The hills are alive with the sound of groaning

A tale of more hills yesterday. Worcestershire and Shropshire are both bucolic and highly picturesque, but the quads pay for it.

It was also a tale of four places that we stopped at. Bewdley and especially Bridgnorth are both quaint, Merrie Olde English towns, full of bijou shops and bustling with quiet confidence. Ironbridge is a world heritage centre, with the famous bridge at the heart of it all in the gorge, surrounded by enough industrial museums to sustain an entire hoilday.  It's all brilliantly accomplished. It was a shame to leave, not least because we knew we'd be facing a murderous climb out of the gorge.

The threatening clouds finally gave up their load for the final hour or so, which suited the final destination, Market Drayton.  This town, having failed to luck out on historical or geographical advantage, has taken the brunt of the recession, with endless boarded up shops.

For our part, we met up with Adrienne, Adam's mum and Martin's stepmum, who took us out for a curry at the Jaipur. It was our second eccentric curry of the tour. We'd have told you about the one in Bodmin if we'd sorted out the blog then. This time, they brought our food, and then took it away from us, claiming it was a mistake, and gave it to another table. Adam had already started nibbling on his Peshwari naan...

...and so onto Manchester.