Today we went to Trowbridge. It’s in Wiltshire, beyond Stonehenge. We went to look at sheds. In order to see what type of sheds, I took a photo of one.
This is the expensive one that Mirinda was instantly attracted to.
We spent a lovely hour or so chatting to Jude about our requirements for a garden room. This is the alternative to the mega-expensive extension to the house. We are going to purchase a garden room and turn it into a library/Mirinda’s study. Well, that’s the current thinking. I measured the width of the garden (in the dark) when we returned home so Jude could do us some initial thoughts and ideas.
The buildings are amazing. Very sturdy, completely weather proof, just like an extra room in the house but just outside the house. The plan is to get rid of the overbearing hornbeam and put the room across the garden, creating a sort of courtyard area in between and the rest of the garden beyond.
Afterwards we popped across the road to the Black Horse for a gourmet burger (I’ve noticed a lot of pubs now selling gourmet burgers which, as far as I can make out, are normal burgers with things added, like cheese or bacon…not sure how that makes it particularly gourmet) and a pint of Old Trip, which the barmaid called Old Tripe the other day causing great mirth and general hilarity. Regardless of what she said the other day, the burger was delicious, the beer was great and Mirinda’s cider very pink, very sweet and very odd. it was multi-fruit cider. I couldn’t drink it. The smell was sweet enough. Actually I did have a brave sip but it was way too sweet.
We decided not to turn round and go all the way home at once as it would be a bit rude to go all that way and not visit Trowbridge itself.
It’s a bit sad, I’m afraid. I could see little reason to live there. The place is clone central and surmounted by shopping centres. The park is all square and dull. The war memorial is fenced off and padlocked. The traffic is terrible, though to be fair, the traffic is terrible in every town in this country.
If you get the impression that I wasn’t that impressed with Trowbridge…you’re right. I did read that it had some lovely architecture, which it does, but it’s hard to find among the sameness of modern shopping. It upsets me that people seem to love this dullness everywhere.
I counted two independent shops in the pedestrianised centre of Trowbridge: one was empty, the other closed. I guess the people get what the people want most. Everywhere the same, staffed by bored kids or OAPs supplementing their pensions, wearing uniforms that generally make them look ridiculous. Where is the beauty in that? No wonder people shop online. The experience is now so soul destroying it’s best avoided in case your heart freezes from the experience.
So we had a very brief wander through Trowbridge and then back to Sidney. The one highlight was this sign which I was very drawn too.
Oh, and some guy asked me to sell him a cigarette for 20p. Mirinda wanted to know why he asked me and took this photograph asking if I look like a smoker. To be fair, I have been mistaken for a drug dealer before.
Something I’ve noticed about Linda is that she loves round-about routes. Getting home from Trowbridge was no exception. (I really must learn how to make her work properly.) Though, perhaps she just adapts to our moods. Trowbridge left us feeling a bit dull and mindless so she decided we needed some uplifting. She took us via Westbury so we could see the white horse carved in the hill.
She took us on a lovely tour of most of Wiltshire, finally lifting up our hearts as we cruised by Stonehenge. Then the sun went down. It was a long, dark journey the rest of the way home and the poodles went manic when we reached it.
Quite a successful day really, if you ignore Trowbridge.