National Grid Wireless people: Andrew a surveyor type guy, Steve, the boss and Julie the Community Relations chick.

Us: Tom from the Halfway House, Pete Lambert SWF, me AFRTW correspondent.

Question: Where's the landowners, why are we (us) here?

Mission: to give us (interested parties) the talk face-to-face instead of looking at plans coldly. (They were very nice people. We didn't look at any plans, yet.)

Landowners have been informed and are in the loop, but not present on this detailed examination of what NGW intend to do to the path, how many vehicles are going up, over what period talk. Curiously.

In brief: They're going to take out the diagonal granite bricks. All of them. Their yesterday's idea and didn't work. Acting as dams for mud and rubble and producing vortices (vortexes) the other side, deepening divets. Tom cleaned many of the worst offenders out recently, looking forward to the ice.

They're going to re-contrete the top path near Hell's Gate with natural coloured cement and local stone key. And extend, by 200 yard. I think I'm correct. This didn't dawn on the day. It sounds a lot now. Mind, they were ever so nice, disarming NGW people.

The vortices have really dug up that top section of concrete. So much, that drivers aren't taking the proper route. Tom's had words with some, blocked off shortcuts with logs sometimes too.

With the track good for Heath & Safety, the drivers will go up their designated path, and will be firmly reminded to drive it with care.

There's going to be six months of lots of traffic when they make the switch, which will be... They don't know. Sometime before 2010. But they want to get onto the track pretty quickly, within a month or two, proper papers signed and all that red tape. I think their drivers have been complaining.

The mast. There's going to be a second, temporary mast at the junction below Hell's Gate. Where it was once before, I believe. There's going to be one hole, then weighted ties. Pete reminded them about the archeological dig they did on that very spot, all them years ago. And suggested they may help out, perhaps in some way to the bid he's got in to the quango that owns the digging rights for the hill fort. Did I say that SWF want to fence off a part of Hell's Gate to give it time to regrow after repairs?

For a month. There's going to be 24hour security, on site, in a porta-cabin. And one, oddly, at the foot near the toilets. To spot trouble on its way up, they thought? Tom swam in some terrific stories. One about the new fashion for night time jogging, walking and mountain biking with lights on their foreheads, some stronger than cars! He's sees everything that goes up that track. Some amazing things.

The new mast will look like the old one. But will be digital. Julie is going to send me an emissions report that says, "everything is cool." I'm to publish it here.

I'll add more details later and some pictures.





# Posted by Steve Hooker at 3/2/08; 8:50:08 PM
To the News dept.
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The mast report

I am! The Wrekin belongs to me—I'm the King of The Wrekin. Sure, I don't know it as well as others, I've only been near it for 10 years, but it's still mine, I go up a lot lately, now I have a dog. I know others who would think that it's theirs. But it's still mine. "I'm The One True King of the Wrekin!"

Various off stage voices...
"No! I'm the King of The Wrekin!"
"I'm The King of The Wrekin!"
"I'm The King!"
"I'm the King of the Wrekin, and so's my wife!"

Who else thinks they're King of the Wrekin?

There's Tom, in The Halfway House. He lives there 24 hours a day 365 days a year. Tom knows The Hill, very, very well. I like Tom, I know he likes The Wrekin too. I'll let Tom be King of The Wrekin, when I'm not there.

Tom owns a small patch of The Hill, freehold. He chases thugs away from the Forest Glen car parks, makes really good tea and lets people into his patio area to have a sit down on lumpy trees that died a natural death and drink his marvellous tea.

Tom knows The Wrekin runs itself very well. "Everything works smoothly, just as it is, just as it always has." Tom doesn't want much to change on The Hill. Sure, he'd like to see a the burger bar back on the car park and the toilets re-opened. He's even offered to open them up in the morning and close them at night.

Then there's George Evans. 84 years old, played in The Wrekin Forest when he was a lad, before the mast was a twinkle in John Logie Baird's eyes. He's written books about The Hill. I've read them and maddeningly, still can't find some bits he and his son talks about. George actually says he owns The Wrekin. "It's mine." Is he King? The Shropshire Star thinks he is. I'd like George to be King, because he's a cool, wise Wrekin dude. He can be King too, when I'm not there.

George too, knows The Hill runs very well, all by itself. But he's old enough to know that it has always been under threat, of some kind. He likes tea and would like to have a wee, sometimes, other than behind a tree—perhaps he's getting to 'that age.' George doesn't want to see much happen to The Hill. He likes it just as it is. Just as it was, and wouldn't even have given the Cornovii planning permission, if he'd been around then (some would wonder if he was around then).

If ever the mast is blown up with plastic explosives... George had such training for D-Day... George protested most vigorously against it being built... If the mast goes bang and falls over, and my kids have no TeeVee and I have no Radio 4, I'll be looking at George with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

Then, there's Peter Holt and Harry Vane. They've got bits of antique paper that say The Hill is theirs, half each. These bits of paper have fluttered down their generations. Harry of The Raby Estate, the South Western bit, works the forest, rather, the able hands of his foreman and his gang chop down trees and plant new ones. I'm sure Harry and his foreman think they're King of The Wrekin too. His foreman does a good job, I like 'the dark side' as I call it, very, very much. The foreman and his gang can be Kings, when I'm not there.

I don't know what Harry and his foreman want to happen to The Wrekin. I get the idea, that it's nothing. "Nothing at all, thank you very much. Leave us to get on with it."

Peter Holt of Orleton Estates, he owns the front side, the side that covers the main track, the toilets (the council forgot to pay the rent, so it reverted back to him), the donkey field, and down towards the rifle range. Peter says he doesn't want anything to happen to The Hill and nothing much has for hundreds of years. Yet, lately, during his Reign, he's tried to sell his chunk, build holiday homes on the rifle range, and would like to see the donkey field as a restaurant with ample car parking and rent paid. Peter thinks that being King of The Wrekin is better if you lock yourself away with your head in your hands. Seemingly, just because this Hill lover and your author is revolting (though loving and praising his forced 'benign neglect'). "If I can't see them, they can't see me and they'll all go away. Have they gone yet?"

Then, there's Pete Lambert, the SWT's Cockney on the ground, a woodsman by trade and passion, hired for two years, which is about to run out. He needs his contract renewed please. Pete knows bits of The Hill, that I don't. He knows everybody on The Hill and everybody knows him—he's been on TV more times than me (which is exactly once). Pete's a nice guy. A great presenter, negotiator and diplomat. His gang owns The Ercall now and has bits of paper to prove it. His gang has also erected large logo'd signs declaring that it belongs to them. As if knowing wasn't enough.

Pete's gang have a mission, given to them by Kings of London and Wrekin, and possibly as one of those motivational posters above their urinals to ensure continual indoctrination in those vacant moments. 'It is our mission to boldly acquire as much control of The Wrekin and its surrounding areas as possible, to educate the farmers, and to open up that land to the great unwashed masses who've never seen a forest and got muddy.' The phrase is probably shorter and snappier, but you get my drift. In their corporate headquarters' toilets there's no graffiti of the like, "if you look at what I put you maybe weeing on your foot..."

Pete's good with trees, and wildlife, I think. He also wants to be good at dead Cornovii Kings, which isn't the same as trees. It's to mean that a part of Hell's Gate is to be fenced off. He can be King when I'm not there. Though, when I'm not there I need to keep a really close eye on him, otherwise he'll pimp my Hill with go-faster stripes, wide wheels, furry dice and a wicked paint job. "Brummm! Rummm! Rummm!"

Then, of course there's the secretive 'Pete bosses.' Stroking white cats and working the desks and phones in offices far to the West of The Hill, and their bosses with white cats in the far-away Kingdom of London and Wrekin. They're out to grab control of The Hill while pulling Pete's strings. They enviously eye the other Kings and want to be The True, Wrekin King of The Unwashed Masses and will put up logos with fleetingly interesting interpretational illustrations proclaiming their territorial control—given the chance. Their aim is to draw in all the current Kings and form a détente, an accord between the other Kings and to rule over them, as King of Kings. "We know SSSIs, like the back of our hands."

Don't forget that it's the bosses of Pete's bosses in the far-away Kingdom of London and Wrekin that had the final "yes" on the mast in 1974 and may have the ultimate "yes" on the 'coal hole' near New Works. Perhaps they're the true Kings of The Wrekin. I wouldn't let them be Kings, when I was away. Nope. I bet they've never, ever had a nice cup of tea at Tom's.

I mustn't leave out our elected Kings. With his democratic mandate, hand on purse strings and local power and visions of civic city grandeur: Dennis Allen thinks he's King too, being already King of Wellington (Under Wrekin) his territorial army trained eyes crave the high ground. Dennis would like a glamorous, glorious glass house on the ex-Forest Glen car park, which will "henceforth and thusly be known as The Northern Gateway to the The Shropshire Hills," so the bus loads of Olympic tourists will know where they are—obviously. Dennis wouldn't like the smelly burger bar back on his Gateway. "Oh, no! It just wouldn't do."

After Dennis watched me and the toilets on BBC Midlands Today he's finally planning to change his council's policy and will open the toilets. It's sensible to follow the popular line in politics, to be elected King again. Being King's nice.

There are numerous other elected Kings, far too many and uninteresting to note in any depth here. There's George Chancellor, ex-King of AFRTW and current King of Little Wenlock. There's the King of Shropshire (council) who thinks The Wrekin is in his territory. And if all these democratically elected Kings weren't enough, being democratic, or to be seen as democratic, there's the elected Kings' pretenders, from the other colours of the political spectrum. They too, have to be given some sharp elbow room, as understudies and counter-weights, as wannabe Kings.

So, you see, there's lots and lots and lots of Kings. I'm sure you too, dear reader, think of yourself as King of The Wrekin. "And so's my wife!" Maybe I'll let you, when I'm not there. Perhaps you're reading this in Church Stretton, and often look over at The Hill and think yourself King. Maybe I'll let you, too. Come over sometime, give us a smile and say hello, as we cross muddy paths.

A new King's coronation

But, and it's the biggest, biggest but, there's very soon to be a new King. A big new King. A King above all Kings. The King of nearly all Kings will be crowned this Tuesday at the Pancake Day inauguration of the Wrekin Forest Partnership—a meeting of Kings. This King, will hold council over many of the current Kings, though not all Kings will be there. I won't. I've pointedly not been invited. Not that I'm bitter and twisted >:-/ Neither have you, dear reader. "If your name's not down, you're not coming in!"

Some Kings, like the land owning Kings aren't going to join in, and are ignoring this détente. "Stuff 'n' nonsense, I'm King already. Has he gone yet?"

However, Tom of the Halfway House, George Evans, Pete Lambert, his job application form, and his bosses and several of the surrounding elected council Kings will be there and their opposite wannabe Kings. All presided over by the new King: Judge Michael Manders Mander, new chairman of the new WFP. It's his name on the invites. Though, we know that it's Pete and his far away bosses with the white cats who passed the new King the list of Kings to invite and which not.

This new King's bosses will raise a war chest to... I don't know. Give Pete a new job? Glass houses? Twee bridges? Health & Safety studies on sloping trees near paths? Horse drawn logging mornings and other get togethers on weekdays? More £1,800 interpretation logos? Brochures, letterheads and other corporate literature? More negotiation, diplomacy, reports and bid applications?

This King will drive an unstoppable, snowballing, grant feeding beast, throwing a net around The Wrekin and its surrounding muddle. And the white cats will "purrr-rrr-rrr-rrr."

All hail The New King of The Wrekin!

Me? I'm not going to do any hailing. Why should I? After all, "I'm The One, True King, and so's my son and his sister." I don't have a wife. I've got a girlfriend. Typically, she's more of a river person. She also tells me the above screed is a burlesque. I had to look it up.

# Posted by Steve Hooker at 3/2/08; 6:05:08 PM
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Who is King of The Wrekin?