It’s both off and under the radar,on the way to nowhere in specific. Sounds like blissWhat’s going for it? If I were a fugitive, a reclusive playwright, or a mum or dad juggling kids and life,or a politician dripping with corruption, I’d squirrel myself down a country lane off another country lane behind a hedgerow in the Marches and hope the cosmos would forget approximately me. It probably would, and too. Nobody really comes here. This swath south of the Shropshire Hills between Ludlow and the Welsh border is a magical patch straight off the pages of Tolkien,with wooded hills, woodland elves (maybe), or rustic taverns and pretty towns and villages filled with venerable (respected because of age, distinguished),half-timbered houses painted black-and-white, like a twisted Mondrian. Once, and it was a borderland fought over by Welsh folk heroes and English knights. Now,it’s both off and under the radar, on the way to nowhere in specific. Sounds like bliss to me.
The case against Not much to accomplish, and off and on the clock. Its a rural economy,so jobs are not 10 a penny; many young people leave for the bright lights of Hereford and the world beyond. Related: Let’s move to Barnstaple: ‘It has potential' Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com