Nobody walks from Haddenham to Thame. That, at least, is the opinion of the planners, who have failed to provide a footpath alongside the road. Even the grass verge is sometimes unwalkable. Luckily motorists were courteous, and after a few minutes I was able to turn off the road and take to the fields.
I walked the full length of the old part of the village, along the High Street. For once, the parked vehicles failed to overwhelm the attractive old buildings which line the street, newer infills tending towards pastiche or politeness rather than contrast. It was a pleasant stroll. Long Crendon is a very old village, with the architecture to prove it. It comes as no surprise that it often provides the backdrop to episodes of Midsomer Murders, with local people completing the scene as extras.
Apart from this starring role, the parish is possibly best known for including, just outside the village, Notley Abbey. When it was supressed in 1538, the abbey was allowed to fall into ruin and quarried for its stone. The exception was the abbot's lodging which had survived as a farmhouse before being converted in the last century into a country mansion. The most famous residents of the house which took the former abbey's name were Laurence Olivier and his then wife, Vivien Leigh.
Between 1944 and 1958, their weekend parties were attended by everyone who was anyone in showbiz, often shadowed by a posse of press photographers. "Of all the houses I've lived in over the years, Notley is my favourite. It was absolutely enchanting, and it enchanted me. At Notley I had an affair with the past. For me it had mesmeric power; I could easily drown in its atmosphere. I could not leave it alone, I was a child lost in its history. Perhaps I loved it too much, if that is possible," mused the great man. And today, all the glamour of Notley can be “exclusively yours for 24 hours”, if you rent the place from Bijou Weddings for your big do.
Leaving all the stardust behind me, I walked roughly Southwest along a quiet lane, leaving it to join a footpath across fields. A Red Kite flew low to my left. The bright but cold day provide few thermal updrafts; the bird had to work hard to keep aloft.
I saw little of Shabbington, crossing the road from a footpath straight into the churchyard to find another footpath. The church apparently dates from the 11th Century, and is a handsome affair.
More fields led to the village of Waterstock. This is not as “olde worlde” as Long Crendon, but has an agreeable main street (actually its only street!) with some good buildings.
Turning right (Northwest) near the mill, I followed an enclosed, unmetalled but decently-surfaced estate road past Waterperry House. The house, which can be glimpsed several times from the public footpath (and closer if you trespass a few yards along the drive) was rebuilt in the Queen Anne style by Sir John Curson in 1713. After being owned by the Henley family for nearly a century, it was sold to Magdalen College in 1925.
Seven years later Waterperry Horticultural School was opened by Beatrix Havergal, the principal, as a residential horticultural college for women. Miss Havergal was known as the ‘Strawberry Queen’ at Chelsea Flower Show, where for many years she won the gold medal prize for her exhibit of Royal Sovereign strawberries. She retired in 1971. The house was then taken over by the Fellowship of the School of Economic Science. It is now run as a horticultural and garden centre. The school organises the annual ‘Art in Action’ festival in July, where craftsmen and women from all over the world exhibit their skills.
The ghost of Waterperry is the Grey Lady, who walks the footpath from Holton to Waterperry House. A number of people living in both villages have encountered her while walking the footpath in the last 20 years. She was away when I passed. Some of the above comes from "The New Oxfordshire Village Book" written by the local village WIs and compiled by the Oxfordshire Federation of Women's Institutes.
After gingerly negotiating a muddy farmyard, I turned West towards the already-audible M40, a couple of fields away. After crossing the motorway (on a bridge), I took to fields again, sitting on a convenient stile to eat my lunch. That's a safer bet in Winter; in Summer, as soon as you sit on a stile, several people appear, wanting to cross it.
Reaching a road again, I walked beneath the A40 into Wheatley. Little of Wheatley's ancient orgin is apparent from the road I took through the village. It looks, as it is, a dormitory for Oxford. One of Wheatley's main industries used to be quarrying limestone which was used for building Windsor Castle, Merton College, local cottages and ecclesiastical buildings, most of which were erected between the 13th and 18th centuries.
But for all its unprepossessing appearance today, I was now walking along the old road from London to Oxford. Beyond Wheatley, the old road (called, helpfully, Old Road) narrows and climbs up on to Shotover Hill.
By the time I reached this area, on the summit of the hill, the narrow road had become an unsurfaced, potholed track. The council has not bothered to put gates up to discourage motorists: the holes do a good job. Only the ranger's truck (which I passed, wobbling its way along) and car thieves would bother with it. Two burnt-out cars testified to the latter activity. “Police aware” said a notice on one of them, so that's all right.
Although it is a terrible driving surface, the track was great to walk on. The soil here is sandy, so it was like walking on newly-uncovered, firm sand at the seaside. Very nice walking. I spotted another Red Kite, patrolling a neighbouring field. A man and a woman passed me, accompanied by a little girl and a dog. The adults were teetering round the puddles, while the girl and the dog splashed happily through them. Much of the the bright day had disappeared under a pall of cloud; snow fell for about two seconds.
At its Western end, the track became a narrow road again, then entered the suburb of New Headington, a place devoid of interest. After walking past one big hospital on the right, I passed another one on the left, still following the old route into Oxford from London. South Park provided a welcome break from tedious suburban roads.
I was in good time for my walk to the station for the trip back to London. So that completed the Cambridge to Oxford “core” of this East-West walk. Next time, the Cotswolds.
