It was a cold, windy, drizzly day, but we set off mid-morning and drove over to the village of Stockbridge, nestled in a valley below Danbury Hill. The town’s main street was crowded with cars and people, but we found a park and went for a stroll up the high street. The town was a mecca of quaint shops with names like J&S Styles Cut Flowers, Wet Fish, Fruits and Veggies, Stockbridge Peking, and NJ Stokes – all types of household and electrical goods, plus terracotta pots. The toilets bore a sign which read, Wheelchairs and Ladies.
But just a few metres back from the busy main street, the houses gave way to lush water meadows, where a quiet river flowed through fields of buttercups, and grass and willows trailed their branches in the water.
Back in Upper Clatford, we had lunch at the pub, then drove out to Old Wardour Castle. It was a very wet and grey afternoon, but this seemed to add to the austere atmosphere of the old ruined castle. We explored the ramparts and tried to imagine the lives of the people who had trod the stone rooms and courtyards. After an hour or so, we drove to an abandoned school called All Saints, an imposing stone building where the only sounds echoing through the halls is that of ravens and the wind. It was drizzling heavily by now, so we didn’t linger long and drove back to Upper Clatford.
CurseOfTheTraveller 