Slaughter In The Cotswolds

Sunday 5 June 1994. After a weekend in the Cotswolds, we are now on our way home, having decided to take it at a slow pace and stop at places that take our fancy.

This is the two Slaughters, Upper Slaughter on the far side of the river and Lower Slaughter on the side from where the photograph was taken. Whether there actually was some ancient battle and uncountable mayhem on this site is debateable and history hasn't set it down in writing but verbal tradition persists that Mavis at 23 Riverside in Lower Slaughter came over all ferocious when Betty at 42 Foxglove Close in Upper Slaughter borrowed a cup of sugar once without returning the cup.

For days the river banks were lined with furious women dressed in battle pinnies and brandishing egg whisks and toasting forks before a skirmish broke out in the middle of the southernmost bridge.

People whisper that the bridge was held with single-handed determination by Elsie Winterthrop who swung her skillet with wild abandon until a pair of white knee-length knickers were flown from the roof of Mayoress Beatrice Bagthorpe's. Ever since that fateful day, when the river turned colour because Rose Daley had a dolly blue washing stick in the pocket of her pinny when she was knocked into the river by Elsie's skillet, the village kids have re-enacted the battle, every mid-summer, skimming stones at one another up and down the river whilst wearing a saucepan on their heads.

And whilst all of that may well be a load of rubbish (though if you get skilleted, don't say I didn't warn you) it has made this entry a little longer and allowed me to show more photos!

The water mill in Upper Slaughter has a water wheel, gently turning and seemingly perpetually in shadow - I have never been when the sun was shining from a direction to light up the wheel and bring it out of shadow. If you can't make it out in the photo, you'll just have to take my word for it - there is a water wheel there.

So that's filled a short period of time whilst we walked down one path, across a bridge and back along the other side of the river, taking time to go into the mill shop and back swiftly out again when I realised how small it was and I had a camera bag over my shoulder which might have done as much damage as Elsie's skillet...

I did also have a spot of doodling with the pencil!

Return to England's Cotswolds Holiday 1994 Index Page

Woggles

Now if you've been following this blog you'll know all about woggles by now, but if not start by having a look at the entry More from the Ladies over the Water and then have a look at Marlene's blog entry The Story of a Woggle. The sound of intrepid woggle hunting by myself and Marlene way back in 1997 can be heard here. So now that brings all the links together!

And now, children, for the first time in print, on screen or even in thought - the very first Woggle Story:

Wally Woggle Wants to Wet his Whiskers

Wally the woggle lived in a wet patch of grass near the edge of the school playing field. Living in the middle of a playing field was a risky business for a woggle. There were hordes of humans sometimes with studded boots - his Great Uncle Will had gone that way and it hadn't been a pleasant sight! There had also been the time when a woman had slipped on the grass and sat on Aunty Wendy. There hadn't been a lot left of her either. Aunty Wendy that is... So Wally lived close by the hedge where careless feet wouldn't catch him. Not that he was any sort of coward, he was always quick to point out. In his own words, "I'm a woggle who lives close to the edge..."

Wally sighed. The problem was that humans found it hard to see woggles. They could only see them out of the corner of their eyes because being looked at directly makes a woggle so nervous they shiver. At exactly the frequency that human eyes see straight through. So looking directly at a woggle makes them invisible. That's the danger of being a woggle. People step on invisible things...

Wally decided he would nip over to the school and find the saucer of milk that he knew would be left out for the school cat. "Nip" over might not be quite the exact word to use really. Woggles don't move fast. No legs you see. Well... no legs you can't see because the woggle would disappear if you looked at him anyway. If you see what I mean!

Movement for Wally was a sort of rolling awkward movement, stretching out his normally hunched body at the front, then letting the back part slide along to catch up as his back arched again.
"And that," thought Wally, "will be bloody painful once I reach that concrete playground!" Poor Wally...

To be continued...