up, neither of which helps. Once a few things start opening their doors I get lucky and find a nice set of second hand bright cherry red tennis shoes at a thrift store for only 6 quid. And they’re size 7, which as I remember is just Rachael’s size.

The farmers market is just setting up. That blue building is ours, and our room, if we could get into it, is behind those three windows on the top floor.

It’s not even nine yet, and the castle isn’t open yet.

Ludlow is quite a beautiful little place, with streets lined with well preserved centuries old houses.

I misremembered, as she points out when I return with them. She’s a 7-1/2, but in a pinch they’ll do. She’s never felt so liberated by a pair of shoes, she says. She squeezes in, we collect our few accessible belongings - a phone and my wallet - and head out to look for breakfast. We find a good one almost right next door, at Aragons. We each order excellent omelets and toast, the coffee’s great, and they’re fine with us hanging out for the next three hours. Once we’ve done with breakfast we take turns walking around - I explore town a bit, then Rachael in her turn finds a book at a thrift store foe another 1£ and goes shopping hoping she’ll find a replacement for a shirt she’d lost.

Aragons, a very nice place that’s happy for us to hang out for three hours.

The Angel, the restaurant we’ll be eating at tonight.

At the head of Broad Street is the Buttercross, the old town hall built in 1746 and now the town museum.

Inside 12th century Saint Lawrence’s Church. It’s Coffee Thursday, and the foyer is filled with booths, fund raisers for preservation of the church.

Warming up for a concert due to start soon.

A recorder quartet! I could have stayed to listen longer, but it’s Rachael’s turn.

At 12:15 our little drama comes to a close. we’re informed that the cleaning lady has arrived, retrieved our keys, and placed them in our lockbox. We leave Aragons and head for our room.

We’re in! Rachael proudly shows off her new-to-her disposable shoes and book, which together set us back 7 quid. Her outfit goes well with the paint job, the shoes adding a bit of flair.

Seemed like we should preserve the text chain with our host as part of the historical record.

That shoots the plan for the day though. It’s 85 by now, too hot for either of us to have interest in a ride or hike. We spend the afternoon in the apartment sitting in front of the fan trying to stay cool, reading, napping, waiting for dinner.

Fish dinner (swordfish for me, sea bass for Rachael) at The Angel is great, one of my favorite meals of the tour. And it’s a fascinating place to just sit and look around at the decor and listen to the Nat King Cole playbook wash over the room. Rachael would have enjoyed it more though if it wasn’t so hot. We’re both perspiring and ready to get outside again by the time we’re done. I should have taken some food photos, but the decor was what most caught my attention.

It’s pleasant when we step outside. Cooler, there’s a bit of a breeze. Certainly more comfortable than up in our room, so Rachael heads up to grab the iPads and we sit on a bench outside until sundown. In the end, not such a terrible use of the day. We were due for a rest day anyway.

A few more photos of a place I’d be fine with returning to someday, when it’s not so hot.

Broadgate, the only one remaining of the town’s original seven gates.

The ornate building on the left is The Feathers, from 1610. So named because the facade apparently includes feathers for the Prince of Wales, though I’m not seeing them.

Interesting shadows and windows of light on the Feathers though.

Figureheads from the Conduit, a water supply point established in 1581.

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	13
Comment on this entry	Comment	7

Suzanne GibsonTerrible situation! But it could have been worse, like if you didn't have a cell phone with you! And it seems you had a bit of money, also a help.
Hope the heat lets up soon. We are home now and out of the heat wave. 22C is feeling kind of chilly.
Reply to this comment
2 years ago

Keith AdamsAll's well that ends back indoors eventually.
Reply to this comment
2 years ago

Graham FinchI see you hit a charity shop - thrift store. It may become a habit.
Reply to this comment
2 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Graham FinchCould be, but unlikely. I’m not much of a shopper. Food, beer, transportation, replacing broken cameras and lost glasses. That’s about it.
Reply to this comment
2 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Suzanne GibsonWe’ve survived way worse, but we are ready for a break from coming up with good story material. We’re ready for a sting of boring, normal days.
Reply to this comment
2 years ago

Jen RahnURD: Unintentional Rest Day.

Good for the body and particularly excellent for building those adversity acceptance muscles!
Reply to this comment
2 years ago

Rachael AndersonTo Jen RahnYou sure have a way with words! You always make me feel better. Thanks.
Reply to this comment
2 years ago