 |
| "The Sycamore Inn" in Parwich |
Parwich is a fairly substantial village in the Peak District. No A or B roads pass through it and when I approached it from the main Ashbourne to Buxton road, the signpost at the lane end had disappeared so I had to check my map and then turn back. The lane itself was very narrow with passing places and overhanging trees - it was as if I was travelling through a green sunlit tunnel to some magical place.
 |
| House in Parwich by a little stream that feeds the village pond |
And Parwich is indeed magical. Its houses are all constructed from local white-grey limestone. There's a village green, a pond, a church, a village hall, a bowling green and a pub - "The Sycamore Inn". A woman in a floral dress rode past me on an old black bicycle with a wicker basket on the front. It was as if I was suddenly back in the 1950's.
 |
| The bowling green in Parwich |
 |
| Norman doorway - Bradboune Church |
The village that time forgot. No crime or immigrants. No vandalism or vulgarity Respectable white Anglo-Saxon England as it used to be. I almost expected Morris dancers to jangle round the corner or shire horses pulling carts of newly scythed hay from surrounding meadows. And the sun shone down like soothing honey on an early summer's day that seemed timeless and untroubled. Bees hummed in the hedgerows and docile cows with big brown eyes looked up from buttercup pastures as I strode by.
To Sitterlow and Gorsehill Farm then on to Bradbourne Mill and Bradbourne - a "thankful village" - thankful because the eighteen men who left it to fight in World War One all came home. There are only fifty one such villages in our country. Then onwards to Dullands Farm and past the redundant little church in Ballidon. Its last ever service was in April 2003. Then up to Ballidon limestone quarry and along lovely Monsdale Lane back to Parwich. Magical and utterly therapeutic.
 |
| Llama at Gorsehill Farm |
It wasn't the easiest of walks because several of the paths have clearly known very few boots for years and a couple of times I got a little lost but it wasn't the Australian bush. It was deepest Derbyshire and I was never going to be lost for long.
At one point I looked to the hillock above me and saw of all things a strapping great llama. Then more ears appeared over the grassy knoll - a veritable herd of them all looking my way. Keep your distance you guys! I hopped over the nearby stile quite sharpish. After all, it's hard to argue with South American mammals when you don't speak Spanish!
 |
| The disused church in Ballidon |
 |
| Monsdale Lane, Parwich |
 |
| The ford at Bradbourne Mill |
It is a lovely village. A bit twee for my taste but you do tend to be very good at idealisation. The vicar there in the late sixties tried to grope my little brother. We went to put a show on at the village hall and he got his bum felt.
ReplyDeleteChelmorten is another place you would do justice to especially approached via Five Wells from the old council tip and the drovers drinking hole. The vicar at Chelmorten got apprehended for misbehaving with a pig. Sorry to lower the tone of a wonderful post but you started it by your aside about immigrants.
What is it about serving God that turns some religious men into perverts and paedophiles? Funny how this doesn't seem to apply to Muslim clerics... or is that another Pandora's box waiting to be opened?
Delete...or is it that paedophiles/perverts see their chance and move into the world of the church?
DeleteBrian - were you perchance a choirboy at Holy Trinity Church, Elsecar during the reign of The Very Reverend Dick Cockburn? If so, counselling can still be arranged.
DeleteRespectable quaint old peaceful England... I bet there are some interesting, and not so respectable, deeds taking place behind the curtains all the same :)
ReplyDeleteYes, I bet some Parwich villagers even watch ITV and have three "Shredded Wheat"!
DeleteTurn again and I wonder how your descriptive narrative of Parworth has turned into a persuasive argument about pedophilia and beastiality.
ReplyDeleteParwich even ~ I am sure there is a Parworth somewhere for you to explore.
DeleteAs far as I can tell, nowhere in this old world is there a place called Parworth Carol but many people have the surname Parworth. It was the first commenter who knocked this genteel Parwich post into the nasty territory to which you refer. Now, who could that be?
DeleteThat sounds like my kind of village..."The village that time forgot. No crime or immigrants. No vandalism or vulgarity Respectable white Anglo-Saxon England as it used to be." That's how it should be.
ReplyDeleteI love places that time forgot....where no idiots roam free. :)
I accept that nowhere is perfect and that behind closed doors there will be some demons but Parwich still seems like heaven to me.
DeleteSounds like a lovely village. We often dream and debate which village we would live in if we were able to come and live for a year and that's the sort of place we would choose....and the Peak District is lovely. Lots to see and do there. Love those green tunnels!
ReplyDeleteIf you picked Parwich, you couldn't do much better Helen! Tony could be captain of the pub's darts team and you could show off your quilting skills to the Women's Institute.
DeleteIve never heard of the village... Off to google it
ReplyDeleteHappy googling!
DeleteYou have a very pleasant area to go for
ReplyDeletea good afternoon walk.
It's about twenty two miles from our house Red.
DeleteEnchanting! I would have loved to look around the village and imagine the lives of the people who live there.
ReplyDeleteOf course you know that you "got me" with the abandoned church.
There was a sign saying "DANGER - Unsafe building" which made me all the more keen to gain entry but the door was locked.
DeleteA lovely lane. in England's green and pleasant land.
ReplyDeleteMs Soup
Some city/media/tablet people may imagine that this kind of England is long gone but it really isn't Alphie. It is still there if you bother to look.
Delete