This morning my early stroll took me around the outside of the castle - lovely views stretching across the Shropshire countryside. At 11:30 we took off for Stokesay Castle.

Stokesay is a fortified manor house pretty much the same as it was in the late 13th century. It was built by Lawrence of Ludlow, a wool merchant. It has a big moat which is now a lovely floral walk around it. We naturally took the audio guide. Our journey was narrated by Mrs Stockhouse Acton who, in 1850 initiated the preservation of Stokesay by urging the then owner (Lord Craven) to repair the buildings. I assume it was actually an actress as the real Mrs A would be nearing 250 years old by now.

Mrs A was a bit of an amateur archaeologist and antiquarian, and wrote lots of books. She loved Stokesay and was pretty much the person to thank for what we see today. Thanks also must go to JD Allcroft who bought Stokesay in 1869 and carried out many repairs. He wanted to preserve the building for the future and worked on it until his death in 1893. His son then took up the reigns and eventually is mother, Lady Magnus Allcroft, handed the building over to English Heritage, who look after it now.

Although it is fortified, the only action it ever saw was during the Civil War when a troop of parliamentarian soldiers passed it on the way to Ludlow. The parliamentarian troop drew up to Stokesay and asked for the surrender of Captain Dauret, the royalist commander at the house but he refused. The troops drew a bit closer and once more asked. Captain Dauret said "Ok, sounds good" and not a shot was fired.

For 150 years the place was used by farmers to graze and house their cows! It's quite amazing that the place IS still in such a great state of repair. But it is. After you pay your fee, you can walk all over it. Actually, Mirinda even made it to the top of the tower - something she doesn't normally do.

Next to Stokesay is the Church of St John the Baptist (my first church this trip) founded in the 12th century - so before the castle - and rebuilt in the 17th century. Oddly enough, the original church was burned down during the Civil War when Stokesay Castle remained untouched. Odd indeed.

Being rebuilt after the war, it is a rare example of Cromwellian and early restoration church architecture. Which probably explains why it's quite foreboding. Stern scriptures painted on the walls admonish anyone foolish enough to read them. The pews are in boxes and the main ones, closest to the altar, therefore closer to God, have roofs as well as walls. In fact Mirinda sat in one and you couldn't see her from the rest of the church. She could, however, see the pulpit. The front-most box belonged to the Baldwyn's who owned Stokesay at the time that the church was rebuilt. The plebs sat in the back.

We left the church, noting the freemason's grave near the 1929 lychgate, collected Sidney and left for Presteigne in Radnorshire. We were off to see the Judge's Lodging. It was a lovely drive through what we thought was Wales with just a momentary squabble about my navigation and feminist ideals. Eventually we found the sleepy little…town…of Presteigne.

According to the town's website, Presteigne is "Surrounded by devastatingly beautiful, unspoilt countryside, this thriving border town has many unique qualities that make it both a perfect destination and a base from which to explore. Set alongside the river Lugg, at the corner of the three counties of Shropshire, Herefordshire and Powys, it is within a short drive from [sic] Hay on Wye, Hereford, Ludlow and Shrewsbury." You can't really say much more than that!

After parking in the police station we decided we had to eat so we scouted the main street only to find one option, Emily's Tea Rooms and Restaurant. Actually there was also the Hat Shop Restaurant but they stopped serving food at 2pm - it was 2pm - so it was Emily who received our trade.

Now I missed this but according to Mirinda, the waitress was quite rude and dismissive except when dealing with friends and relatives. What I didn't miss was the fact that they didn't have any ketchup or the fact she seemed mystified that anyone would even think of asking for any. She did have vinegar however. Apparently I said thank you a number of times to which she just snarled. The food was fine - well to be honest Mirinda complained about the chips with her scampi - we left as soon as we'd finished. The service was so bad that Mirinda insisted I pay the bill. Now we have a deal, I settle the bill in restaurants and pubs but teashops are her responsibility. She'd left the building before I could argue this point. I just paid.

After our run in with Emily, it was with a welcome relief that we discovered the staff at the Judge's Lodging were very helpful and friendly.

It's an odd little museum. It was a combination lodging house for the circuit judges, police holding cell and court room. It replaced an older group of buildings which were sadly inadequate. For instance, the original courtroom had the bottom floor changed into a garage for the town fire engine which weakened the building so much that whenever the court was in session, the engine would have to be evacuated and the floor supported on big beams, and this only after an engineer said it would be fine to knock through the wall in the first place.

Anyway, the new building was completed in August 1829. At the first Great Session a man was sentenced to death for stealing a horse and a clothing thief was transported for 14 years. I think he set up the original Vincent de Paul in the Rocks but don't quote me on that.

So we wandered around the building with the aid of an old style cassette tape audio guide. We were transported to the mid 1800s by various characters. The first one is some guy - I can't remember who or what he was - followed by Robert Hardy (Siegfried in All Creatures Great and Small) as Mr Venables, a maid, the cook and a copper. The commentary was excellent and very well done. We wandered through the judges accommodation rooms and then down into the kitchen, the cells and finally back up to the court room.

One of the truly amazing things about the Judge's Lodging was the decision, when restoring the building, to reinstall the original gas lighting in the rooms below stairs. They give a real glimpse into the conditions at the time. The smell, the hissing and the constant flickering would have been quite odd at first. Apparently when one of the judges was asked if he'd like the new fangled gas lighting upstairs, he said "I don't trust it. Try it out on the staff downstairs first." Nice.

I have since discovered that both of my parents lived in houses with gas lighting when they were children. Oh how they chuckled in recognition of the hissing and the flickering light.

Lord Chief Justice Campbell in 1855 said of the building "The most commodious and elegant apartments for a judge in all England and Wales."

It was a lovely experience and I recommend it to anyone who just happens to find themselves in the county of Radnorshire. Incidentally, Radnorshire is neither English or Welsh. It squats across the two and denies belonging to any exclusive country.

Before we leave the Judge's Lodging, let us spare a thought for poor Mary Morgan - her grave stone is downstairs in the museum. In September 1804, at the age of 16, she gave birth to an illegitimate child. She was an under cook at Maeslwch Castle and had been excused from work that day as she was feeling unwell. Having gone through the rigours of labour and childbirth, she then killed the infant by trying to decapitate it with a penknife.

At her trial, for infanticide, she was given the death sentence. At the time it was normal for people convicted of infanticide to be sentenced to death which would then be immediately commuted to either life imprisonment or transportation. However, for reasons much speculated but not explained, Mary's death sentence was carried out.

The trial and sentence caused quite a stir in Presteigne. Not that having a child out of wedlock was of any stigma at the time. In fact any fertile female at the time was more or less guaranteed a marriage as the rural population always needed shoring up. As late as 1839, 15% of all births in Radnorshire were illegitimate.

There was something much more sinister with regards Mary's execution, which was carried out at noon on Saturday 13 April 1805 at the appropriately named Gallows Lane. Some sources claim it was because of the mad judge Hardinge who seemed to take a pathological delight in the death sentence while others claim it had something to do with her employer. I guess no-one will ever know. Suffice to say that a rather verbose and sanctimonious stone was erected over her grave by the Earl of Ailesbury, a friend of the judge. It was replaced by the much nicer stone bearing the words "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her" some time after Hardinge's death (1816). Another mystery rears its head though - no-one knows who bought or erected the new stone.

But enough jolly rural stories, we were off to visit the garden and nursery at Lingen. But JUST before we did, we snapped a picture of the smallest house in...well just about anywhere I reckon! Here it sat, squished up between two full sized ones. Honestly! This is the house...all of it. Mid-terrace with a vengeance.

Back on the road and through lovely countryside we drove, down country lanes, generally admiring the scenery, noting the NGS sign that pointed off towards Bryan's garden. When we finally arrived at the Lingen nursery we parked, locked the car and wandered over to the big gates, which were securely locked and barred with the sign 'The nursery is now closed' in big friendly non-serif letters. We laughed, returned to the car and decided, instead, to visit Bryan's garden.

Now Bryan's garden is amazing! I think Bryan is a bit of a Peter Greenaway fan. As you wander through the various garden 'rooms' little strange sculptures suddenly appear, some with Roman numerals beside them. Mirinda managed to find lots of ideas for our own garden including the iron bed frame with the meadow growing in the middle of it, flattened by, I assumed, the Labrador of the house. And the timber framed areas full of plant life.

It was a lovely garden without too much symmetry, something I can't abide, and we spent a pleasant three quarters of an hour wandering around. Finally, as Bryan's garden was closing, we headed back for the cottage.

One of the big things we had intended to do while in Ludlow was to dine at Mr Underhill's. This is the remaining Michelin starred restaurant in town (there used to be two) and highly recommended by Mirinda's boss, Peter. To this end, we rang in order to book. Mirinda managed to talk to an answering machine, leaving our details and the booking we wanted to make. We had no response all day and night. They are only open Wednesday to Saturday but you'd think someone would check the phone. So, instead, I cooked that old Chez Gaz staple, Pork & Fennel, which, because I was cooking in an alien kitchen, tasted completely different. Still, it was ok