Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 17 degrees, warm, sunny and slightly overcast.
Exercising and skipping early, it is a beautiful day. The sun is shining, and the sky is blue with a few clouds.
I watered the lawn and tidied up around the path. With the new turf laid on Thursday, my mother’s back garden looks really special.
I have also started the habit of lighting two incense sticks and placing them at opposite ends of the garden whenever I am working out or doing something in the back garden. On a nice day, with a bit of sun and the aroma of incense, it truly is quite lovely.
I also bought crypto in the morning, even after the halving on the 21st of last month. Bitcoin has increased very little, while the other coins have fallen significantly, resulting in a loss across my entire portfolio.
Many people might worry, but I believe it is only temporary, and within the next few years, all cryptocurrencies, especially Bitcoin, will see significant appreciation. I think what many more informed analysts, journalists, and economists believe is that you need to buy, forget about them, and wait. It is not rocket science, and I also lack the mental or psychological resilience to follow and buy or sell on a daily basis.
Day trading is completely out of the question for me!!!
Julie picked me up with Austin, of course, and after a brief discussion that had already been settled the day before, we set off for Wombourne. It’s a quaint little village, just about 3 or 4 miles from Kingswinford. I had driven through it once before with my mother the previous week, and I thought it was pretty charming, typically English, with old churches, a few houses and shops lining the main centre, and a cricket club and green right in the middle.
Everything seemed to revolve and resonate around the cricket green and club, the shops, the houses, and a couple of restaurants and pubs. I had wanted to get to know this charming, beautiful little village, and now we were on our way there.
We had to travel along long, winding roads to reach the village. England is blessed with thousands of small villages and towns connected by beautiful, winding streets lined with farmland, trees, and hedges. It is a feast for the eyes for the nature lover.
Entering Womborne, we drove around the cricket green, where a match was in progress. How English can you get?
A beautiful, warm, sunny day in a small, quaint village with a cricket green and a match where all the players wore white, contrasting with the green of the pitch. We found a car park in front of a school facing the cricket green; it seemed free, which was even better.
Austin was excited to get out of the car, and he soon became very nervous and anxious, barking so much that it might have been overwhelming for most people. Julie feels embarrassed and nervous, worried about what others might think. I don’t really care.
As soon as we left the car and started to walk, I saw a young mother putting shopping into the car with her daughter. I asked her if she lived in Wombourne, and she said yes. I then asked her if I could ask some questions about the village, and she said yes again. I bombarded her with questions about what to do and where to go.
She confirmed the path that leads to the railway lines near the brook. She also confirmed that The Vine Inn is the best and most popular pub in the village. We thanked her, and we took the long way around the cricket green to reach the stream and brook. We passed by many small shops, estate agents, interior design shops, and shops specialising in upmarket home furnishings.
With the sun, the blue sky, the approach of the English summer, the Cricket Club and greenery in the heart of the village, a match in progress, and plenty of charming little shops, you could smell and almost touch the money in the air.
After walking halfway around the cricket green, we strolled along a very narrow pavement between shops, houses, the street, and cars. We then turned left onto a side street leading down to a field and the brook. The sunshine and mild temperature made it very pleasant.
We followed the stream along the path; Austin was off his lead and thoroughly exploring, observing his surroundings, greeting other dogs, but constantly glancing back to check where we were. We crossed a small stream to reach the other side of the fields, then walked up to a gate and some trees.
The path led us to the main track, which used to be a railway line connecting Wombourne with Kingswinford.
It is now a dirt track without train tracks, with woods and trees on both sides, and it truly is beautiful. Walking along the path, we met another native, and I asked Dave again; he revealed details about Wombourne and the surrounding area, telling us that if we walked for about 20 minutes in the direction we were heading, we would come across a lovely cafe set inside an old, restored train station.
We once again thanked Dave, as it is always important to show gratitude to the natives when they provide valuable information about the area and region, especially since he went with the intention of getting coffee and a cake at the train station. We arrived at this beautifully restored old train station, with tables and chairs outside and on the platform, and with the counter inside.
Dogs couldn’t go inside the actual café, so I stayed outside at one of the tables on the platform, overlooking the train tracks, while Julie went in to buy coffee and a cake.
When she came out, she told me that the inside of the train station was just as lovely as the outside. The cake was good, but the coffee was ordinary and not very special; it could have been better.
What impressed me was that we had found this beautiful path surrounded by lush nature. Occasionally, we would come across old abandoned bridges—just the legs and primary structure, no tops—that reminded us of the past, especially English history. We also found this lovely cafe, again in the middle of the woods, deep in the countryside. Sometimes it’s so hard to find such places, and when we finally do, we must appreciate them and be very grateful.
How great is that?
When I woke up this morning, I was unaware of this lovely place, but now I know it, and I want to visit as often as I can. After relaxing on a bench outside the café on the platform where trains used to stop, it was time for us to walk back to the village.
Walking back emphasised even more how fortunate we were to discover this place. Upon returning to the village, we explored the other side around the Cricket Club that we hadn’t seen before. Julie met someone she had known from the past and confirmed that the Vine Inn was the place to go for lunch.
We finally arrived at The Vine Inn—an impressive country pub with a beer garden outside. The old Tudor style complements the village’s quaint, quirky character—truly England at its best. Inside, the pub is quite stunning, featuring a long bar, an old English stone floor, wooden beams on the ceilings, traditional English paintings of the countryside, and beautifully varnished tables along with old-fashioned upholstered chairs that you’d find only in the finest furniture shops.
It’s a feast for the eyes and the senses. One section of the pub was specially designated for dog owners, where we found a cosy nook with a window beside us, complemented by bench seating against the wall and a large round table.
The menu was impressive, so I ordered a burger and fries to see if it would match the quality of the old Wharf or even surpass it, as I believe both places are of a similar standard. Julie chose a traditional chicken and mushroom pie with mashed potatoes and carrots, which was truly excellent. She loved it. We had previously considered the old Wharf the best place we’d visited, but this venue was on a par with, or perhaps even slightly better than, it.
A memorable lunch, even more so when the bill arrived and I had to sell a kidney to pay for it. It was not cheap but reasonably priced given the location and quality. We loved the venue, and it was the perfect end to an enjoyable day out in the English countryside at Wombourne.
We returned to the car and headed to Wordsley quite quickly. It was about 5:30, almost 6; we could have gone out again, but it was too much for one day. I kissed Julie goodbye, and she went home with the little man. A wonderful day full of fun and laughter turns to sadness when we have to leave and part ways.
This routine of going out for the day and enjoying ourselves turns into a feeling of melancholy at the end of the day, when we separate. We’re both no longer teenagers, but we need some quality, intimate time together, or it could drive us apart.
We talked later, and after spending some time with my mother, I realised it is one of the best places I have visited in England so far.
In bed by midnight.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
