A giant called Gwendol Wrekin with a grudge against the town of Shrewsbury decided to flood the town and kill all its inhabitants. So he collected a giant-sized spadeful of earth and set off towards the town. When in the vicinity of Wellington he met a cobbler returning from Shrewsbury market with a large sackful of shoes for repair. The giant asked him for directions, adding that he was going to dump his spadeful of earth in the River Severn and flood the town. “It’s a very long way to Shrewsbury,” replied the quick-thinking shoemaker. “Look at all these shoes I’ve worn out walking back from there!” The giant immediately decided to abandon his enterprise and dumped the earth on the ground beside him, where it became the Wrekin. The giant also scraped the mud off his boots, which became the smaller hill Ercall nearby.
Folklore and storytelling weave an irresistable thread through the countryside, hills and mountains of the UK.
When i am out and about “all around the Wrekin” in the winter months i often marvel at the amazing sunsets that watercolour the sky out West with the most mesmerising blues, reds and oranges.
Depending on what’s in the hip-flask i sometimes imagine the colours in the sky are the reflections of the rage on Gwendol Wrekin’s face after he realised he’d been outsmarted by the cobbler.
Another beautiful evening to be out.