New Year | Life in the English Cotswolds

So another year has gone by and I find that one of the benefits of ageing (yes, there are some!) is being aware that time is running out. I say it is a benefit for I don’t find the thought at all depressing, instead it gives an urgency to achieve what I can whilst I can. There is so much more to do, to see and to learn in what time is left. It is possible that I may live to be a hundred for many of my family have lived well-into their nineties and beyond but even allowing for that, it still doesn’t give me too many years to waste.

One of my ancestors, Richard Beauchamp died at the age of 57, which although not a great age by modern standards probably wasn’t too bad for someone dying in 1439. He had a busy and well-documented life but perhaps his biggest achievement was carried out after his death. In his will he left various bequests, the largest portion to the Collegiate Church of St Mary in the town of Warwick for the building of a chapel. Upon its completion his body was transferred there to lie beneath his splendid gilt-bronze effigy. The effigy, along with the chapel’s medieval stained glass and other decorations are considered to be the finest in Europe. In March, I finally visited the tomb where both he and his parents lie, a remarkably emotional moment perhaps because nothing had prepared me for the chapel’s magnificence. To judge for yourself, click on the link here which will take you to numerous photographs as well as the story of my ancestral grandparent’s lives.

*Richard Beauchamp, my ancestral grandfather lying in the splendour of the chapel he commissioned for the benefit of his soul*

*detail of the tomb of Richard Beauchamp dating from the 1400s*

Spring arrives late in our part of the Cotswolds for the secret valley, although very beautiful, nestles in a ‘frost hollow’. As a result, the bluebells that flower at the foot of the ancient hedgerow than borders our lane are always a couple of weeks later than in many other places. However, when they do bloom, the intensity of their colour never fails to delight. Pretty as they are, they are nothing compared to the bluebell woods of the Cotswolds and the Chilterns, the range of chalk hills where I was raised and lived until I moved here twenty-five years ago. In May, when the bluebells had reached their peak of flowering, I wrote a blog In Praise of Bluebells. Apart from photos of the bluebell woods (including one of me as a much younger man with my two Scottish Deerhounds), I explored the bluebell in history and poetry, link here.

*the magnificence of a bluebell wood in May*

*Occasionally, a white or even a pink bluebell appears*

In June, on my Facebook page, I had a casual discussion with a follower about mentors and mentoring. She asked me if I’d ever had any mentors and my answer was ‘yes’: two couples, both of whom came from very different backgrounds to one another as well as my own. She wanted to know more and so I promised to write a blog about them, a post which would honour their contribution to my life and demonstrate the great enrichment such mentors can give. Mentors – part 1 (link here) tells of my chance meeting at the age of sixteen with Dick and Lorna French, who farmed on Exmoor, a National Park in England’s West Country. The farm is very isolated, and the post explores how I ended up living with them after turning up one day unannounced on their doorstep. Regular visitors to my blog or Facebook/Instagram pages will know what a love they imparted on me for this wild and rugged landscape, a place I still visit very frequently. The blog has numerous photos including some of me from early childhood to that gangly sixteen-year-old that Lorna and Dick first knew.

*My first mentors*: *Dick & Lorna French of Brendon Barton, Exmoor*

*Exmoor National Park: Aged 16, I suddenly found myself living and working in remote countryside*

Find out about my other pair of mentors, Cyril and Pamela Heber Percy, who came from privileged upper-class families in 2025: Part Two (yet to be written but coming shortly!). The blog will also explore what happened in the last few months of 2025

Three weeks into the new year and Christmas and 2021 already seems the distant past. A new year brings new hopes and plans, not least of all a Covid-free one where holidays and meeting up with friends and family can be carried out without the fear of cancellation. The past couple of years have been challenging and difficult for many people and blogging topics sometimes reflected this as well as the importance of family. Few people can be as tough and courageous as one of my ancestral cousins nor as unfortunate for another to be remembered because of his underwear. There were trials and tribulations for the people of Chipping Norton too, the nearest town to my secret valley and, elsewhere in the Cotswolds, the building of a great country estate to provide training in endangered skills for local people. These stories are a reminder that however large the challenge or the struggle, the end result is more often, very worthwhile.

*1876: HMS Alert – with my cousin aboard – icebound as well as homeward bound*

In July I wrote about the extraordinary story of Welsh vagrant Glyndwr Michael who famously became known as ‘The Man Who Never Was’. His body was used in an elaborate hoax to fool the Germans during WW2. The ruse worked, saving many lives, partly thanks to the use of my cousin’s underwear. Sounds intriguing? Well, if you want to discover why and also how my Polish grandmother fits into the plot you will need to click on the link here to read all about it.

*False papers of Major William Martin, RM [Source: Wikipedia]*

August and September was also a tale of an ancestral cousin who in the May of 1875 set sail for the Arctic. As bizarre as it seems now, the expedition was searching for a ‘lost Eden’. for there was a popular belief that beyond the ice, at the North Pole, they would find a sub-tropical paradise. The expedition created worldwide interest and excitement and was widely reported in the newspapers. When the Royal Family began to take an interest, huge crowds descended on Portsmouth eager to see not just the Queen but ordinary members of the crew. My cousin, John Langston Saggers, a young man aged just 23, could have experienced nothing like it before as they were wined and dined and with no expense spared. To read about the preparation for the voyage and to discover the personal gift from a Royalty concerned that the men may suffer from cold ears click on the link here.

*The dinner for the Officers given by the Mayor of Portsmouth the week before departure* [Source: BNA]

When the ships became icebound, they had to sit out the Arctic winter in total darkness. That, however, did not stop the men from making the most of what they had. Aboard ship they had a full-size theatre where they produced plays and outside on the ice, despite the freezing temperatures and inadequate clothing they created a skating rink and played hockey. Their heroism – and despite (unsurprisingly) not finding a warm paradise – the men returned home to a hero’s welcome. However, the star of the expedition wasn’t human at all. To find out about Nellie and how she very nearly became a coat for an Eskimo chief’s wife click on the link here.

Mid-day, Thursday, 9th November 1876: *HMS Alert & HMS Discovery enter Portsmouth Harbour*

Next month will be the 150th anniversary of the Great Fire at Chipping Norton, one of the gateway towns of the Cotswolds. Although not as popular with tourists as some of the ‘chocolate box’ villages and towns in the region, it boasts one of the Cotswolds most iconic images – that of Bliss Tweed Mill. The mill, that has become so well-known now, rose like a phoenix out of the ashes of the earlier mill which was razed to the ground early one February morning. The story of the fire and how the mill was rebuilt to exacting standards in less than two years is told in October’s blog post. Built to resemble a great house with the most modern technology of the day, it was the pride of the town. The jubilation wasn’t to last and a strike was called which took eighteen months to break. You can read all about the mill and see through numerous photographs how it has been transformed into luxurious apartments; a haven of peace and tranquillity within the town centre by clicking on the link here.

For November, we remained in the Cotswolds to explore the creation of another outstanding property and its gardens. In 1906, Claud Biddulph commissioned the building of a house with “the feel of a cottage in the country”. In so doing, he created one of the finest Arts & Crafts house in Britain, albeit one with seventy-four rooms, so hardly a cottage! Every item used in its creation and furnishing had to be of the best quality and hand-made; one of the reasons why the house took so many years to complete and why it is so exceptional today. Part of the house was dedicated to teaching local people the dying skills required and, more than an hundred years later, craft workshops and exhibitions are still held there. Open regularly to the public so why not take a tour of the house and garden? If you can’t visit physically, you can do so digitally by clicking on this link here.

*Rodmarton Manor seen from one of the ‘garden* *rooms’*

And so we come to December, the year end and the start of this review – you can read what happened during the months of January to June by clicking the link here. I hope that your 2021 hasn’t been too troublesome – now the year is past we can look forward to this one with renewed hopes and aspirations. No doubt there will be challenges ahead but as we know from our own experiences, as well as hearing of those of our ancestors, life continues apace regardless. Sending all my readers, wherever you are in the world (and, my goodness, you’re a scattered bunch!) best wishes for 2022 and with the hope that it will be a happy and healthy one.