As a regular in the small country town of Bewdley, it was only natural for me to be compelled to locate the source of a possible alternate dimension from which the maid in full Victorian overalls must have crossed over to find herself in the local co-op.
Well it was no Platform Nine and Three Quarters but a jovial little tea room nestled on a street corner. My friend and I hovered coyly around gingham jam jars until we were welcomed by a cheery Victorian clad couple who first felt it necessary to emphasise the fact it was a tea room and therefore they served ‘tea.’ Our coyness had obviously been mistaken for the uncertainty of mere muggles accidentally stumbling upon the historical realm in pursuit of a greasy pub fix. As such we were also trained in the use of a tea strainer, this obviously delighted them so we went along with it.
The place, not much bigger than my living room, was crammed with Victorian paraphernalia; china, traditional ales, toys and so on, and with barely room left for the two tables it was like Sylvanian Families. The scones arrived on a pretty cake tier, with darling pots of jam and cream and my tea pot complete with a tea cosy, any hat enthusiast would be jealous of.
With its chip shops and quaint English pubs nestled along the River Severn, Bewdley is definitely heritage material. Though its clear Grannystap has not only embraced English tradition, but swapped potential custom for an environment lovingly crafted by a colourful past and familial tradition. And as such, offers a refreshing change to the triteness of its many English neighbours.