The language of Wiltshire

For those who have not heard the dialect spoken........... An example of my native language, an anecdote in the tradition of The Moonraker Story

The Bule

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Teffont again.

Previous photographs show the village of Teffont Evias, these now posted show the other end of the village, Teffont Magna, lying to the north of Teffont Evias.

The small church dating from the late 13th century, like many old places the beauty and symmetry has been ruined by the inept placing of modern street furniture. The stone parapet to the gables hint that the roof was originally of thatch.

A bobbed and fringed cottage looking open mouthed in amazement or surprise.

The house has a plaque built in to the gable end referring to the Fitz family, the house a jumble of additions and alterations over the years.

The Post Office once occupied the utilitarian lean-to extension to the cottage.

The stream runs through the village adding greatly to the charm. Trout lurk in the shade under the bridges.

Tyres from farm carts propped against a tree which must have been but a sapling when they were placed there. Someone shares my enthusiasm for "tidying up".

A cob wall built of rammed layers of locally dug soil bound with the addition of fibrous plant material such as straw, heather, bracken or whatever found locally. A cheap method of walling which can endure for centuries if its head and feet are kept dry.

Graffiti on the walls of the church, a quick look at the 1841 census leads me to believe either a Frederick Mullins or a Frederick Macey should have been "assisting with enquiries".

Ansty, A Spring Day.

Ansty is a village to the west of Salisbury and south of Tisbury.The Knights Hospitaller settled in Ansty in 1211 and built the church which was finished in 1230. They also built a preceptory adjacent to the church, the building there now is 'modern', dating from only 1596.
The village is well worth a visit, it is surely one of the most beautiful in England with thatched cottages, stream and woodland.

Ansty is one of the few villages in England to have a permanent maypole. The present maypole is not as tall as formerly, due no doubt to Health and Safety regulations. I can remember seeing the erection of an earlier maypole as a child; it was all achieved by stout locals with ropes and not a member of the H & S Executive in sight. Not a single injury but I expect some sore heads the next day from the ensuing celebrations in the adjacent pub.

The pond, which dates from the same era as the church.

If you wish for a house in the country, this is one to aspire to.

The Church of St James, my eldest son was christened here, the latest in a long line of my family christened, married and buried here.

The modern replacement building for the 13th century preceptory.

I can remember seeing the blacksmith that used this building as a forge in the fifties put a red hot iron tyre on a cartwheel outside these doors amid clouds of smoke and steam; there was a large round metal dish in the ground to assist the operation. It has now gone, a victim of the passion to 'tidy up', and in so doing destroying a part of our history and heritage.

Opposite the building shown above is a modern house built in the nineteen sixties, a garage has been added since then, it is a fine example of how to build new in an old village. Behind is a lane which I remember using to collect thatching spars from the coppice to the left. The thatcher lived in the village and as a service used to cut the hair of the village men and boys.

Mere, Castle Hill.

A look at Mere:

Castle Hill, in glorious February sunshine

Celandines enjoying the sun after an earlier frost.

Looking west on the climb up.

Looking north west, Zeals Knoll in the distance.

Sunshine and shadow, looking north.


The A303, empty... unlike on summer weekends

Looking north east.

On the way back down, but still higher than St Michael's Church.

Someone fitter than me climbs the hill to raise and lower the flag.

The Wessex Division memorial

Burton near Mere.

The Mill Pool, Burton

A quiet amble along the footpath from Burton to Mere.
Ashfield Water flowing into the Mill Pool above an old mill.

Mill Wheel Burton

The iron water wheel, stationary and allowing free energy to flow away.

The outflow from the mill.

Old bridge over the mill outflow

shallows downstream from the mill

Crystal clear spring water on its way to join Shreen Water then to the River Stour and the sea at Christchurch.

Teffont, not famous....

First primroses, late January.

The first primroses of the year push through the dead leaves to add to the landscape. It is difficult to state anything famous about Teffont, it's a pretty place though, perhaps that is fame enough.

Chalk stream shallow and clean

Enjoy while you can; no doubt within a decade the open space on the stream bank will be built on, another fake old house for another fake old countryman newcomer perhaps.

Grotesque hedge, Teffont Evias

In the stream are native brown trout, small but fighting fit. Make a quiet approach and you may spot one lying doggo alongside a drift of weed, more likely you will catch a flash of movement as it dashes upstream.

Fonthill Park.

Spring is on the way, snowdrops at Fonthill

Fonthill Park was laid out by the Beckfords, a lake was formed by creating a dam across a feeder stream to the River Nadder. This area was landscaped, planted and laid out to give the classical 'English Landscape'

To the north of the lake as you approach Fonthill Bishop there is a gatehouse to the park in the form of an arch. The arch is still a dwelling and must be one of the most desirable properties in England.



The lake is for the most part fringed with trees, mature beech trees dip their branches into the water and provide nesting sites for water birds such as the Coot or Moorhen. As a child in the 'hungry fifties' when most working class kids never seemed to have enough to eat, there was a good meal available at the risk of a wetting. The trick is to climb the tree, shin down the branch, take some eggs and return trying all the time to avoid falling in or breaking the eggs. They standard method of preventing breakage was to carry the egg in the mouth. The eggs were boiled in water dipped from the lake in an old OXO tin; delicious, flavoursome and nutritious free-range fare for growing lads and lasses. More adventurous types were known to supplement the meal with a fish course of grilled fresh trout ( perhaps that should read poached trout).

Fonthill Park has a more recent history as a military camp area during WWII, American troops were stationed here and many beech trees in the area bore the initials of these temporary visitors carved into their bark.
All road junctions near the park were paved with granite cobbles or concrete to withstand the slewing of the tank tracks as the tanks turned; the evidence of this is under the modern road surface and will give future archaeologists something to ponder. An area at the top of the lane from the lake at its junction with the Hindon-Tisbury road is extensively paved, now almost obscured by the encroachment of nature and is known locally as Tank Park.
Anyone researching their family history in this area will find transcripts of census returns and marriages from 1625 to 1837 here.

For other local and Wiltshire parishes follow links on the Parish Directory of The Wiltshire OPC Project

Hindon, once important.

Looking north towards Hindon, late January

Hindon, now a small village once was a 'rotten borough' and sent two Members to Parliament. The votes were negotiable in those days before the secret ballot and were paid for; copious quantities of beer and wine usually did the trick. In 1812, local character William Beckford ( of which more will be said in other posts ) managed to spend the very considerable sum of £2,641.8s.4d to get elected.
The ploughed area behind the church steeple once was the site of a fair, at which cattle were sold. (14,000+ in a week I have read) Cattle arrived by means of drover's roads over the downs; Hindon is near the intersection of these ancient roads. The roads had generous verges which allowed the cattle to graze along the way. The presence of Scots Pine trees alongside the road or track is a good indicator of an ancient drover's road.

old drovers road, very wide verge and Scots Pine trees.

The photograph above is a drover's road near a place called by locals, confusingly, 'One Mile Up Two Mile Down'; to explain..... a down is an area of upland, this ridge of upland is about two miles long running from Hindon to Willoughby Hedge ( on the A303 ). The place photographed is reckoned to be one mile from Hindon.... hence the name.
In the old records for East Knoyle, the adjacent parish, there is a mention of a farmer called Willoughby, who presumably planted a hedge, and is now immortalised by a filling station, Little Chef and a services lay-by at a place known now as Willoughby Hedge.