2025: The Year in Review – part 2

2026 has come in with a bit of a blast quite literally for we are experiencing a blast of cold air and snow that has swept down from the Arctic.  Here, in our part of the Cotswolds, the snow and ice are more of a nuisance than anything else for there is very little snow cover and the roads have been quite treacherous.  The country folk of yesteryear always said that if the snow hangs around there’s more on the way – time will tell.  It’s been some years since we had deep snow blocking the lanes.

It’s been a few years since we had snow like this

In part 1 of the review (link here), I reflected on the first six months of the year.  It had been quite a successful year for me researching my family history.  I’m fortunate for I can trace them back very many centuries – at the moment I’m reading a book about them in the 1400s!  I also took the opportunity to finally visit the chapel (link here) where one is buried and nothing had prepared me for the splendour of it or how strangely moving the experience was.  I also met with Canadian cousins (this time, living ones!) for the first time and we all commented how strong family bonds can be.  That, and a prompt from you, one of my readers, made me reflect on those other great influencers in our lives, mentors.

The Beauchamp Chapel, named after one of my ancestors, Richard Beauchamp

In June I had written about my first pair of mentors, Dick and Lorna French who lived on a remote farm in Exmoor National Park.  Their story can be found here.  The following month, I wrote about Cyril and Pamela Heber Percy who I first met in my early thirties.  How different they were from Lorna and Dick but how equally valuable were the life lessons they taught me!  The Heber Percy’s had both been brought up by wealthy, landed parents.  Cyril, who was born in 1908, had come from a background that we now associate more with Royalty: it was a house with liveried footman and a strict regime.  Pamela’s family were very different for she was brought up in Ireland where the discipline was far more relaxed.  Both had a deep love for nature and a huge interest in people.  They, like most mentors, had the ability to make you feel very special.  It was with Cyril that I first learnt to fly fish, and it was he that gave me the ability to recognise where the fox had lain and the badger pushed through a hedgerow – more of them in this link here.

It was back to Exmoor for August (link here) to explore the three churches where according to local rhyme and legend no priest would ever go to.  Was it due to them being so remote or was it due to witchcraft?  Or bandits?  Or lepers? Whatever the reason, they are well worth visiting today for they sit in some of the most stunning countryside that you’ll find in England, and in August the hills are cloaked in a purple haze of heather flowers.  One of the three churches is world famous for it was at Oare that Lorna Doone was shot as she stood at the altar on her wedding day.  As with all my blog posts, there are lots of photos to demonstrate what a beautiful area I have been lucky enough to have spent so much time in since my teens.

Oare Church on Exmoor where Lorna Doone was shot on her wedding day

September found me writing about the chance contact by a Cheltenham art gallery asking me for help with a series of watercolours of London street scenes they had acquired.  It turned out that they had been painted by yet another ancestor of mine (they have since been sold and are now in the United States).  My own artistic talent is restricted (as one kind person described it) to painting with plants – I can visualise garden design and create it but I could never offer clients an artist’s impression!  In the blog I explored the various connections I have to people that are skilled artists ranging from present day to those in the past.  It was a fascinating task and not one I’d ever thought much about until I received the prompt from Cheltenham.  To see the London paintings as well as the others I found click on the link here.

One of the four paintings of London that are now in the USA

It was very much back to the Cotswolds for Halloween.  We live very close to the Rollright Stones, parts of which date back six thousand years – so older than Stonehenge.  It has long been a place of ritual and superstition and Rollright and its surrounding villages have an equally long association with witchcraft.  In 1875, a ritual murder was committed.  Poor, elderly Anne Tennent was harmless enough but accused of witchcraft with brutal consequences.  In my research for the blog, I came across a hand-written eye-witness report and had email correspondence with her 4xgreat-grandaughter.  What I hadn’t expected to find was that a similar murder was committed very many years later although the connection to witchcraft was not disclosed until the late 1960s, so well within my lifetime.  And then there are the tales of the mysterious black, headless dog being seen…  When I visited the stones in October offerings had been lain upon them.  Intrigued?  Click on the link here to find out more.

The mysterious Rollright Stones, over 5000 years old and a centre for witchcraft

It had been some time since I last wrote about gardening which is, of course, my hobby turned profession.  One of the constant questions I’m asked – and often a tricky one to answer – is how to screen an unwanted view.  November would be the perfect month for dealing with a problem like that so in Hide that Ugly Wall I looked at the various options.  In the blogpost (link here) we looked at trellis, climbing plants, and ideas for planting in front of the wall, fence or whatever else needed screening.   At the end of the post there is a list of plants of all types and sizes to help with selection.

Screening an ugly wall – in gardening, there is a solution to every problem!

So the year came to an end with reflection upon what had been and 2026 begins a new year of blogging.  As Life in the English Cotswolds enters its seventeenth year all that is left is for me to thank you all for helping to make it such a success.  When I began in 2009 it was to be a short-lived experiment in combining text with images.  I never anticipated that it would be read let alone develop into this!  Now, I hear from people all over the world and have even met a few of you.  It has received awards and featured in national newspapers, and it led to my being involved in setting up a literary festival. It was through this that I was approached to write my book on gardening, Why Can’t My Garden Look Like That?  Who would have thought it?!

Book signing – the publishing contract came as a direct result of blogging

With every good wish for a happy, healthy and peaceful 2026.  I’m very much looking forward to seeing what adventures arise and sharing them here.  If you have any thoughts on topics, ask questions or just fancy a natter I can be contacted through the Get in Touch tab at the top of the page.

A Cotswold Tale for Halloween

The popularity of Halloween in the UK as a fun festival is always considered to be a relatively recent American import.  Nothing could be farther from the truth for it was only with the influx of Scottish and Irish immigrants to the USA during the 1800s that it became a major holiday there.  Halloween’s origins date back to pagan times but it was the Christian calendar that fixed the date for All Saints/Hallows Day as November 1st, (Halloween = Hallows Eve). The traditions that became attached to that, of which there are many, will have to wait another year to be written about.  This blog post is about the Witches associated with Rollright and Long Compton, our very own and tragically real Cotswold story of the Neolithic stone circle and village that lies just a few miles from our home in the secret valley.

Newspaper headlines from 1875
A section of the Kings Men stone circle at the Rollright Stones

The Rollright Stones, prehistoric standing stones dating back almost six thousand years (making them a thousand years older than Stonehenge) consist of a stone circle, and a separate group of three upright stones, plus one large, solitary stone.   Local tradition has it said that the circle known as The King’s Men, The Whispering Knights – the cluster of three upright stones, and the King Stone – the large, solitary stone were all turned to stone by a witch, Mother Shipton.  As early as the 1600s the rhyme (see below) was printed telling of how Mother Shipton challenged the King to take seven steps forward to view the village of Long Compton in the valley below.  He moved forwards but failing to see it the witch turned him, his army and his scheming knights into stone.  All seems too far-fetched and unbelievable?  Then read on…

The Whispering Knights, turned to stone by witch Mother Shipton. They are a thousand years older than Stonehenge
The King Stone stands alone on the hill, still hoping to glimpse the village of Long Compton


In the autumn of 1875 80-year-old Ann Tennant left her home in the village of Long Compton to walk the few hundred yards to the bakers to purchase some bread for her husband’s tea.  It was just like any other day until she met her neighbour’s son, James Heywood.  For many years he had accused her and others in the village of witchcraft, blaming them for various deaths of both people and livestock.  He believed that their evil-eye had prevented him from completing his work in the fields.  He also claimed that they had got inside his drinking water and that was the way they were able to get inside his body and control him.  Meeting her that afternoon on the path he took his opportunity and stabbed her multiple times in the legs with his pitchfork before giving her a blow to the head and stabbing her again.  All this time, Heywood’s father stood nearby not attempting to stop him for he was also convinced there were many witches in the area.

The 17th century lychgate leading to the churchyard where Ann Tennant is buried

It was local farmer James Taylor, hearing her cries, who disarmed James and poor Ann was carried home to die from shock and loss of blood some hours later.  At the inquest, Taylor and a fifteen-year-old lad who had also witnessed the murder gave evidence.  Held in the village pub, The Red Lion, they told of the scene they had witnessed.  Ann’s husband spoke next telling of how the boy’s parents had always said witches wouldn’t leave their son alone.  He also told of how a limb from a tree had fallen onto the boy, leaving him with a scar, and that, too, was blamed on witchcraft.  When Ann’s daughter gave evidence Heywood shouted out, “she’s one as well.  I can name them all and will kill them all.”  Later, at his trial at Warwick Assizes, he was acquitted on grounds of insanity and sentenced to life in Broadmoor mental asylum where he died in 1890.

The Red Lion pub at Long Compton where the inquest into Ann Tennant’s killing took place

You would be forgiven to think that witchcraft and superstition died out with the death of poor Ann Tennant.  Move forward to 1945 – so within living memory for some – to the village of Lower Quinton, some fifteen miles away from Long Compton.   Farm labourer Charles Walton failed to return home from work.  His body was found later that day: his neck had been slashed using his bladed hedging tool and he had been stabbed and pinned to the ground by his pitchfork.  Some reports state that a cross had been cut into his chest.  Several days later a black dog was found hanging from a tree near to the murder scene.

Hedging tools like the ones used by Charles Walton. It was the long-handled slasher on the left
that was used in his killing

It was not until twenty-five years later that Chief Inspector Fabian of Scotland Yard who had led the investigation spoke openly of links to witchcraft.  Apart from warning others not to take part in it he also told of how, when searching the area, he saw a large black dog run past him.  When he mentioned it to a farm lad the boy had turned pale and ran away.   Fabian also told how when questioning local people about the murder, he’d been told that some years earlier a headless black dog had been seen by Charles Walton on nine consecutive days – the following day Walton’s sister died.  Perhaps it was this and his keeping of toads as pets that made some wonder about witches.  However, it was only after Fabian’s public statement that links between Walton’s murder and Elizabeth Tennant’s, all those years earlier, were made.

Handwritten witness account of the murder of Ann Tennent [source: Rachel Cortese-Healey]

So, this is my tale for Halloween.  There is no need for fiction when we live in an area where the belief is still widespread, although rarely openly talked about.  The mystery sightings of black dogs have changed to sightings of large, black cats – are they two of the same?  I visited the Rollright Stones this week and there on one of the stones of the Whispering Knights an offering of thorny, berried hawthorn twigs had been placed.  I’m just glad that a headless, black dog didn’t cross my path.  Do I believe in it all?  Let’s put it this way, I shan’t be venturing anywhere near the Stones on All Hallow’s Eve.

Offerings laid on the Whispering Knights – but are they pagan or witchy?

“…as Long Compton thou cannot see, King of England thou shall not be
Rise up stone to stand alone for thee and thy men shall hoar stone be…”


With special thanks to Rachel Cortese-Healey for permission to reproduce her copy of the handwritten witness account of Ann Tennant’s murder.  Ann is Rachel’s 4x great-grandmother

Sources:
British Newspaper Archive
Wikipedia
Ancestry UK

Where No Priest Will Go

“Culbone, Oare and Stoke Pero – places where no priest will go-o” says the old Exmoor rhyme about three of the moor’s remotest churches.  That’s not totally surprising for they must be some of the most isolated in England and all involve considerable effort to reach even with today’s modern transport.  Or, perhaps, it was because of their association with witches, bandits and lepers that made them reluctant to go. In his book, Exmoor Memories, A(rthur) G(ranville) Bradley writing of his time spent on Exmoor in the 1860s, tells of how the parson of Simonsbath church wouldn’t stay on the moor during the winter, leaving his parishioners to spiritually fend for themselves.  With no roads at that time crossing the moor, one can hardly blame him.

even today, Exmoor is a wild and rugged place

I recently visited Culbone church which can still only be reached on foot.  Whichever of the two routes you take, a very steep climb is involved but the effort is well worthwhile when you finally get there.  The deep wooded combe opens up just enough to allow room for the church and two houses.  It is a very tranquil spot and, resting there in an attempt to recover breath, it did feel very spiritual too – perhaps because records show that it has been a place of worship and meditation for over sixteen hundred years.  The present church was mentioned in the Domesday Book so is just a mere one thousand years old!

Culbone has been a place of worship & silent contemplation for over sixteen hundred years
the private box pews where only the gentry would sit

Claiming to be the smallest parish church in England – it is only 35 foot x 11 foot in size – it can seat about thirty on its hard, wooden pews.  It also has a small box pew where the family of Ashley Combe House once sat.  Like many of the buildings that must have once populated the area, Ashley Combe House has long since disappeared.  Entering the church through its thirteenth-century porch two things are immediately noticeable: first that it is still lit by gas and secondly, the ancient, stone font, now also well over a thousand years old.

the church is still let by gaslamp
the one thousand year old font – how many baptisms has it seen?

Despite the hardship in reaching the church and its very few houses, it is still very much a living church with services held there fortnightly.  However, the priest, perhaps mindful of the old rhyme or the lepers that once roamed the woods lives elsewhere.  To visit Culbone it is possible to park the car by the sea at Porlock Weir and climb 400 feet to reach it or, as we did, park at the top and walk down.  If that sounds the easy option, remember there is still the steep climb back!  Either way you’ll be rewarded with breathtaking sea views and the chance to glimpse a way of life (and worship) now almost totally past.

the church is hidden in a deep, wooded combe
Porlock Weir

Oare church, these days is by far the easiest of the three churches to reach for it is just a short drive down a narrow lane from the A38 Porlock-Lynmouth coastal road.  Famed for its association with Lorna Doone, the novel by R D Blackmore, Lorna was shot at the altar on her wedding day by the wicked outlaw Carver Doone.  A pretty, riverside walk through the stronghold of the Doones, the Doone Valley, is possible from nearby Malmsmead where there is camping as well as an art gallery and coffee shop named the Buttery.  Overlooking the picturesque bridge and ford, it also serves great food and is well worth a visit.

Oare church is easily approached by a narrow lane
the bridge and ford at Malmsmead

Compared with the church at Culbone, Oare is a relative newcomer having been built in the 1400s and then partially rebuilt four hundred years later.  Inside, it is light and airy with memorials to Blackmore and also to the Snow family who feature in the novel.  Blackmore tended to use local family names and traditions in his writing and mixing fact with fiction.  Ridd is another local name; its variation Red is recorded on many of the gravestones at Culbone. For those not too familiar with the tale of Lorna Doone, or to see photos of the Doone Valley take a look at my earlier blogs, The Story of Lorna Doone – just a myth? and A Walk in the Doone Valley.

the interior of Oare church is very light and airy
the window through which Carver Doone shot Lorna on her wedding day as she stood at the altar

There are wonderful, albeit rather long, walks to Stoke Pero church from Horner Woods (car park at Webber’s Post or in the village of Horner), taking in the ‘four corners of Horner’ and distant views of Dunkery Beacon, the highest point of Exmoor. It is well worth the effort for apart from the views there is a good chance, providing you walk quietly, of spotting red deer, the largest of our wild deer and for which Exmoor is now one of its few remaining strongholds.  There is plentiful wildlife to be seen along the river too – Dippers and Kingfishers and with Buzzards soaring overhead.  You may even be lucky enough to see Red Kites or even White-tailed Sea Eagles which are becoming ever-more frequent visitors to the area.

Dunkery Beacon from Webber’s Post
wild red deer hind with its calf half-hidden in the deep woodland

It is possible to drive to Stoke Pero although the lanes are long, winding and narrow.  The road even passes through a working farmyard which confuses many, especially visitors from overseas who find our narrow lanes scary enough at the best of times! If you choose to reach the church this way you will fully understand why a priest might not want to be bothered to travel there. Below is an Ordnance Survey map showing the three churches; I would strongly advise to carry a paper, rather than digital, version of the map for phone signals can be a bit erratic in such remote countryside.

the three churches – a good map and equally good boots are essential if travelling by foot

We’ve had lepers and bandits with our previous two churches which only leaves witches as a possible reason (other than the journey) why Stoke Pero might have been clergy-less.  Look closely at the old oak door and scratched into its surface are a series of lines: witches marks.  ‘Apotropaic’ marks to give them their correct name are symbols carved into buildings to ward off witches and protect people from evil spirits.  They are usually found wherever there is a point of entry such as doors, windows or chimneys and usually date back many centuries when belief of the supernatural was commonplace.  It is not known when the marks at Stoke Pero were made or what they mean but they may well have literally put the fear of God into any visiting priest.

witches marks – apotropaic marks – on the church door at Stoke Pero

The church at Stoke Pero lays claim to being the highest on Exmoor for it stands, isolated at over 1000 feet above sea level.  Although much of the building is only a couple of hundred years old, the church tower dates from the 1200s, as does a list of the rectors which rather belies the story of lack of clergy.  Like Culbone, an earlier church here is mentioned in the Domesday Book and, also like Culbone, services are held here lit by candles or gas lamps.

old sign staking its claim as highest church!
Stoke Pero church sits high on a bank

I blogged about Stoke Pero over fifteen years ago (link here) and mentioned how simple its interior is with its whitewashed walls, the only colour being the splash of red from the altar cloth.  Revisiting recently, unsurprisingly the place hasn’t changed, and the barrel roof is as spectacular as ever.  However, this time I noticed other things too such as the delicate ferns growing inside the window of the ancient bell tower and the contrast between the rough-hewn stone windows and the smooth white plasterwork.

the magnificent barrel roof of Stoke Pero church
ferns grow in the cool shade found inside the ancient bell tower

If you have the opportunity to visit Exmoor, now protected by its National Park status, there is much to see – but only if your pleasure comes from the joy of being in wild, open places for it remains remarkably uncommercialised.  It has much to offer apart from the moorland (spectacular at this time of years smothered in purple heather) for it has the sea, rugged cliffs, fast-running boulder-strewn rivers and the unspoilt little towns of Porlock, Lynton and Lynmouth. It is a walker and nature lovers paradise.

the heather moorland tumbles away to the sea
Lynmouth

Regular readers of my blog will know of my love of Exmoor which I discovered now nearly sixty years ago.  They may even recall how through a chance meeting it changed the direction of my life, giving me an outdoor career as well as many Exmoor friends.  More remarkably, I have found numerous family references to the moor, unknown at the time, for A G Bradley was my grandmother’s cousin and other family members lived and are buried at Luccombe, a village not too far from Stoke Pero.  An uncle was involved with the rebuilding of Lynmouth after the devastating floods and loss of life in 1952 and a few years prior to that my parents honeymooned on the moor.  A small world indeed and one in a small way I have been privileged to be part of.

my first night spent on Exmoor – many, many years ago!
old postcard of the cottage in Luccombe where my ancestors lived in the early 1900s

Having a Blackthorn Winter?

 

The first trees are beginning to bloom in the Cotswolds; in a few days’ they will be billowing clouds of white blossom.  My father, a countryman through and through, would always mark the occasion by repeating the old English warning of a coming “blackthorn winter” and “the cold blow” ahead.  But was he correct?

h-about-1964-2-copyright

The blackthorn (Prunus spinosa), also commonly known as sloe, is frequently used as a hedging plant where its tangled and viciously thorny branches make an impenetrable, stock-proof barrier.  When left untrimmed it grows into a small tree.blackthorn-blossoms-crowd-an-old-cotswold-green-lane-copyright

I haven’t found a referral to the earliest date for a blackthorn winter but it almost certainly goes back centuries for the blackthorn is a ‘magick’ tree and often used in witchcraft.  But can it really dictate the weather?  Common sense says ‘no’ unless, of course you believe in magick.

blackthorn-3-copyright

Pretty flowers hide vicious thorns

There appears to be a problem with my father’s and others belief in the blackthorn winter.  The tree that blooms first and so often referred to is not blackthorn but the cherry plum, another Prunus – Prunus cerasifera.  Sometimes known as the Myrobalan Plum, it is also found in hedgerows and when allowed to grow to full height is often covered in red or golden cherry-sized, edible fruits.  It was introduced from southern Europe about three hundred years ago.

cherry-plum-copyright

Prunus cerasifera, the Cherry or Myrobalan Plum

So, blackthorn or cherry plum?  For the time being we will be having a “cherry plum winter”.  The sloe will blossom in about three weeks’ time when we will probably have the blackthorn winter too for one thing is proven: in England, we are far more likely to have a spell of wintry weather now than we ever are in December.  Either way, let us hope that it is a good year for both trees for then we can look forward to cherry plum pies washed down with a nice glass of sloe gin.

cherry-plums-copyright

Cherry Plums

blackthorn-sloes-copyright

Sloe Berries

Footnote:  according to the British Meteorological Office, the term “blackthorn winter” originated in the Thames Valley, the birthplace of my father and where I was brought up.  It will be interesting to know many of you use the term and where in the world you are located.