A walk on the mild side…

Hi,

Just a quick email to say how useful I've found the blog, particularly as a prospective Tysoean (or Tysoenese, I defer to your experience in such matters). I’m moving your way, you see, and was wondering if you had any tips on where to wander first, what to look out for etc? Local intelligence and any advice much appreciated. No obligation, of course, but my wife and particularly poorly behaved collie want to put the right foot first, if you see what I mean.

Kind regards and keep up the good work,

Tom

Dear Tom –

Many thanks for your wonderful email – which I’m pretty sure is the first piece of ‘fanmail’ that I’ve received, in a year of writing (mostly) about the place I live; the place I love. You’re obviously possessed with excellent taste – both in writers and in villages – so feel free to give yourself a pat on the back; and why not treat yourself to a pint, the next time you find yourself in one of our local pubs!

Seriously, though, I’m glad the blog is both useful, and being read by people who don’t already live here (“Tysoeans”, I think – although that makes us sound vaguely mythical or mystical; inhabitants of an almost 21st-century Shangri-La: which, of course, isn’t too far from the truth…). I’m also pleased that it hasn’t dented your attraction to the place.

You may have to go elsewhere for “local intelligence”, though… – but, as to “advice” on where to wander: well, you’ll be spoilt for choice! When we moved here, we ordered an OS Select map from Ordnance Survey, centred on our new home: and we immediately discovered that there are footpaths galore spiralling out from the village, connecting us like a beautifully-designed walker’s web to our neighbouring villages, and beyond. Alternatively, you could grab yourself a copy of the local OS Landranger Map (151: Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwick & Banbury) – which will give you a wider range of places to explore.

So, where to go first? Well, although it currently lacks both its sails and its stocks, the windmill – on the appropriately-named Windmill Hill, between Upper Tysoe and Compton Wynyates – is an obvious landmark; and it’s up a hill (d’oh): so good exercise for all three of you! At 181 metres above sea-level, it is also a great place to survey your new domain – with wonderful views particularly north (overlooking the three Tysoes) and west (towards Shipston-on-Stour and Chipping Campden) – or, on a warm day, to have a leisurely picnic. (What do you mean: you left the wine chilling in the fridge?!)

Should you wish, instead of returning to the village, you can then wander over the far side of the hill – with your rucksacks lightened and tummies filled – down past the stunning Compton Wynyates house (sadly no longer open to the public), and across the fields – on the flat – to Whatcote or Oxhill: both of which have the requisite pub – the friendly Royal Oak and my favourite (especially for fine food), The Peacock, respectively.

If you take the path to Whatcote, you will eventually join the Centenary Way (which leaves Upper Tysoe via Tysoe Manor, one of the village’s many listed buildings). This path is well worth exploring in both directions: and, if you don’t mind the odd gradient, clambering up by Old Lodge Farm is the best way to get to our nearest National Trust property, Upton House – which has wonderful gardens, a great restaurant, and one of the best interiors of any stately home I know (especially if, like me, you’re a fan of interesting art and comfortable chairs!) – or even further along the Edge Hill ridge (famously overlooking the first pitched battle of the English Civil War).

Depending how new you are to the wider area, it contains a plethora of local National Trust properties (although not many will welcome a “particularly poorly behaved collie” I’m afraid – otherwise I would have raved about Charlecote Park: which is home to a herd of fallow deer and a flock of Jacob sheep); and Stratford-upon-Avon itself is good for gentle strolls down by the River Avon, or up into the Welcombe Hills. (Have a look at my online Warwickshire photo gallery, if you need further inspiration; or take a peek at my list of Local links.)

But you don’t always have to leave the village (Mrs Bard particularly enjoys exploring the area around the Epwell Road): as there are byways through, and connecting, all parts of it – and all pretty much on the flat – so, when I’m feeling less energetic (which is pretty much my default mode, at the moment), I’m happy just to toddle along the back lanes to the church and back; or, following the footpath beyond the church and primary school, stretch my legs as far as Lower Tysoe. As I’ve said before, “the three hamlets – from Tysoe Manor to Lane End Farm – are less than two miles from end-to-end (and that’s using the roads; not cutting corners with our frequent footpaths, or as the numerous crows fly…)”: so it’s no great strain, and there is much to be enjoyed (including a wide selection of wildlife) – whichever direction you head in!

Hopefully, this will have given you a few ideas, for once you’ve settled in (or just can’t be bothered unpacking the twentieth box of the morning…). Welcome to Tysoe! I hope the place brings you many happy times and memories.

The wheel of heaven turns above us endlessly

This is all the heaven we got, right here where we are in our Shangri-La.

– Mark Knopfler: Our Shangri-La

There may be lambs in Tysoe and Oxhill…

…already snuggling up to their mothers against the cold north-easterly wind; but there were none to be seen, yesterday afternoon, during my walk up to the Grade II listed Philips obelisk, and around the surrounding Welcombe Hills Country Park.

Towards the end of April, last year – making the time, each day, to go on an Expotition: for the twin sakes of my physical and mental wellbeings – I decided I’d try and take some ‘cute’ lamb shots (as I tried again yesterday – but failed…): so went up into the Welcombe Hills (although that makes it sound a bit like the Himalayas, rather than the North Pole…).

One of the first sheep I came across, though, was obviously in some distress: as, having already produced one healthy offspring, her next was stillborn. She tried to coax it into life by reflexively nuzzling and licking it: but to no avail. This also meant, of course, that she was ignoring her first lamb: who was still covered in blood and mucus; but had managed to get to its feet, and was investigating its dead sibling. Luckily, the farmer was only a few hundred yards away, and dealt with it all swiftly and calmly (and, sadly, routinely) – with me as token assistant, as well as summoner. An hour later, on my return, the ewe was busily fussing over her only baby; and all was well.

When I originally uploaded it, I made no apologies for the following photograph – and therefore make none, now. It represents the daily truth and challenges… of farming, specifically; and the countryside, in general. Having worked on a farm, this should have been nothing new to me. I realized, quite quickly, though, that it had made a major impact… – which is why I remembered it so vividly, yesterday, traipsing the same route.

The climate and terrain in the country park is that little bit more exposed (even though, at just over a hundred metres, the Welcombe Hills are pretty much the same height above sea level as Main Street) – witnessed by the views afforded to and from the obelisk – which is why the lambing is that little bit later. Not too long to wait, though, if the current girth of the ewes is anything to go by; plus their gathering close to Lower Welcombe Farm, and the preparation of paddocks for newborn singletons, common twins and infrequent triplets.

Although seventy metres or so above the Avon, many of the footpaths in the hills are still clogged with deep, dank, muddy puddles (as, therefore, were my feet); the fields still saturated with our wettest winter. It will take many, many more rainless and sunny days to even begin to dry these out (although, after hosing them down, I’m hoping my trusty walking boots will be ready much sooner). Such sustained weather would also encourage lambing, of course: with a ready supply of fresh grass and soothing warmth providing the necessary sustenance and comfort for mothers and children alike. (Sheep milk is extremely tasty and nutritious, by the way: and is perfect for ice cream, as well as cheese. Lucky lambs!)

Let’s hope, therefore, that next time I’m up there – there will be Pretty Baa-Lambs for me to capture!

PS: Goodbye, Bob Crow – possibly the last of the great union leaders (and the same age as me…). A true working-class hero: wrought out of a solid block of grit; and yet still imperceptibly fragile. “I’m not going to be hanging around for ever. I won’t be one of these people like Lenin in a mausoleum.”