A Trip up the Borders

I've been a bit preoccupied this last week - my stepfather passed away suddenly last weekend, and I had to get up to Wrexham today for his funeral.
On the plus side, this meant a train journey through some of the loveliest scenery in Britain, through Ludlow and Shrewsbury and up until we crossed the River Dee (several times - it's a very meandering river) and came in to Wrexham General. Then I got a lift up to the village outside Wrexham that dad retired to. I lived there for a while too, but I had difficulty remembering much of it.
It's the first time I've ever been to the graveside at a funeral - most of the previous services I've been to have been cremations - and as the church is quite close to the cemetery, we walked down behind the hearse, with the cars for the less mobile members of the family behind. And the hailstone came in horizontally - everyone said dad must have arranged it specially!
And then we went to the pub - well, one of many pubs in the village - where there was a buffet and a tab behind the bar. Egg sandwiches. You've got to have egg sandwiches at a funeral. And ham. And little sausage rolls. (It was like going back in time to the 1970s!). The real ale on offer was Jennings Redbreast, which was quite pleasant. And I got a chance to chat to members of the family I hadn't seen for maybe twenty years.
On the way back to the station, my memory started to come back, as we drove cautiously down a very narrow lane which was in the process of being re-surfaced. There was the hall where I'd given blood (and was given orange juice afterwards, instead of tea, because I looked much younger than I was). And there was the bowling green where the Zulu dancers practised for the National Eistedfodd one year.
I was surprised how easy it was to get to Wrexham by train - I was there by 11am after catching the College bus from Hay at crack of dawn. It was just a shame I had to get back early so I could catch the last available bus from Hereford to Hay.