Wenlock Edge...

For most of my childhood I lived in the shadow of Shropshire’s beauty spot, Wenlock Edge, famous for Major’s Leap, Ippikin and Clattering Glat amongst other bits of folklore. A beautiful spot, but maybe I’m biased. Even though I’ve lived but a crow’s flight away for the last 40 plus years, when I travel through Longville in the Dale, up Longville Hill and along Wenlock Edge it feels like the native returning home.

View from the Edge...

 Longville in the Dale (in Ape Dale, no funny remarks please) has changed dramatically since I was a kid. My friend and I walked the roads for hours in comparative safely, roamed the woodlands en route to see ancient relatives and composed irreverent songs about the various country ‘characters’, all of whom have long departed to that village in the sky.

Longville in the Dale...

 The country atmosphere of Longville in the Dale has altered beyond belief. Gone is the overgrown auction yard, replaced by semi-mansions no country dweller could ever afford. The old pond at the back of the Longville Arms, or whatever it is called these days, where we caught tadpoles and made dens has been filled in and replaced by houses, and where have all the trees gone? Anyway, I deviate…  

The Major’s Leap came about when Major Thomas Smallman, who resided at Wilderhope Manor, was fleeing from the Parliamentarians in the Civil War in 1640s or thereabouts, he was chased to the limestone edge and being surrounded had to jump or face the consequences. He survived his leap of fate, saved by a conveniently placed tree, but his unfortunate horse fell to its death.

The view Major Smallman would have seen had he had his eyes open at the time... 

 Ippikin was head of a band of robbers whose hideout was a cave in the limestone escarpments of Wenlock Edge. During a severe storm the limestone collapsed burying Ippikin and his dodgy band in the cave complete with their ill-gotten gains. If travelling along Wenlock Edge be sure not to call out, ‘Ippikin. Ippikin, come out with your long chin‘, or you will be lured to your death over the edge, and over the years, it appears, many have succumbed!

Going down Longville Hill...

 Clattering Glat (good name for a band!!) came about when a son killed his father and hid the body behind a hedge. The next day the body had disappeared and no matter how many times the glat or gap has been filled in it always materializes again!!

Thanks for your time.

The Old Country Crone xx