We went to Shrewsbury, to the Kings Head pub, a beautiful ancient place jutting out into the streets, where we met Rick Phillips, the man who had catered our dinner. We have been so lucky in our friends here. All of them have been wonderful beyond belief.
Across the street at J.C. Pickering Toy Store we did our only real bike related thing, we found Heather a headlamp for her bike. It was a quaint toy shop filled with wondrous toys and an antique old man running it without recourse to electronics and quietly mourning his lack of sons to whom he could pass on his business.
From downtown Shrewsbury we meandered along a strange route, chosen by my father, who refuses to believe he is going in the wrong direction. Hence we were privileged to see new parts of Shrewsbury; the wealthy quarter, the prison; the toll bridge in the center of town...
Finally we found our road and made our way out of town towards Stokesay Castle. We had picked Audrey and Den’s grandchildren up from a vacation bible school earlier and so they accompanied us. Stokesay is a gorgeous old structure, unable to decide whether to be a large house or small castle.
I managed to find it's beauty in the strangest out of the way places: the remnant circles left by ancient barrels in the storehouse, the back of the slate roof, the wooden pegs on the wooden slats that had shelted Stokesay’s owners for unknown years. 
The boys, Sam and Tom Phillips, bought wooden swords as though Stokesay had played an important part in bygone wars instead of surrendering immediately the only time it was confronted with hostility.
Eventually we came back to Parkgate and sat down for dinner, followed by a lively discussion on the merits of hereditary authority. Before bed Heather and I were treated to a viewing of Dennis’s paintings.
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