In another classic episode of Escape to the Country, semi-retired couple Martin and Glenda scour the land seeking a five bedroom property with countryside views, a home which has lots of history and character yet is spacious with all mod cons, is in a well-connected village or town but away from the road, and has a separate studio space as well as paddock for horses, kept within a low-maintenance garden. As always, they leave empty-handed.

For some reason, the county of Shropshire always brings to my mind endless episodes of Escape to the Country. It probably came about during a four hour afternoon binge of boredom when the best entertainment on offer was seeing affluent couples debate the merits of being located within fifteen minutes of Ludlow. From my (admittedly not rigorous) research, Shropshire is awash with such couples. And you can see why.

But more of that later, as our journey today starts in Cheltenham Spa, where I meet up with Caroline for a week of escaping in the country. It is a fine summer’s day and Cheltenham is looking mostly resplendent, particularly around the parklands lined with elegant Regency mansions. The weather suits a picnic and an ice cream and an outdoor drink before some alfresco dining and a long walk back to the Premier Inn.

The next day takes us through Herefordshire and into the heart of Shropshire, with place names familiar from daytime TV property shows. The first port of call is Ross-on-Wye, providing a taster for the towns to come, all higgledy-piggledy high streets, timber beams and hilltop climbs. From high up next to a church, the Wye meanders quietly into a panorama of what is to come.

The same sinewy river cuts through the heart of Hereford, where it is time for some lunch. That is if you can negotiate the ridiculous parking arrangements with apps and meters and enforcement cameras and other people scratching their heads as to why they make this so damn difficult. It is worth it, in the end, but doesn’t garner great first impressions.

Having grown up in a Plymouth whose centre was largely obliterated during World War Two, I rather like the character and charm of Hereford. Its cathedral upon the banks of the river impresses, as do the cloisters and laneways emanating from its heart. Yeah, it has Poundland and other such trappings but they are frequently encased in timber and crisscross cladding. Lunch in a laneway feels continental, though with more crisps and less Orangina.

At some point we pass into Shropshire and before long come within fifteen minutes of downtown Ludlow. I never realised there were so many fortifications in this part of the country, but it makes sense given cross-border rivalries. Ludlow boasts a decent castle atop its ridge, boasting a civilised cafe within its ramparts. The kind of place for scones and cream, if only the last of the scones were not taken by a family who would not fully appreciate such things.

It’s the kind of setting where Escape to the Country couples would gather with their host to discuss the pitfalls of all the properties they had visited before heading back home to the West Midlands. At some point on their journey, bucolic Shropshire will transition into industrial Black Country. Probably today it is somewhere beyond Ironbridge, though in the past this would have been the very epicentre.

Ironbridge shares a commonality with many Australian places in being named for the bleeding obvious. It is – famously – the site of the world’s first bridge constructed of iron, the gorge in which it sits once a thriving heart of the Industrial Revolution, warts, smoke, cholera and all. Within this context, it is at a confluence where cosy countryside property-buying programs meet the imperialist nostalgia and engineering worship of Portillo, Robinson, Bell et al.

Today, it is hard to imagine a noisy, dirty, smoky valley of mining and manufacture, shipping and smelting. The graceful iron bridge stands, backed by a picturesque village of quaint homes and tourist trappings rising up the hill. Being a warm day already, I succumb to an ice cream before noon and Caroline happily joins in. We find pleasant lanes and a pleasant park and, with some time-filled, a pleasant pub. It is not the pub garden of dreams, but it is a pleasant place for lunch.

Still seeking the pub garden of dreams later on, Caroline asked a couple of police officers strolling the amiable streets of Much Wenlock for their recommendations. There isn’t much to Much Wenlock and I doubt there is much for the Much Wenlock constabulary to do. Other than recommend pub beer gardens to out-of-towners. As it turns out, the recommendation in Broseley was okay but the garden more gravel car park than veritable eden.

Ideally there would have been a good beer garden in Much Wenlock itself, to refresh after a lovely amble around this most charming of small towns and its surrounding countryside. But much of Much Wenlock is chock full of timber-framed cottages, tightly wedged together with barely room to swing a cat. Gardens are a luxury. This is usually a point of contention for those couples in Escape to the Country, bemoaning a lack of space in the medieval home full of character they so desperately sought.

If it is space and character they are after then they may need to head west, and the Welsh borderlands. For here, just outside of Welshpool we discovered a good-sized pile boasting fine views, a well-maintained garden, several bedrooms with en-suite, plenty of wildlife, and all this situated within five minutes drive of Tesco.

While we may have missed out in our perfect pub garden quest, then Powis Castle was a roaring success of a National Trust day out. Even I don’t begrudge the admission fee, which was good value considering the wonderful gardens and grounds, the views, the preposterous wealth and artefacts of the insides, bonus peacocks and – with a little extra payment – coffee and cake. Oh, and a picnic, naturally. Proving the perfect escape to the country.