Seemingly a sedate affair with prim Victorian hotels, the town has a racy cultural life
What’s going for it? I learned to drive on the Malvern Hills, which is probably why I failed my test. Twice. It’s not a spot for a novice. Hairpin bends. Narrow, winding lanes charged down by local Mr Toads in their Morgans (the car factory is nearby). And you want hill starts? You got ’em: 45 degrees steep (OK, not quite). They – well, I – call them the Midlands Alps, rising without warning a thousand feet up from the Severn Valley.
Elgar, with his thighs of steel, famously walked the rollercoaster slopes of these old volcanoes for inspiration. The reason is obvious. The countryside is perhaps the most stirring in England, all pagan hill forts, ancient oaks and medieval priories. Great Malvern, seemingly a sedate affair of bargeboards, doilies and prim, Victorian hotels, but with a rather racy cultural life (the theatre’s amazing) and a nice line in decent coffee. I adore the place. Which is probably why I failed my test. Too much gawping. Keep your eyes on the road!
Continue reading...from Property | The Guardian http://bit.ly/2AjzbzZ
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