WALKS WITH NELLIE ~ TISSINGTON ~ BY SALLY MOSLEY

The picturesque village of Tissington lies embedded into a historic landscape fashioned and farmed by man going back centuries and beyond. A surrounding gridwork of drystone walls enclose rich pasture with evidence of medieval ridge and furrow field systems. The village itself is a time warp of quintessential Englishness that melts my heart with its prettiness and character.

And so it was that Nellie and I headed off from Tissington station car park for a wander along the trail and down memory lane. The former old station had opened in 1899 when three trains a day ran through here from Buxton to Ashbourne. The service ended in 1954 for passengers and the line closed totally in 1963.

Soon I was able to admire far reaching views over the Vale of Parwich, but I had red spots before my eyes from the profusion of berries on hawthorn trees alongside. However, I could just make out the tower of Bradbourne Church in the distance. In the late 18th century Nat Gould fell in love with this countryside when he helped out on his uncle’s farm as a child. He later went to live in Australia and became famous as a horse racing tipster and writer of short stories and novels, writing 130 in all with 25 million copies sold. Nat came back to England in 1895 to walk the hills and dales of his beloved Derbyshire before he died, declaring “I have travelled in many lands but have never seen a more beautiful place. When my brain and body require rest, I flee to these dear old hills of home”. He lies buried beneath a simple cross near the gates of Bradbourne Church.

Ignoring paths heading off from either side, Nellie and I continued for just over a mile before crossing a wall stile on my left to follow a fingerpost sign for Tissington. The path led us through a succession of fields and pathways with lots of signage for electric fencing.

We emerged at the top end of the village where Rakes Lane meets The Street and began a wander down past a very tastefully built house which I think must be the first new build in the village for about a hundred years.

On the right at the junction is Tissington Craft Corner in what was originally the joinery shop that made everything wooden that was necessary for the village, including coffins. Carts were made upstairs. Their wheels were turned downstairs and then wheeled down the village to the blacksmiths for a metal band to be fitted around them. They were then brought back up the village. The finished cart was lowered down through a trapdoor and fitted onto the framework.

Continuing downhill it was not long before we came to the ‘Big House’ that dominates this little rural community. It is the home of Sir Richard FitzHerbert, 9th Baronet, and his family. Sir Richard inherited the estate and Hall in 1989.

Whilst looking through my Derbyshire books I found a reference to the Right Hon Sir Alleyne FitzHerbert who was lord of the bed-chamber to George III, George IV & William IV. He died in 1839. In Kelly’s Directory of 1912 it lists the occupant of the hall as being Sir Hugo Meynell FitzHerbert, the vicar as the Rev. James FitzHerbert and among the residents of the village was William Partridge, gamekeeper.

Water was gushing out from the huge rainwater tank in Hall Well opposite. In the field behind are the earthworks of a Norman Castle which was probably only of wooden construction, whilst standing proudly on a rise to the side is St Mary’s Church.

In the 1360’s, during the reign of Edward III, archery was encouraged as a result of Black Death having seriously depleted the number of skilled bowmen. Every Englishman was ordered to own a bow of his own height, kept ready for use, and to provide one for each of his son’s. All boys were encouraged to practise archery on Sunday afternoons which is why pillars in the church porch have medieval arrow sharpening marks.

In the graveyard is a stone to James Allsop who ‘drownded’ on the Titanic.

Ducks were noisily quacking on the famous pond as Nellie and I headed back toward the car park.

Sally Mosley

FOOTNOTE BY NELLIE: I’ve become a little starstruck just recently, or you could even say star stuck! When it’s freezing cold and frosty I tell Dad that I need a wee in the middle of the night. It’s no use telling mum because she just keeps on snoring. Dad puts on his thick coat and takes me outside and I have a few sniffs and then I stand and look up to the skies at lots of little shining lights. I’m mesmerised and could stay there for ages if it wasn’t for Dad dragging me back inside because he’s turning blue with cold. Twinkle, twinkle. Love Nellie xxx