Woolly says – Waking up to minus seven temperatures isn’t fun, as I waited for the heating to start warming the place up and my tusks to lose the icicles, I snuggled back under the covers leaving the human to sort out breakfast and prepare for our day out. By the time we climbed into the car a strong winter sun had appeared which although warming meant that Jo had to drive with one hand over her eyes to stop from being blinded. The four and half miles of single track roads that lead us to a main thoroughfare were icy, so progress was slow but at least the car was toastie inside.
Our route took from Wales to Engand, back into Wales, back to England with a final two miles in Wales before heading back into England once more, you have to love the wiggly borders between the two countries. We arrived in Clun which sounds Welsh but isn’t and parked up.
Clun is a town in south west Shropshire, research by the Campaign for the Protection of Rural England suggests that Clun is one of the most tranquil locations in England, this was supported by the book A Shropshire Lad by A. E. Housman who wrote the verse: “Clunton and Clunbury,/ Clungunford and Clun,/ Are the quietest places/ Under the sun.” It certainly looked very peaceful as we crossed the footbridge over the river Clun after which the town is named and headed towards the castle. I was slightly startled as we rounded a bend and found ourselves confronted by a huge bank with no sign of a castle when I was sure I’d seen a castle during my research.
A footpath led us upwards and having puffed and panted our way up we rounded a corner and much to my joy saw the castle perched on a small mound.
Clun Castle is a medieval castle and was established by the Norman lord Robert de Say after the Norman invasion of England and went on to become an important Marcher lord castle in the 12th century. Owned for many years by the Fitzalan family, Clun played a key part in protecting the region from Welsh attack until it was gradually abandoned as a property in favour of the more luxurious Arundel Castle. The Fitzalans converted Clun Castle into a hunting lodge in the 14th century, complete with pleasure gardens, but by the 16th century the castle was largely ruined. Slighted in 1646 after the English Civil War, Clun remained in poor condition until renovation work in the 1890s. Sadly there wasn’t a great deal left of it, but this didn’t deter us from the last steep incline.
A couple of walls remain one of which on closer inspection revealed that it had once been a tower, the Grand Hall however still had some substance to it with its glassless windows providing an excellent view across the Shropshire countryside.
With the castle seen and a biting wind picking up we started our descent with Alfie the Dog choosing to take the bank route instead of the path which then involved Jo trying to inch her way down to him as he couldn’t get back up on his own, it was a sight to behold but I don’t think my carer was too impressed with my laughter given the cold stare she gave me on regaining the path again.
We wandered across the area where the gardens would have once bloomed and had a quick peep at the river which the mutt happily slurped at until being removed.
Back over the footbridge I raced towards the 14th-century pack horse bridge that crosses the river connecting Saxon Clun to Norman Clun and has given rise to a local saying: “whoever crosses Clun Bridge comes back sharper than he went”, I wasn’t sure if this related to knives, pencils or my mind but I was happy to find out and having waited for a line of cars to cross we headed over taking a quick look at the river view.
The town centre and square were tiny but had an imposing town hall with a sweet clock on the top.
Further along the road we walked past a number of lovely buildings and houses including a farmhouse that would have once been separated from the residents of the town but now appeared to be one of its central points.
With the human moaning that she was cold it seemed like a good time to stop and make use of the towns café which boasted a roaring log fire to sit and warm by as we shared coffee and toasted teacakes. Warmed to the core we set off back over the pack bridge and towards the church which was easy to find as the war memorial was proudly displaying its poppies.
Clun grew up around the site of the Anglo-Saxon church towards the end of the 7th century and St George’s Church, still includes Norman columns, the entire church apart from the tower was rebuilt extensively by the Victorian architect G. E. Street in 1877. It was a long flat looking church with a rather squat tower to the rear,
we wandered through the heavily populated graveyard to get a better look at the tower finding some commonwealth graves at the same time.
Having circumnavigated the exterior, we took a moment to admire the entrance to the church before stepping inside. Large arches sat down middle section with a wonderful wooden ceiling above.
The walls had all sorts of interesting plagues and memorials including a list of the towns incumbents which was something we hadn’t come across before.
The wooden pews faced a fairly plain altar with a beautifully carved lectern to one side. It was a nice church but very very cold on the paws having seen all it had to offer we set off back to the car park for our journey back which should be a lot easier with the blinding sunlight as the sun had now disappeared behind some thick dark grey clouds.