The Place That Time Forgot

A Memory of Bothenhampton.

I grew up in Bothenhampton in the sixties and seventies, and my memory of the place is just like the photo from 1910. We lived at Bowhayes, which was a cul-de-sac, and at the end of the lane there were some broken old stone steps that led down into an ancient "hollow way", going down this path was a favourite walk to get to the village centre without having to walk on the main road (Crock Lane) which had no pavement. Going uphill on the same track led to another footpath which, followed to the right, had a bank where wild violets grew; they were my mother's favourite. There was a very steep hill behind our house, which we often tried to walk up, but didn't often succeed - it was very steep and very muddy. The village in the sixties had preserved much of its original character - in the village centre, most houses were of stone with stone roofs, all from the local quarries.There were a couple of quarries in the village, and my father used to go over there at weekends and raid the stone heaps for fossils; I don't think he ever found any really good ones; it was perhaps the wrong kind of stone. There was a pre-school, or play-school, near the Old Trinity Church, in a very large house that I think was the old rectory, or near there, and I recall having a wonderful time there - the staff were very welcoming and friendly. There was a village post office in those days, located on a section of pavement that was high above the roadway - quite a long way up and not much by way of railings. We had two elderly female neighbours - Mrs Bland on one side and Mrs Pearce two doors down; Mrs Pearce used to take me for quite long walks in the area round about - including to the Bridport string factory, which was still working at the time; I was allowed to peep through an open window to see big bobbins of string being wound at fantastic speeds. Of course, we knew everyone in the lane - it was unthinkable in those days not to be on first name terms with everyone in the same road, and I don't think we locked our doors, either; crime was just about unknown. I also remember being taken to see the very last train ever to leave Bridport, before the railway track was pulled up; the station was at the other end of Crock Lane from where our house was. Bothenhampton was always remote, I suppose, being in "deepest, darkest" Dorset, but with the going of the railway it became remoter still. Bothenhampton had a village hall and one year we went down there for a Christmas carol concert; the singing was beautiful, and went on quite late; when we came out of the hall, there had been a hard frost, the air was very clear, and the stars were so bright that night, I have never seen them so bright ever again. The day we moved out of the village, work had started on building a new housing estate which was to overlook our back garden and house, we knew the place would never be the same with all those new houses overlooking the old lane, I think we left at the right time but I will always treasure fond memories of the place.