“Are you Simon?” asked Sarah, after finding a very tall and well-built man who was standing next to a ridiculously expensive Audi.
 |
| Evesham train station garden |
Simon, our AirBnB host, said he would collect us from Evesham train station and drive us directly to his home where we were staying. AirBnB seemed to be an interesting alternative to staying in hotels. Plus, renting a room in someone’s house could provide the opportunity to gain insights about the town from a local.
The process of booking into Simon’s house had been fraught: Sarah had spent two hours on the phone speaking with Vicki, an AirBnB operative as part of a desperate bid to authenticate her identity. This involved pressing non-existing buttons on an app that had a feature that ‘wasn’t quite finished yet’ and sending various photos of her passport from a range of different devices. After Sarah had recounted this tale, Simon said that it was all about insurance. I wasn’t quite sure what kind of insurance it was, whether it was for Simon to protect himself from dodgy house guests, or us house guests being insured from dodgy hosts.
“So, what brings you to Evesham?” asked Simon.
“You explain” said Sarah, turning towards me.
“You know the alphabet, right…?” I began. I explained that we had been to Adlington, Batley, Clock Face, Dornock and that we had now randomly ended up in Evesham. Simon gave us both a smile. He liked the idea.
After a ten minute drive around the outskirts of Evesham we arrived at his house; a recently built four bedroom detached property with integral garage. We were taken to one of his spare rooms. It was bright and spotless, and although in terms of size it wasn’t much larger than our room in Adlington (which has now become a form of measurement), it didn’t feel at all oppressive.
Simon worked in IT and had recently turned freelance. He lived with Heather, who had given up her job and was in the process of retraining as a healthcare professional. They advertised their spare room as a way to earn a bit more money. I also sensed that Simon enjoyed it. One of the obviously enriching things about travel is your exposure to different people from different places; as an AirBnB host this principle is inverted: you meet different people from different places without actually having to go anywhere. It turned out that Simon and Heather were pretty booked up with visitors from Australia and Hong Kong, business people going to interviews, and a film editor from America who regularly visited for a couple of months for the sole intention of playing football at the local Church football team.
“What is the main industry in Evesham? I mean, what do people do here for work?”
“House building. It used to be agriculture. When the financial crisis hit local farmers sold off bits of land to developers so they could keep going, which has meant there’s been all these estates popping up. When we moved here it was different; the town was hit really badly; you could really see it. It’s only recently that it has started to recover with new shops opening.” Simon paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts about what else he could say. “We’ve been here for three years, and Evesham was very much a compromise. We wanted to move to Chipping Campden, where everyone wants to live, but we couldn’t afford it, so we ended up here.”
I had no idea where Chipping Campden was, but I later discovered it is a village or very small town in the Cotswolds; a place that was very much on the tourist map.
With our bags packed, we navigated our way through the very middle class estate and onto Port Street, heading towards the heart of the town. Along the way, we were struck by the number of Eastern European and international supermarkets that we passed. There were eight within just a few hundred metres: the Port Street Super Mini Market, Balkanika Food Shop, Europa Food Store, Lifestyle Grocers Limited (with the catchy slogan of ‘make it your… lifestyle’), Stokrotka, International Mini Market and off licence and finally the Port Street International Food Store (all produce English, Polish, Kurdish, Arabic, Turkish and from many other countries).
Evesham sits within a horse shoe shaped meander of the River Avon, which defines both its topography and size. Bridge Street rose from a gentle valley. Following its path to a cross roads we embarked upon one of Simon’s suggestions: a visit to the ‘award winning’ Royal Oak pub where we stopped for lunch. I indulged with a pint of local beer, whilst Sarah studied the menu. Although it was a Saturday lunchtime, it was quiet, except for couples in their sixties on double dates.
Our explorations continued. We found the Word of Mouth Café (another of Simon’s recommendations) and a sign to some ‘award winning’ toilets, which we couldn’t seem to find. We did, however, find the Tourist Information office, which also doubled up as a quaint local museum. I spoke with Phil, the tourist information officer, who suggested that we looked at the two local churches: St Lawrence’s, and the All Saints Parish Church. An accompanying website for St Lawrence’s is enticing, suggesting that it is: ‘full of activities for the whole family, taking you on a journey of historical discovery’ also mentioning boxes of treasures and a ‘bishop’s mitre’.
A visit to the Almonry museum offered a better journey of historical discovery. Situated on the site of the former abbey, the museum is housed in a wooden building that appears to be dealing adequately with some quite significant structural movement. A walk through the museum took us through a series of galleries dedicated to the history of the town. The rooms were busy and eclectic; objects were displayed sat and hung in every conceivable space. Whilst it was crammed, it wasn’t oppressive. One corridor took us to the formal garden, which was also a museum all of its own. We found a bench. A solitary volunteer sat on the ground, tending to the garden, pulling up weeds.
 |
| Almonry museum |
Outside the museum, my eye caught a sign for something called the Asparagus Festival. Asparagus is for Evesham what biscuits are for Batley. Asparafest, as it is called, is an initiative that was established by British Asparagus Growers association, and has been cited as the Best Festival in Worcestershire. As well as a stage for music, there is also a cookery stage and an asparagus eating competition. I read that there would be the crowning of the ‘Asparagus King and Queen’. Everything seemed to be fronted by a jolly asparagus related cartoon character who goes by the name of ‘Gus’. Compelling as Asparafest seemed, we were unfortunately a week early.
We followed Phil’s advice and wandered around the two churches, but we didn’t linger for long; churches mean little to me. I see them as lovely buildings and interesting historical artefacts that are connected to the very human and earthly need for community and companionship. The echo of our footsteps and a small loud speaker that played piano music in one of the churches didn’t encourage spiritual connection, but instead made me think about the complexities of acoustics.
A short walk around the corner took us to another church of Evesham: the Riverside Shopping centre; a modern building with a light interior made possible by a glass roof. Very few shops were open. Wherever the people of Evesham went to shop on a Saturday, they certainly didn’t go to the Riverside Shopping centre.
 |
| Riverside shopping centre |
There was something else to do; a walk. We retraced our steps to the churches, made our way through the well-tended Abbey Park towards Crown Meadow to the north bank of the River Avon. We had a very simple and manageable challenge; to trace the horseshoe meander of the river.
The walk can be is best described as ‘pleasant’; it was warm enough to dispense with a jumper, and there wasn’t any hint of rain. We walked along a foot path and under canopies of trees, passing the infrequent jogger and dog walker. On the south bank of the river, we saw some very fancy houses. Fifteen minutes later, we found a ferry boat that operated across the River Avon. It was a ‘chain ferry’; it was operated by a man who pulled the boat along using a steel cable. The cable was anchored at the end of a street known as Boat Lane, and was situated next to an establishment called Raphael's Restaurant, which sold (of course) asparagus.
We wandered along Boat Lane back to the town and decided to find something to eat. We followed Simon’s final recommendation: a newly opened Italian restaurant, which also served asparagus. As we ate and talked, I noticed the cars that were pulling up in front of the restaurant and parking. They were smart, expensive cars, which suggested an abundance of money. I couldn’t decide whether it was the choice of restaurant, or something specific about Evesham that was the cause.
After our meal, we had a drink, and leafed through the local newspaper to see what was on during the evening. After reading stories about kittens, Asparafest, the theft of a van, and news about a new Waitrose, we discovered that we had missed the knitting circle and a meeting of the Hardy Perennials Society. We visit the Evesham Arts Centre to attend a comedy show.
A fifteen minute walk to the arts centre took us past some boarded-up shops, a heavy metal pub advertising a performance by an ex member of Judas Priest, and eventually onto a cul-de-sac. The arts centre turned out to be a modern theatre that was physically connected to a reputable school. Our entertainment for the evening was provided by comedian Zoe Lyons, a regular on TV panel shows. Zoe spoke about the challenges of working with technology, politics and, of course, asparagus.
After the show, we found ourselves in what I assume was the main market square. I spotted an establishment, Chancer’s which advertised a disco. There was music coming from another place called the Valkyrie Bar, which seemed to be filled with young middle class people on an entirely respectable night out. For a few moments, we wondered what to do; whether we should take a chance and go to Chancer’s, but in the end, we opted to call it a night. Perhaps it was tiredness. Or perhaps Evesham had instilled within us a powerful feeling of respectability and responsibility that we couldn’t quite escape.
Simon had told us that there were some areas that were a bit ‘rough around the edges’ but we didn’t see any of them; it all remained civilised, tidy and well kept. Other than the eerily empty but perfectly clean and quiet shopping centre, Evesham didn’t raise any eyebrows to us casual visitors; there was nothing to suggest that Evesham had any kind of ‘edginess’ to it.
Despite its proximity to a famous and very lovely river, and having a set of glorious churches, a charming museum and an art deco cinema, it seemed to lack a little ‘something’. Perhaps this has more to do with my own experiences and expectations and less to do with Evesham; I didn't have the time to wind down from the perpetual challenge of being a city dweller.
