Casketeers, Shrewsbury.

Good Friday really was a good day, better than Saturday anyway, Shrewsbury founded 800AD, Shropshire is a town I've visited a few times over the years with away matches, it was officially written off as double shit and not worth going to ever again, when they left the old hilariously titled Gay Meadow for the new unimaginatively titled New Meadow, probably the shittest lego flatpack ground I've ever visited - you know, one of those little thoughtless, soulless, characterless grounds dumped in a field seemingly in the middle of nowhere, like most modern stadiums these days. Anyway, enough of football, it has a tendency to ruin most things for me at the moment, so fuck it, I've never fully appreciated the charms of this medieval English market town before, with all the sights, smells and sounds of the more popular York or Chester, but less tourist traps and crowds, it was as you'd expect in oldly worldly England, a haven for great 'old man' pubs and ales galore.
With over six hundred listed rickety buildings probably older than God himself, it's a pleasant sight, whether you're into your history or not. Cut in half by the River Severn and just a bike ride away from Wales, featuring some spectacular scenery, what better a place than to seek out some pre googled pubs, scribbled on a waterproof notepad and nothing but our wits and a camera to see what we could find.












Notable residents of Shrewsbury included John Peel, Wilfred Owen, Tony Blair's dad, the lead singer of Mott The Hoople and most importantly big thinker and all round good egg, old Charles Darwin himself with whom they devoted a statue in the town centre. Shrewsbury is a nice place, the pubs were welcoming, the locals welcoming, what better place than the sit and watch the world (and scantily clad young ladies) go by than in a beer garden on the river, supping some nice locally brewed beers in the sunshine. Oh, and dogs swimming with ducks too.