It was only 12 months ago, that I would have instinctively booked some aeroplane tickets for our usual autumn jaunt. Last year, we were wandering around the boulevards of Lviv and enjoying the Indian summer. I was eagerly awaiting my attendance at the Lviv derby to add to collection of Eastern European footballing obscurities. My spies in Moscow tell me that the weather is once again unseasonably warm in that part of the world, but what was once a normal aspiration is no longer possible. I set my sights on something closer to home, but somewhat more exotic than my recent trip to Ponte Carlo.
TFB is following the science, or so he claims and was on the verge of introducing a tier system of risk to be given to each part of the country. There are whole swathes of the country, that are seeing varying degrees of more stringent measures. A quick check therefore ruled out the North East, the North West and the West Midlands as destination options. Merseyside was the key hot spot to be avoided and both the Welsh and Scottish governments were actively discouraging visitors from any cross border jaunts. Bristol and the South West
were generally keeping COVID rates lower than the rest of England, so that seemed a plan. We can all follow the science. I therefore find myself in deepest Gloucestershire in search of some real football.
The traffic was building up on the outskirts of Stroud town centre, but it was nothing to do with a football match. The main London Road had been pedestrianised to allow for extra social distancing space at the Saturday market and traffic diverted away. The proximity to the masses exiting the local Waitrose car park added to the chaos. We skirted round in search of a place to Park the car. A fortuitous space appeared on the street on the steep hill just above the Police Station. Stroud it seems, has plenty of hills. The local building stone is pleasing to the eye, but the home of law enforcement in Stroud was an ugly concrete block. It was contrast to the fine, art deco, launderette across the street. The former it dates from 1931 and is now occupied by Soap n Suds. This area is known as The Cross, but no Cross was evident. The remains were totally removed by a
runaway truck in the 1940s. A stone ram statue across the road was no substitute. The premier local dog Grooming parlour, Ruff n Ready, was closed for the weekend, so the pooches of town would have to go without their last minute makeover. They offer spa treatments for any age and breed of dog apparently. The canine crew of Stroud certainly know to live. We descended on to the High Street, where the first business to catch my eye was the local record shop. They were not Northern prices, so it was a short diversion. The Other Half decided to check out the nearby book shop, but became frustrated by the new shopping protocols of limiting customer numbers into shops. She gave up.
We turned off down Union Street. The market was in full swing. The London Road section of the market was much less busy. Footfall was limited. I spied what I thought was the War Memorial - an interesting one with a clock as a centrepiece. It turned out not to be the War Memorial after all. The Sims Clock in February 1921, as a result of a bequest by a Stroud wine and spirit
merchant, William Thomas Sim , who died in 1917. It was originally intended to be the towns War Memorial, but subsequently another Memorial was erected in the Park Gardens. Sims Clock stands where there was once a drinking trough for the towns horses. The nearby Subscription Rooms definitely deserve a mention. Tuscan columns and a balustraded balcony adorn the front of the 1833 Cotswold stone building. The building looks like a sort of grand Town Hall - it is currently owned by the Local Authority and used as an entertainment centre. The Beatles apparently once played there, although I suspect the residents of Stroud remember the occasion more than they do.
