Melton Mowbray

As I mentioned a few days ago, I’m not mad about going back the way I came and, as an adjunct to this, I’m not mad about repeatedly taking the same route. Last night, I came down the A1 and stayed with my friend Mark (great chat, excellent wine, lax attitude to feeding ourselves), so I really didn’t want to go back up the same road today.

I put a quick call into the Minx who suggested cutting across to the M1 via Melton Mowbray and then, after a few miles on the motorway, crossing to Manchester via Snake Pass. Despite adding an hour to the journey time, this seemed an entirely favourable alternative.

Turning off the A1 onto the A606 I become aware that the countryside was suddenly rather manicured: it was like driving through Kent. The villages and small towns were all well tended and the road undulated and winded pleasantly. I was having an enjoyable drive.

I knew of Melton Mowbray because of their pork pies and I wondered whether they made much of that (unlike Kendal, which is curiously coy about its mint cake production). Even with this on my mind, I was slightly surprised by the town sign proclaiming that it was the ‘Rural capital of food’! Driving through it, though, if you didn’t know about the pork pies, you’d wonder what on earth they were talking about: one of those examples of the marketing losing touch with reality.