Saturday Sunshine in Toy Town

Ironbridge Rowing Regatta, 28th June 2025

Jun 29, 2025

Oh so beautiful Ironbridge, 28th June 2025 **(Author’s Collection)**

Saturday 28th June 2025 was a strange day to be alive but all things considered, just as strange as all the rest. It was the first day of two in the annual Rowing Regatta in beautiful Ironbridge and after a hearty bacon sandwich as the sun triumphed in its sky high battle with the fluffy white clouds overhead, I had yet another excuse to return to a toy town on the banks of the River Severn, and the only place in our strange, strange world where I find any semblance of peace. Today’s short journey began as yesterday’s jaunt to toy town ended with “Love Can Move Mountains” by The Proclaimers on the car stereo, a musical gift left for me by my beautiful son. Providence is I believe what literary scholars may call this, or simply a happy musical accident I wasn’t changing any time soon, and when you read this ode to joy of dogs leaping into the river chasing ducks (and tennis balls), excited families young and old devouring ice cream in the sunshine, rowing races cheered on by a roaring crowd or even a middle aged man who should know better reading his book whilst paddling in a cooling river, I hope someone is moving your particular mountain with love.

It was just before 1pm when I arrived in Ironbridge and there was a tangible and discernible hum enveloping this historic toy town in central England. The sun was almost permanently out from behind the overhead clouds, fitting for one of Ironbridge’s many festival weekends, and the human family was in evidence wherever you looked in this haven of peace and tranquility here on earth. The Tontine Hotel was already overflowing with patrons enjoying some early afternoon alcoholic nourishment in the sun trap running along the High Street, and a main thoroughfare teeming with the human vibrancy that makes my spiritual home so very, very special. A dozen or so motorbikes were neatly arranged in a row in front of the War Memorial and below it, the square viewing platform and home to “Stephen’s Bench” beside the oldest iron bridge in the world a rotating hive of human activity in the glorious sunshine. I had no plans to take up residence on “my” bench today. I shared that pleasure with my beautiful son yesterday as well as having the kingdom all to myself on a recent sleepy Wednesday evening as the sun set once more on toy town. Although every shop was open and trade as bright and breezy as the English weather, I decided against visiting my favourite shop and the town’s one and only sweet shop. I sensed my friend Jeremy would be busy enough without my passing custom today (and it’s never truly the same without my son by my side) so instead I marvelled at the multitude of families enjoying an ice cream on the riverbank as I made my way, armed with half a loaf of bread, to an appointment with some hungry and noisy ducks and then to say a hearty hello to a bear by the name of Paddington.

Ducks fed (an always pleasing pastime) and a greeting passed the way of a British institution and cuddly bear (but no marmalade sandwich?) my next port of call was a nearby antiques shop and I’m pleased to report that 12 months on from the very festival I was about to attend (and a year since I last set foot in the antique shop) the pool balls I saved my hard earned paper round money for in the mid 1980’s remain (a) individually priced (b) still more expensive per ball than I paid for the entire set four decades ago and (c) MY CHILDHOOD POOL BALLS ARE STILL SEEN AS ANTIQUES! Smiling broadly, I walked through Dale End Park (where my son and I regularly decamp for our picnic breakfasts) and where normally we have the entire park to ourselves, today it was full to overflowing with the excited chatter of our human family. Picnics (copycats!) were in full flow wherever you looked, frisbees were flying in all directions, together with footballs (American and English varieties) and as the park narrowed and Ironbridge Rowing Club came into view, so did the hundreds upon hundreds of shells, sculls or competition rowing boats from clubs as far and wide as Birmingham and Worcester. Many more clubs and districts were represented as well as age groups varying from juniors to seniors and single sculls through to 4–8 men and women boats. I spent a very pleasurable hour in the sunshine stationed right by the finishing line of what I believe the DJ (Yes, there was a DJ!) announced as 900m races. Many races were won (and lost), the DJ played some Arctic Monkeys and Mumford and Sons and with the sun beating down on the hottest day of the year so far the river was calling me, and there was only one way of answering her.

Further along the river I tried reading my book whilst sat on “Beth’s Bench” (it’ll take too long to explain why this bench is so named) but the sights and sounds on the River Severn now before me were far more pleasing to both my eyes and ears. A plethora of dogs took the opportunity to cool off in the river (as well as scaring the local ducks) and in all my years of coming to Ironbridge I’ve never seen so many families and children enjoying the delights of the river, a river that was calling me, and how could I refuse the siren call on a day such as this? So I tried reading my book again but with my legs now dangling in the river, tiny tadpoles dancing their merry way in and around my toes. A page or two was read but more dogs arrived (a reluctant Dalmatian who didn’t fancy a swim, a huge black and white ball of fluff who most certainly did!) and pretty soon my book was on the riverbank and I was sat squarely in the river and talking with the passing ducks! A fleet of canoes trundled by and although I could easily have stayed longer a siren song of a different kind came calling and my time in this picture-book world was at an end.

So I bid farewell to the ducks and a huge black dog who refused to stop chasing his tennis ball into and out of the river and as Ironbridge was as busy as at any time during this magical afternoon in the sunshine I walked to the middle of the bridge, a bridge I’ve walked over many hundreds of times before and I turned, as I always do, in the very centre of the bridge, and thanked my spiritual home for taking care of me and for being an unspoilt oasis in a strange, strange world.

The all important picture section: