Discovering Stoneywell

If you should pass through Charnwood on a sunny afternoon

You might just spot a sign to Stoneywell

And there beside the hornbeams and the heathers you will find

A haven with some tales still to tell.

James Bilson found a site to build in 1897

Two cottages for workman was his plan

Ernest Gimson, architect, was asked to do the job           

But he wanted someone else to share the land.

Gimson most admired the views he found at Ulverscroft.

At Chitterman, he toiled for just a year.

Then his brothers who were keen to leave the Leicester smog behind

Were persuaded they might come and settle here.

So Ernest set about the task of building yet again 

Two cottages for Mentor and for Syd.

Lea cottage, white and dressed in thatch, adjacent to the road

And Stoneywell secluded and well hid.

With the stable block behind you a footpath stretches forth.

Past fortresses where youthful limbs once played. 

Through the bilberries and ericas the sheep-walk leads you down

To a summer home where memories were made

The site that Ernest favoured lay beyond a twisted rowan

Thus a house was born, emerging from the granite

Along a zigzag path she stretched, tumbling down a slope.

Only genius would have the gaul to plan it.

Not only was he 'architect' he furnished them as well

From his workshop in the Cotswolds as his base

So he needed someone special to supervise the build

That's when Detmar Blow was brought in on the case

Now Detmar had a habit if he spied a rock he'd grab it.     

He'd take them from another fellah's land

He'd knock down some stone-wall, then he'd make it up again

So you might say, 'stones he used were second-hand.'

Strolling through this home so many wonders are revealed

It's a 'curious and enigmatic place.'

Where artistry and craftsmanship are skillfully combined

Giving glimpses of the past in time and space.

Though this cottage is spectacular its style remains vernacular

Simplicity and workmanship are key

An architectural gem that's distinctly arts and craft

But I've said enough, so now you come and see.

A Walking tour through the Woodhouses

Proceeding from the hilltop overlooking Woodhouse Eaves,

Here, the remnants of a windmill can be seen.

If the viewing platform's open you could see to Loughbro' town 

If it wasn't for them Outwoods in between.

Descend the leafy bower from the windmill and you'll find

A wayside chapel, lower down the lane

Through a trio of arched windows, do I spy a wisp of smoke?

Mrs Mollart's burnt the welsh-cakes yet again!

 

Across the road to Maplewell, you'll spot a timbered hall 

Where the lib'rals often met, in days of yore.

Here they spouted rousing speeches from the balcony above,

Even though the peasants found it quite a bore.

From this hall of liberty, raise your eyes towards the arch

That still stands below the summit of Nanhill.

As a tribute to those lads who went off to fight a war

Gone forever, though the memories linger still.

There lies a hidden gem, just beyond these hedges tall

A roundhouse, 'neath the thatch, to store the game.

What sort of game? I hear you ask, I haven't got a clue

But the balls must have been massive all the same.

A stroll along the donkey slip, which posh folk call 'Church Walk,'

Leads us on towards the rect'ry of St. Paul's.

For those who like their facts, 'twas the home of Basement Jaxx

Though no longer does their music rock these walls.

The "stone hole" lies behind the school, some folks call it a cave

Where the village children played come rain or shine. 

But I think it is a shame, that they removed the old school bell

I would want to nab it back, if it was mine.     

The Forest Rock has bit the dust, the Pear Tree is still serving

They have pastas, pizzas even panacotta.

But I mustn't say much more now or they'll say this is an 'ad'

Yet given half the chance, I'd eat the lotta.

The charming Slaters' Row is quite a picture to behold.

Hydrangeas grace each plot and cottage door. 

All those blooming flowers, don't they make a lovely show?

'Bet you've rarely seen such bloomers here before.

With barely one more hop, you're at Oakwood, Chemist shop 

Where the staff dispense advice with caring smiles

They'll never make a fuss as they sort you out a truss 

Or recommend a cream for all those piles.

On your right, the village hall, just in time to make a call

If we're lucky we might find they've got a rummage

Young farmers, guides or cubs have been scrounging round the pubs

Get there early or it can be quite a scrummage.

The surgery lies straight ahead, they strive to keep us healthy

The Methodists, next door, will deal with sin.

And if you cry, "But I am fit and pretty close to perfect." 

Then you're a 'better man than I am, Gunga Din.'

Stroll across the King's Field, picnic here or watch the cricket.

To Woodhouse next, with little time to rest.

Through meadows, passed old Rawlins' school and on to 'Pepper Lane'

To that cottage which, quite frankly, is a Pest.

For here lived Thomas Rawlins, who escaped a horrid death

When a pedlar called for rest and B and B.

Thank goodness he did not unpack his rucksack full of plague

But carried on to Eyam after Tea.

With Garat's Hay behind your back, approach the Welbeck site

No photographs! They'll slap you in the cooler.

The milit'ry security is pretty tight round here.

So we don't mess with the forces, as a rule-r.

The Old Bull's Head is looming up, we've no time for a snifter

For it's on towards the Beacon we are bound.

If you jog up to the summit then back down to Broombriggs' walk

You must follow all the signs to bring you round.

There's a new fence round an orchard where they've planted sapling trees,

Autumn fruits; like damsons, pears and cherries

So don't try any scrumping, for it just ain't worth the risk 

And the warden of the trees might squeeze your berries.

Returning past the windmill. Many thanks, the tour is ended.

I'm heading for the Curzon, it's down here.

Oh! My wallets in the pocket of the coat I left at home,

So I'm hoping one of you will buy the beer!