Photos from the Creeton Walk 27 October 2002

Pictures by Simon Bradford, random jottings and lack of knowledge about the area by Tony

Approaching this walk I drove through rain.  After the walk I drove back home through rain.  But on the walk, rain was there none, thus revealing once more the absolute power of Rambling in keeping us dry.

We met as an ensemble, in the lay-by at the southern end of the village of Creeton in sight of the Grade I listed Anglican parish church, at which site apparently the arches of a former Norman aisle were discovered.

There is a chained 1611 bible in the church and examples of Saxon grave crosses in the churchyard which we did not examine.

Creeton and it is now a hamlet of around 20 houses.  The nearest school is in Little Bytham 1.5 miles away, and the nearest pub in Swinstead 1.5 miles away.

But as the first picture shows, nearby there is what us regular walkers know as a “big house” of which there are quite a few dotted around the countryside.   The details of the big house are unknown to your correspondent, but I await upon enlightenment.

However, there is plenty of activity to be had by those of us who walk, most notably the climbing of stiles – a particular fascination in these parts apparently, given the number of stiles hereabouts.

There was also a notice that Simon kindly took a picture of but which I can’t quite make out.  If you can give some details of what the sign says, please do write in and say.

It is indeed possible that this notice was written in an ancient tongue the details of which have now been lost because of the deep isolation of the hamlet, (which incidentally should not be confused with Creaton.

Creaton is in Northamptonshire and a completely different place altogether.)

However habitation does indeed remain.

But although invitation cards and membership packs were handed out, the locals showed no significant interest in what we were doing, nor even in partaking of the Christmas gathering.

And yet these selfsame locals clearly showed a fine sense of contemplation and an unwillingness to be disturbed, which I think is admirable in these days of hurly-burly, hustle and bustle, to and fro, and hither and yon.  If you get my drift.

Indeed for much of the journey it felt that we were very much alone, trekking across land that had not seen human boot for many a century.  Although as my colleagues who are more adjusted to the countryside than I (a city dweller by birth) pointed out, the land doesn’t naturally look as we saw it, and roads and paths do not grow naturally.

One can only say one learns something new every day.

As for the local inhabitants, they did indeed keep themselves to themselves, but eventually, we caught sight of one of the natives standing guard over the land.  He or she remained peaceful and calm but we were warned that the sentry might not speak our tongue and so we should not approach, and indeed we did not.