Saturday was a good day for a walk. Change was in the air. Day is now beginning to stretch, straining to reclaim just a bit more of the night. The air was mild and although we have certainly not seen the last of the cold the direction of travel is clear; Spring is on the way.

The Train Guard looked out of the early morning window and contemplated the hanging mist. “It’s not going to be nice out there today”. But he was wrong of course.

As we started to walk blue was already beginning to shine through the low-lying cloud. The sun burnt through quickly and the mist was only able to cling onto the highest of ground. The threat of the mist had one good effect though as we more or less had the high ground to ourselves all day.

We climbed up to the top of the ridge without having a clear plan. Kate announced that she felt it was a day “for a Sloman”. She meant it was a day for a walk to the pub, something which is certainly a tactic that Al has shared on more than one occasion (see Alan Sloman’s big Walk blog).

This was a new concept for me. It has to be said that I seldom hit the hills with the aim of ending up at a pub. Kate certainly has more in common with Al in that regard. As we began to descend the ridge a whole series of new phrases set out to expand this new doctrine.

There was (I think) the Classic Sloman. This was described as a good country walk to a pub. This was followed by the ‘Vintage Sloman’ — a good country walk taking in two or more pubs. And then there was the ultimate ‘Super Sloman’, which turned out to be — well — just a trot to a pub.

By the time the Sloman doctrine had been properly defined we were strolling into the Shropshire hamlet of Bridges. Keen readers will realise that I have blogged about its pub, the Three Horseshoes before. This idyllically situated establishment is run by a miserable git who really doesn’t like walkers. But he does keep a very good pint of local Shropshire Ale. We arrived to notice a sign, ‘Closed due to flood’. Next to it was a second sign ‘Still closed due to flood’. The pub had been closed for some time.

So, the miserable git was also something of a waster. I thought of a lovely pub I know at a place called Lower Lode near Tewkesbury. The pub is virtually ten feet from the water. It floods here regularly, more than once every winter. As soon as the flood waters recede the stone flags are brushed down and the place re-opens. The Lower Lode is only closed when you have to swim to get there! I wondered what they would make of this performance. After all, Bridges is called Bridges for a reason. There are lots of streams here. Flooding can’t be too rare an occurrence. We sat and ate chocolate bars in lovely February sunshine. As we left we passed a skip full of flood debris, much of which seemed to be roof insulation, Perhaps the flood was caused by a burst pipe? Anyhow, I’m amazed it was still closed. They have real character and true grit at the Lower Lode.

We re-jigged our plans. walking back over the hill and down to Church Stretton for some lunch. I looked longingly at he first little café that we came to, which is a favourite haunt of mine when walking alone. I was told quite firmly that this was not a pub — it simply could not be classified as a Sloman.

We strolled around the corner to the pub. Years ago I used to avoid this place like the plague but since the smoking ban it has actually become quite nice. It was packed. We drank a rather wonderfully well kept pint of Banks’ Best and then went to order food. They’d sold out of food.

I’m willing to bet this never happens to the real Sloman.

We settled for the Berry House café which was something of a find. You are given two menus one of which simply gives you details of all of their suppliers. Everything is bought as locally as possible. The house white is a medium dry made in a Shropshire vineyard. The organic cider must be brewed only a few miles away. All waste is composted. Non local products are chosen from countries that do not use air freight. Everything is weighed up with a view to air miles.

It was a nice place, very nice. Not that cheap though but the Good Food Guide are right to include it in their 2010 edition. My sausages were not only good but (the menu told me) came from the Wenlock Edge Farm which I know well. I often find myself strolling past the farm’s pigs foraging around in woodland. They always seemed to be very happy pigs. And they tasted that way too.

Disappointment from the pubs aside this was a good day. The calf muscles were a bit stiff this morning but all in all there was a feeling of satisfaction, of training for this year’s walking season getting underway.

There’s more than a few miles to get under the belt before Braemar — the ultimate Super Sloman experience!