Creepy Small Villages

Anonymous-50446

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In the 70s, Leeds Utd seemed to be every Scot's favourite English team due to Billy Bremner, Peter Lorimer, Eddie Gray, Frank Gray, David Harvey, Joe Jordan and Gordon McQueen.
Heh. Honestly, I chose Leeds as everyone HAD to support a team and it seemed like a nice non-contentious choice. I've never really liked football...
 

Frasier Buddolph

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On the way to my mom's, there's a turnoff for "Dollville." I've never taken it, but I imagine it's a dilapidated place, little more than a wide spot in the road. In my imagination, I see myself driving slowly down the deserted main street, feeling tiny pairs of glassy eyes following me from behind dusty lace curtains . . .
 

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Wychnor in Staffordshire is inbetween Burton on Trent and Lichfield and is a suitably Fortean type of place as any IMO .. I spent most of my teenage years there, the name translates as 'valley (or 'vale') of the witches' .. originally called Hwickinore, Roman encampments are also recorded, the hamlet was later ruled over by Phillip de Somerville who lived at Wychnor hall and also started the tradition of the gifting of a flitch of bacon to any couple who could not argue for a year and a day.
 

Kate In The Desert

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Wychnor in Staffordshire is inbetween Burton on Trent and Lichfield and is a suitably Fortean type of place as any IMO .. I spent most of my teenage years there, the name translates as 'valley (or 'vale') of the witches' .. originally called Hwickinore, Roman encampments are also recorded, the hamlet was later ruled over by Phillip de Somerville who lived at Wychnor hall and also started the tradition of the gifting of a flitch of bacon to any couple who could not argue for a year and a day.
Sounds like an interesting place! And I want to thank you for giving me the occasion to look up the meaning of the word "flitch", a word I never came across before.

As to the couple winning the bacon, somehow I can't help but imagine that it was that very last day that was the most difficult once they'd already made it through the whole year!
 

Swifty

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Sounds like an interesting place! And I want to thank you for giving me the occasion to look up the meaning of the word "flitch", a word I never came across before.

As to the couple winning the bacon, somehow I can't help but imagine that it was that very last day that was the most difficult once they'd already made it through the whole year!
Apparently these couples had to have neighbours willing to back up that they hadn't been shouting at each other! ..
 

Naughty_Felid

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Wychnor in Staffordshire is inbetween Burton on Trent and Lichfield and is a suitably Fortean type of place as any IMO .. I spent most of my teenage years there, the name translates as 'valley (or 'vale') of the witches' .. originally called Hwickinore, Roman encampments are also recorded, the hamlet was later ruled over by Phillip de Somerville who lived at Wychnor hall and also started the tradition of the gifting of a flitch of bacon to any couple who could not argue for a year and a day.

Yes but as recent research shows arguing is good for a relationship. https://www.bustle.com/p/7-ways-arguing-benefits-your-relationship-according-to-experts-8268192

It makes me sick that some toff should be a) sticking their nose into something that doesn't concern them and b) is undermining a sacred institution built on fighting and warfare.

And you can pick up a flitch of ham for 55p at Aldi these days anyhow so what's the point?



I just asked my wife if she agreed with me and she told me to "f*ck off,etc..."
 

Mythopoeika

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On the way to my mom's, there's a turnoff for "Dollville." I've never taken it, but I imagine it's a dilapidated place, little more than a wide spot in the road. In my imagination, I see myself driving slowly down the deserted main street, feeling tiny pairs of glassy eyes following me from behind dusty lace curtains . . .
There's no Street View of Dollville, sadly.
 

humanoidlord

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Yes, I think that other suggestion is probably correct. It was a long time ago so my memory is not perfect, but that looks very much as though it's the place. As I said, precise locations in that area are a bit jumbled, so google maps may not be correct in saying where everything is to the nearest half-mile. But that row of cottages looks about right.

Anyway, I promised you an odd tale concerning that standing-stone, so here it is. Incidentally, you can find that location very easily indeed because it's clearly visible from the main road if you look to your left just before you you drive into Lauder (or your right if you're going North). The whole place is sheep country, and for commercial reasons, nearly all of those sheep are female. If you ramble around the countryside, you very seldom see a ram. So one day in the Spring c. 1989 (same time-frame as previous tale), I was walking up that hill, just because it's a nice gentle hill to walk up, and you get a good view. As I approached the top, I heard a peculiar noise. It sounded like somebody banging in fence-posts with a sledge-hammer, but it was curiously irregular. I assumed that a farmer was doing that very thing, but irregularly because he was tired. What it in fact turned out to be was every ram for many miles around - dozens of them. They had all toiled up that hill and formed a circle around that incredibly phallic stone to do their head-butting thing! The only ewes present were the usual number I'd expect to see there randomly, and they looked distinctly unimpressed.

It was an amazing sight which I didn't appreciate for long because the rams were so into it that I was afraid they'd have a go at me just because I was there. And in those days, we didn't all have phones that took pictures, so I can't prove it - I was hoping that somebody else might have witnessed this same implausible sight at that location. But it really did happen, and possibly it happens every Spring, though I'm afraid I can't give you a precise date. The fact that the standing stone is not particularly old just adds to the mystery - it seems that sheep, despite being famously stupid, are going with pure Freudian symbolism! There's another even more peculiar tale told about that immediate area, but I cannot personally vouch for it. But the ram thing around the monolith? I saw it. I don't live there any more, but if somebody does, they could very likely get video of this round about March. Honestly, male sheep climb up that particular hill with a phallic symbol on top to do something incredibly macho! I'm not making this up! I would be absolutely delighted if somebody who lives in the area could prove it!

This is of course not strictly supernatural, but it does strike me as distinctly Fortean. Maybe there is some biological reason why rams climb a hill every year, and the monolith is coincidental. Or maybe they coincidentally climbed that hill that one particular year because they're too stupid not to. But I think there's a very good chance I've just given you a location where something seriously odd occurs every year! I ask nothing apart from a name-check if anybody actually films this. Plus official confirmation that the Scottish Borders are downright odd.
they are clearly being attracted by the misterious "ley fields", a strange form of energy that exists everywhere in earth and is likely of tectonic origin
the stone was placed there to mark the ley node
 

Peripart

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Wychnor in Staffordshire is inbetween Burton on Trent and Lichfield and is a suitably Fortean type of place as any IMO .. I spent most of my teenage years there, the name translates as 'valley (or 'vale') of the witches' .. originally called Hwickinore, Roman encampments are also recorded, the hamlet was later ruled over by Phillip de Somerville who lived at Wychnor hall and also started the tradition of the gifting of a flitch of bacon to any couple who could not argue for a year and a day.
Close enough to me, but I've never been. Seen the signs on the A38, but never turned off. Mind you, I think the road is a dead end - you can't go through Wychnor to anywhere else, I believe.

Next time I'm in the Alrewas area, I might take a quick diversion, just so I can say I've been!
 

Swifty

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Close enough to me, but I've never been. Seen the signs on the A38, but never turned off. Mind you, I think the road is a dead end - you can't go through Wychnor to anywhere else, I believe.

Next time I'm in the Alrewas area, I might take a quick diversion, just so I can say I've been!
As I understand it, Wychnor isn't as easy to get through by car as it was in the 80's .. and the hard left to get off the fast moving A38 and away from the fast moving traffic over the tiny bridge was dangerous enough back then .. you can't even get a virtual tour from Google Earth any more although the earlier drivers had the guts. My sister lives in Alrewas with her family now.

If, in theory alone these days, you were able to drive through Wychnor, you'd be taking a right after what was then and still might be the Moore Family farm which would take you to Barton Under Needwood.
 

Spudrick68

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Twenty years ago and more a few of us used to watch PNE away. On the outskirts of where we were playing we would stop in a village nad have some dinner and a couple of pints before heading for the ground.

I recall heading for Mansfield one time and pulling into what I assumed was an old mining village where no one had a job anymore. We didn't even get out of the car, just reversed and moved on. We all felt really uncomfortable, and could sense eyes peering at us through net curtains like something out of Lovecraft novel.

Unfortunatley I never took a note of what the place was called.
 

Krepostnoi

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Twenty years ago and more a few of us used to watch PNE away. On the outskirts of where we were playing we would stop in a village nad have some dinner and a couple of pints before heading for the ground.

I recall heading for Mansfield one time and pulling into what I assumed was an old mining village where no one had a job anymore. We didn't even get out of the car, just reversed and moved on. We all felt really uncomfortable, and could sense eyes peering at us through net curtains like something out of Lovecraft novel.

Unfortunatley I never took a note of what the place was called.
Around that time I had a job doing multi-drop deliveries in Nottingham and the surrounding areas (plus one regular client in Cardiff, inexplicably). I also recall the forlorn, forsaken atmosphere of the villages of North Nottinghamshire.

But the place that springs to my mind when reading this thread is Tow Law. I drove through on a sunny day in the early 90s, but the place felt lowering and oppressive - again, like unseen eyes were watching, and judging. I was driving a Fiat Panda 750, and we thrashed that poor vehicle through that village, desperate to get clear.
 

caspergriswoldbacon

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Not really a small village but earlier this year i found myself stranded in Merthyr tydfill midweek. Well i wasn't happy about it, but Merthyr's not a tiny place is it? Can't be that bad i thought. My company found me a place to stay at short notice and i followed on foot directions to the post code of said establishment by phone on google maps. i ended up on the side of a hill and was walking on a footpath across a field when i spotted a horse galloping in my direction. Well not in my direction, but directly at me looking really pissed off. I made a run for it, scrambled over a fence and down a ditch the other side to be greeted by an elderly couple and their grandchildren. i warned them about the horse but they looked at me like i was mad and preceeded to enter the horse's field where it ignored them. I finally found my way to my hotel which was a pub but closed permanetly as far as beer, or any other kind of amenity apart from a bed was concerned. The whole high street in fact was closed with not a soul around. It was pitch dark downstairs in the pub on account of having no unboarded-up windows and i never saw any evidence that i wasn't the only person there apart from the owner despite it being July during the hottest summer for donkey's years. I managed to find a chippy for something to eat and was told there was a pub down the road that opened 2 days a week or when they could be bothered but not that day, and was directed to a local bowls club for a beer - I really needed a beer and wherever i was in Merthyr...well this wasn't the night life part of the town. The locals were friendly enough at the bowls club while they played poker and i sat nursing a beer and staring at the fake artificial grass lining the floor of the beer garden (Seriously it was like sitting in the window display of a garden centre), but the whole desolation of the place was getting to me so i decided to head back and go to bed early. The one shop open on the entire street was your typical indian owned newsagent and i popped in for a phone charger as i'd left mine at home and my phone wasn't gonna last overnight otherwise. I took it to the till and the while he rung it up, his young daughter (i presume) said loudly to him. "Why are you serving this Man? He doesn't live round here" The newsagent told her to shut up but still.... i was half expecting her to say "this is a local shop for local people"........ Woke up early determined to leave the welsh Royston Vasey asap and looked out my window. Untethered horses walking around in the backyard.. in fact horses everywhere as far as i could see like an equine version of The Birds. So in conclusion, Merthyr - lovely countryside , very odd.
 

Mrs Migs

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Not really a small village but earlier this year i found myself stranded in Merthyr tydfill midweek. Well i wasn't happy about it, but Merthyr's not a tiny place is it? Can't be that bad i thought. My company found me a place to stay at short notice and i followed on foot directions to the post code of said establishment by phone on google maps. i ended up on the side of a hill and was walking on a footpath across a field when i spotted a horse galloping in my direction. Well not in my direction, but directly at me looking really pissed off. I made a run for it, scrambled over a fence and down a ditch the other side to be greeted by an elderly couple and their grandchildren. i warned them about the horse but they looked at me like i was mad and preceeded to enter the horse's field where it ignored them. I finally found my way to my hotel which was a pub but closed permanetly as far as beer, or any other kind of amenity apart from a bed was concerned. The whole high street in fact was closed with not a soul around. It was pitch dark downstairs in the pub on account of having no unboarded-up windows and i never saw any evidence that i wasn't the only person there apart from the owner despite it being July during the hottest summer for donkey's years. I managed to find a chippy for something to eat and was told there was a pub down the road that opened 2 days a week or when they could be bothered but not that day, and was directed to a local bowls club for a beer - I really needed a beer and wherever i was in Merthyr...well this wasn't the night life part of the town. The locals were friendly enough at the bowls club while they played poker and i sat nursing a beer and staring at the fake artificial grass lining the floor of the beer garden (Seriously it was like sitting in the window display of a garden centre), but the whole desolation of the place was getting to me so i decided to head back and go to bed early. The one shop open on the entire street was your typical indian owned newsagent and i popped in for a phone charger as i'd left mine at home and my phone wasn't gonna last overnight otherwise. I took it to the till and the while he rung it up, his young daughter (i presume) said loudly to him. "Why are you serving this Man? He doesn't live round here" The newsagent told her to shut up but still.... i was half expecting her to say "this is a local shop for local people"........ Woke up early determined to leave the welsh Royston Vasey asap and looked out my window. Untethered horses walking around in the backyard.. in fact horses everywhere as far as i could see like an equine version of The Birds. So in conclusion, Merthyr - lovely countryside , very odd.
Oh dear! No idea which bit of Merthyr you were in, and yes, as a local I will admit that it’s a bit hairy in parts, but there are some halfway decent bits on the outskirts! If you should ever end up stuck there again give me a shout and I’ll point you in the direction of the better areas.
(Actually, I have my suspicions about where you were, but can’t place the pub.... any place names you can recall?)
 

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I'm chuckling to myself as I decided to Google Tow Law, which apparently is also a village in Durham. It is on Trip Advisor "10 best things to do in To Law". :)
 
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I'm chuckling to myself as I decided to Google Tow Law
Tow Law was used as a filming location for Michael Palin's Ripping Yarns, the episode The Testing of Eric Olthwaite*.

I read somewhere that Palin's memories of the place and people weren't the fondest. I've driven through it plenty of times but never stopped.




*along with Beamish Museum, Sacriston and High Force waterfall.
 

Kryptonite

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I'm chuckling to myself as I decided to Google Tow Law, which apparently is also a village in Durham. It is on Trip Advisor "10 best things to do in To Law". :)
Tow Law had (and maybe still have) a football team called Tow Law Town that I think Chris Waddle played for as a youth. ..
 

Mythopoeika

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Tow Law is an odd name for a place.
 

Kryptonite

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Tow Law is an odd name for a place.
Law is an old fashioned word for a hill in some parts of Scotland, I'd guess Tow Law has a similar meaning, being not too far from Scotland.
 

Bigphoot2

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I some parts Law is an old word for hill. In Dundee, there is part of an extinct volcano - properly called Dundee Law but called by many The Law Hill.
 

Scribbles

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Interesting I love Avebury and the surrounding area, have watched the rising of the sun at the summer solstice. Walked there along the avenue. But It wasn't far from there that I saw my one-and-only 'ghost' or timeslip - I've mentioned it somewhere here already. West Kennet long barrow is amazing and Silbury hill totally puzzling.

I think the rising of the sun glorifies my God as well - after all, He made it.
Well this is interesting. I was going to reply to Mrs Miggs' post about finding Avebury unfriendly, and mention that when I put a hand on one of the Avebury stones I felt very distinctly a sense of being told to "fck off"!

Then I read your post, Cochise, and just as I read your words "rising of the sun" an advert on the TV for Wren bathrooms was playing the Bee Gees song "how deep is your love", and the lyrics "rise of the morning sun" played over the words!
 

Scribbles

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Ah, a proper gamekeeper’s gibbet.

maximus otter
A friend of mine was on a weekend break in Devon a couple of years ago, and saw a sight like this. She asked someone about it (forget who or where) and was told the gamekeeper did it to show the landowner he was doing his job. I can't find it anything else but creepy and horrible.
 

Cochise

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Wychnor in Staffordshire is inbetween Burton on Trent and Lichfield and is a suitably Fortean type of place as any IMO .. I spent most of my teenage years there, the name translates as 'valley (or 'vale') of the witches' .. originally called Hwickinore, Roman encampments are also recorded, the hamlet was later ruled over by Phillip de Somerville who lived at Wychnor hall and also started the tradition of the gifting of a flitch of bacon to any couple who could not argue for a year and a day.
I thought that tradition came from Dunmow (The Dunmow Flitch)

https://www.dunmowflitchtrials.co.uk
 

Kate In The Desert

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I thought that tradition came from Dunmow (The Dunmow Flitch)

https://www.dunmowflitchtrials.co.uk
Because I was not familiar with the word 'flitch', I looked it up on WikiPedia and found this:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flitch_of_bacon_custom

where the article mentions both sources of the custom, Wychnoure and Dunmow, both going way back in history. Because the custom occurred elsewhere in Europe, there's a theory that it's related to the Norse Yule feast, with boar meat being eaten in honor of the god Freyr. It's intriguing to me how old the custom is.
 

Bad Bungle

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Well this is interesting. I was going to reply to Mrs Miggs' post about finding Avebury unfriendly, and mention that when I put a hand on one of the Avebury stones I felt very distinctly a sense of being told to "fck off"!

Then I read your post, Cochise, and just as I read your words "rising of the sun" an advert on the TV for Wren bathrooms was playing the Bee Gees song "how deep is your love", and the lyrics "rise of the morning sun" played over the words!
Mind if I make a comment ? I 've just drunk a bottle of IKEA cough syrup and everything is coming up synchronous. I've planned a trip to Avebury for Thursday, not having visited since I was a teenager and my mate was being 'asked' to move on from outside the Pub by the local Constabulary (he said he was waiting for the bus, they said it wasn't a Bus Stop, he said it was where the bus stopped (correct, but the stones weren't the only ones in a mood ).
Walking through St Mary's Churchyard near Thame last year I spotted the words "How deep is your love" on the back of a large ornate tombstone. 'About 6 feet' I thought unkindly, I mean, what chav commissions such a large monolith and carves a Bee Gees' lyric on it ? ('Stayin' Alive - Not !' ) Saw on the front it was Robin Gibb. Ah, sorry mate.
 

Naughty_Felid

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Twenty years ago and more a few of us used to watch PNE away. On the outskirts of where we were playing we would stop in a village nad have some dinner and a couple of pints before heading for the ground.

I recall heading for Mansfield one time and pulling into what I assumed was an old mining village where no one had a job anymore. We didn't even get out of the car, just reversed and moved on. We all felt really uncomfortable, and could sense eyes peering at us through net curtains like something out of Lovecraft novel.

Unfortunatley I never took a note of what the place was called.
Innsmouth?
 
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