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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required A restless night, another hum-drum day, Resolve to take a pleasurable walk; I make my way towards St Mary’s church. Across the street, a sixteenth century home – Maltravers Manor, testament to time. I’m heading for the ancient Hollow Way Where towering beeches shade the wagon route. “The Hatchet” standing at the crossroads, empty ! Bereft ! No pints are pulled here any more. Along the High Street, past the Corner Cottage Perambulating slowly now I pass Refurbished “Childrey Stores” and Chapel House, The Primitive Methodists’ former home. And next, the Childrey pond comes into view -- It’s guarded by a dozen angry geese And to the right the Old Post Office stands – No stamps or letters, now a family home. Beside the bus-stop here’s the “village” hall In red brick builded by Victorian hands : The Working Mens Club And Reading Room Where farming labourers were wont to meet. Next a modern non-conformist chapel On the site of earlier Methodist Hall. Then looking West a high brick wall contains A cedar, vintage, sixteen forty six, As high above a noisy rookery sways. We now fork right by Rampanes Manor House. Set in the wall, a dedication plaque Records the founding of the Old Schoolroom, Of seventeen thirty two, for local boys, Established by the knight George Fettiplace. Along Church Row we pass Cantorist House, Originally the Chantry House for priest, Three almsmen, to assist in singing mass For the soul of Sir Edmund of Childrey. Enter St Mary’s by the southern door, Then down the aisle, I’m heading for the chancel Where ancient brass recalls five hundred years Of folk who lived and died in Cilla’s Rill. I’ll leave as campanologists arrive To ring the changes loud across the land. Through the serried ranks of slate and marble, I weave a path towards a wooden bench, And here I’ll rest, below the old Scots pine, To watch the setting sun across the fields.
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