No
doubt, one of the most
devilish excursions we had while in Wales was to the Skirrid Inn! It is
designated as one of the oldest pubs in Wales
dating back over 900 years. History
deems it that the first floor of the inn was once used as a Court
of Law and over a period of many years, as many as 180
prisoners were
declared guilty of crimes serious enough to
demand the
sentence of
death by hanging, a
decree that was carried out at the inn
itself. Judge Jeffreys is well known as the "Hanging Judge" because of his
desire for harsh sentences to nearly all
defendants.
After a night's
dreaming of the
delightful Welsh landscapes, we
decided to have a
down-to-earth day taking a
drive through Abergavenny towards the Skirrid Inn.
My friend Jane had
disclosed to Cathy and me that we would
definitely love the
dwelling, so we were really looking forward to it. We
drove through breathtaking landscapes over the softly rounded hills until we were
dizzy and
desperate with
desire to arrive!
My excitement
dissipated at first sight of the Inn because it led me to
deem it
derelict,
decrepit,
dark, and
dreadful. So I was not that anxious to enter its
depths as I thought it might be
dangerous. It looked as though it might
disintegrate with the entire roof falling
down upon us. I
drifted across the street and had a nice
dialogue with two horses who had some
doubts about the strangers in town
. Finally, I approached the front
door and
dared to step inside.
A life-sized
dummy of Judge Jeffreys greeted us in the foyer before we
directed ourselves into the pub. There we
discovered a homey
dining room with
designs and
displays on the walls
about the history of the inn. As we
drifted around reading the signs in the
dim and
dingy room, my worries began to
dissipate. The inn was not in
disrepair nor was it
disagreeable. The atmosphere was one of wholesome fun and we could hear the
drinkers laughing and chatting as they
devoured their
dishes of fish 'n chips or meat pies.
Dropping my purse on the bar, I began to
dally a bit with the innkeeper Geoff Fiddler who
delights in his Inn's ghostly reputation. I told him my maiden name was "Jones" (
how Welsh can you get?) and that I'd come all the way from western Canada. When he heard that, he asked if we'd like to see the lodgings that were available for holiday rent. As he
dived for the keys, a lady who lived in the
district leapt up to say she wanted to come, too. She told us that the last time she'd climbed the stairs she'd sensed a ghost, so she
desired to try again with others to
drive on
her courage. Oh, oh!
Pushing the swinging door, we entered a
dark and
dull hallway with stairs rising upwards. I
disguised myself as a
daring day tripper and began the ascent. Partway up the first section, I
discontinued my climb as I
detected the noose hanging from the rafters. I shivered in
disgust but
decided to push on. Just as I placed my foot on the middle landing beside the door to the "prisoners' cell," we all heard the most
demonic and
devilish howl! I jumped and screamed with horror but was
drowned out by the screams of everyone else who was on the stairwell. Then came
deafening roars of laughter as the owner of the pub
dismissed our silly fears. Apparently, he
does it to all the gullible tourists!
Determined to continue on, we peered into all three of the rooms. We were surprised to see that the owners had
developed some very nice rooms
done up with ensuites. Each room was
different with two of them having four-poster beds. I
decided right then that I would later return with Lorne to this
domicile so he could have the same experience.
And we
did. Unfortunately, the owner wasn't on the premises that
day, but as soon as we entered the first room we
danced our way into the four-poster and Jane took our photo. Lorne was
dazed when he saw the ensuite and for a moment we
deliberated about taking a holiday there another time. We resumed our tour in the second room, but as soon as we stepped inside, all three of us felt a cold, creepy sensation! Out we went, and
descended the stairway, exiting via the closest
door and ran for the hills!
Haunted? Possessed by
demons and
devils? Who know? But we were very
discomfited and
disturbed by the experience! I
don't think we'll be going back to stay any time soon. I
defer to any other brave soul to
dare to
dwell there overnight.
Great thanks to our
darling and
dynamic Mrs. Nesbitt, the creator of
ABC Wednesday, and to the
dapper and
debonair Roger, our current administrator. Also, thanks to the team who are
dedicated to visiting all the
dandy,
dazzling, and
deliciously devoted contributors to ABCW. And now, on with my weekly slideshow! Be sure to turn up your sound so you can be
delightfully diverted.
No doubt, one of the most devilish excursions we had while in Wales was to the Skirrid Inn! It is designated as one of the oldest pubs in Wales dating back over 900 years. History deems it that the first floor of the inn was once used as a Court
of Law and over a period of many years, as many as 180
prisoners were declared guilty of crimes serious enough to demand the
sentence of death by hanging, a decree that was carried out at the inn
itself. Judge Jeffreys is well known as the "Hanging Judge" because of his desire for harsh sentences to nearly all defendants.
A life-sized dummy of Judge Jeffreys greeted us in the foyer before we directed ourselves into the pub. There we discovered a homey dining room with designs and displays on the walls about the history of the inn. As we drifted around reading the signs in the dim and dingy room, my worries began to dissipate. The inn was not in disrepair nor was it disagreeable. The atmosphere was one of wholesome fun and we could hear the drinkers laughing and chatting as they devoured their dishes of fish 'n chips or meat pies. Dropping my purse on the bar, I began to dally a bit with the innkeeper Geoff Fiddler who delights in his Inn's ghostly reputation. I told him my maiden name was "Jones" (how Welsh can you get?) and that I'd come all the way from western Canada. When he heard that, he asked if we'd like to see the lodgings that were available for holiday rent. As he dived for the keys, a lady who lived in the district leapt up to say she wanted to come, too. She told us that the last time she'd climbed the stairs she'd sensed a ghost, so she desired to try again with others to drive on her courage. Oh, oh!
Pushing the swinging door, we entered a dark and dull hallway with stairs rising upwards. I disguised myself as a daring day tripper and began the ascent. Partway up the first section, I discontinued my climb as I detected the noose hanging from the rafters. I shivered in disgust but decided to push on. Just as I placed my foot on the middle landing beside the door to the "prisoners' cell," we all heard the most demonic and devilish howl! I jumped and screamed with horror but was drowned out by the screams of everyone else who was on the stairwell. Then came deafening roars of laughter as the owner of the pub dismissed our silly fears. Apparently, he does it to all the gullible tourists! 
