Adlestrop Park, Gloucestershire

The afternoon saw us head south towards Chipping Norton once again. I suggested two places to explore; Churchill, Oxfordshire, then Adlestrop, Gloucestershire, with about 5 miles separating the two. I had previously been to neither.

Churchill seemed worth a visit, if only because the name made me think of bulldogs and union jack bunting. It is built on the top and rise of a hill. On arriving, the predominance of signs indicating the centre of interest would be at the bottom of the hill, at the Heritage Centre, the historical heart of the village. It seems the timbers and thatch there succumbed to a devastating chimney fire in 1684 which would drive the locals up the hill to reconstruct their village. All that remained at the foot of the hill was the old church chancel. So the Centre is not a new construction, but that old chancel following change of use.

Inside the chancel is a small exhibition recollecting the life and times of two sons of Churchill, Warren Hastings (1732–1818) and William Smith (1769–1839). Smith is hailed 'the father of geology', while Hastings is remembered as the first Governor-General of British India.

Ten minutes later we were marching up the hill again. The new church at the top, also dedicated to All Saints, is a feast in perpendicular style. Built in 1837, it has seen its own share of misfortune. The tower was in need of restoration by 1975 and in 2007 the church was savaged by fire, all now happily put right.

At Adlestrop, we parked by the tiny thatched post office and general store. My map revealed a walk would take us from the church across Adlestrop Park in the direction of where I figured we might see something of the old railway station. The path was found around a bend between the church and Adlestrop House, and where a stream gently tumbled over the left hand margins.

Adlestrop House was formerly the rectory, and between 1794 and 1806 was occupied by the Reverend Thomas Leigh, a cousin of Jane Austen's mother. Austen is reputed to have drawn inspiration for her novel 'Mansfield Park' after the several visits she made here.

Passing the house and descending to where the ground levels out and the path and stream cross,  we picked our way carefully through the sinking, slushy ground to where entrance to the Park is gained. Within the Park, as one might expect, was an assembly of well-spaced, mature, native trees. Our southerly route was guided by lines of railings. To the east, were hectares for sheep to graze, and that to our immediate west was set aside for the gents to pay cricket. The cricket green appears in the foreground of this picture.

Interest in the railway station stems from Edward Thomas (1878-1917), another English poet to fall in France. Thomas chose to immortalise an experience of otherwise complete insignificance, as he sat at Adlestrop for a minute, in June 1914,
pondering its name on the station sign and waiting for his train to start again. We didn't find the station or anything resembling it. The whole lot was torn down shortly after its closure in 1966. All that remains from those days is the sign Thomas must have stared at, now transferred from the rail line to the bus shelter.

Later, a quality birthday tea and a visit to see M&D who played no small part on the occasion, followed by beers with Phil and Steve. Tomorrow I shall buy cakes.

Yes. I remember Adlestrop—
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.

The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform. What I saw
Was Adlestrop—only the name

And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.

And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.

Edward Thomas.