A Cotswold Tale for Halloween

Posted on October 29, 2025 by johnshortlandwriter

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 1^st, (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.

*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

Posted on August 17, 2025 by johnshortlandwriter

“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 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*

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*

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.

*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!*

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*

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?

Posted on March 3, 2017 by johnshortlandwriter

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.

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.

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

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.