The confluence of the Rivers Brit and Asker - 13th September

"I didn't know this place was here," Jane said after we'd examined the damage done to her windscreen en route (a 6" crack across the driver's side). "Me neither,"I confessed. It was the Bridport Rest Area, west of the town near Eype. I'd zoomed in on Google maps and spied in when I was looking for potential parking places for today's walk. It was useful in that it was free, obviously near where we were going to set off from and there were toilets.

Today's destination had been hurriedly chosen after I'd decided I did not want another 'boring' walk through fields. I had no idea what today's walk would turn out like, although I knew the last two miles or so would be through the town. I was to be pleasantly surprised.

It took us a while to find our way out of the rest area and to get our bearings when we did. Our first signpost did not help as we did not want either Eype. I love the way Dorset signposts all have names though - this one was Cockcrowing. I wonder where that originates from.

Signs to Eype at Cockcrowing - SY4592

We walked east along Broad Lane before turning north just before Watton Cross. A wonderful vista opened up before us. Colmer's Hill, that iconic Dorset prominence revealed a different view with Vearse Farm in the foreground.

Vearse Farm and Colmer's Hill - SY4592

We managed to cut a minuscule amount off our walk by walking between two footpaths just before Vearse Farm. This avoided walking out into the middle of the field and back at a slightly different angle. Here we met a lady dog walker who asked us where we were heading - my dreaded question. There's always an expected reply and I never know what to say because if I were to say 'Mangerton Mill' or 'Waytown' I'm not sure anyone would be able to direct us. So it means swiping your phone map across to find the nearest place which you think someone will know how to direct you to. It works without fail. You end up getting a barrage of words which you don't really have to listen to because you can see exactly where you have to go, but it leaves your fellow walker with a glowing sense of achievement because they think they have genuinely helped a stranger in distress.

We followed the straight footpath to the B3162, crossed the road and skirted Allington Hill Nature Reserve. Last time I visited the reserve it was November, so I'd allowed nearly a full year to pass and was only just making my visit in a different season than the first.

Allington Hill - SY4593

It's a lovely footpath through the woodlands here. We ignored the turning north I had taken last November past the hospital and continued on to the B3162 again.

Oddfellows Arms, North Allington - SY4693

This was the Dottery Road and reminded us of our last walk together to the last Tin Tabernacle. "We're not going as far as that this time," I confirmed, which I felt was a shame as it would have been nice to see how far they had got in their renovation works.

We followed the road north before turning off towards Washingpool Farm, eyeing up the cattle at a safe distance in the neighbouring field.

Cows near Washingpool Farm - SY4694

We were feeling quite pleased with ourselves as so far all the rights of way had turned out alright, albeit a little nettly. I'd sucked in breathe when I saw Jane wearing shorts that morning. "You're asking for trouble," I remarked. "There's bound to be lots of nettles." Naturally, we weren't disappointed and even I got lots of stings through my trousers so I hate to think what her legs were like at the end of the walk.

An amusing sign caught our eye as we approached Middle Pymore Farm.

Please do not empty your dog - SY4694

Fortunately we did not have a dog to empty so we continued merrily on to Middle Pymore Farm.

Middle Pymore Farm - SY4694

The sound of an engine made us look overhead where a light blue aircraft was tottering about the sky. We soon discovered the reason why. There was a flying field for model aircraft. There were even several benches for spectators.

Flying field near Middle Pymore Farm - SY4694

We resisted the temptation to sit  and relax and watch the aircraft zooming by, though the view from there was quite spectacular.

View north-east form Middle Pymore Farm- SY4694

There followed quite a long walk down the road towards Wooth, the best part of which was a finger post sign at Ebenezer Corner. I'd love to know how it got that name!

Near Lower Ash Farm - SY4695

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Ebenezer Corner - SY4795

We could, at this point, have turned south and cut several miles off our walk - but there's no fun in that, so we just reached the 30 mph signs at Bradpole (a new gridsquare) and then  headed further north.

Bridge and entrance to Bradpole - SY4794

We were now following the River Brit northwards along a footpath lined with Himalayan Balsam. Despite the fact we were walking through field after field, the interest of the ever-flowing river was there, drawing our attention and that continued to be the case for the rest of the walk.

Himalayan Balsam near Wooth - SY4795

I can't remember at which points Jane got stung badly with nettles, but there were several paths which were really bad. It seems from the photos that  it was always OK.

Near Bingham Farm we went very slightly wrong. By then I was beginning to think about lunch - it's always me who thinks about it first! We went through a gate and I spied a bench situated a little way off the path. "Do you think we could sit on that for lunch?" I asked Jane hopefully, knowing the answer only too well. Jane has an aversion to trespassing which is so strong that she doesn't like being even a little bit off the path and often squirms when I take photographs of farms and houses. "But they're in the gridsquare!" I object "And if their owners didn't want anyone to photograph them, why do they make them so attractive. It's a compliment." Of course, it sometimes is quite the opposite. I take a photograph because the house in question or land surrounding it is such a tip. back to the gate, upon close examination of my phone map, I discovered that we weren't supposed to go through that gate at all; that was part of Bingham Farm Caravan Site and the bench for the benefit of caravaners and campers. So we retraced our steps to the correct footpath where we ate lunch sitting on a small footbridge across the River Brit.

Gate near Bingham Farm - SY4796

River Brit near Bingham Farm - SY4796

Now on the west side of the River, we followed its course north to Waytown through fields.

River Brit near Waytown - SY4797

I was loving being near the river; it's something about the energy and life flowing in and through it which energises, inspires and revitalises tired limbs. I'm never bored when walking by a river or the sea; it's hardly possible; there's always something to see, some movement which draws the eye or some sound which catches the ear - a Kingfisher flashing by or the peep, peep of a wagtail or Common Sandpiper bobbing its tail.

We emerged on the road at Oxbridge (nothing to do with the famous universities) and I recalled a walk I'd done with Paul where we'd ended up at exactly the same place. "But we won't be going the same way now," I reassured both myself and Jane. "We're going south, not east to Melplash."

We walked past a letterbox which I guess must be in the running for the most seldom used letter box in Britain, then joined a bridleway past Woodcombe Farm to The Mount, though what exactly The Mount was, I'm not entirely sure.

Letterbox at Oxbridge - SY4797

Bridleway at The Mount - SY4897

It took some courage and patience to cross the A35 at the triangle at The Mount and then we joined another bridleway which skirted Mangerton Hill. There were some attractive trees and horses in this gridsquare.

Mangerton Hill - SY4896

Horses at Mangerton Farm- SY4896

One of the horses was literally running round in circles and we could see no reason why until we saw a woman standing at the gate also watching it. "Oh, it's seen you," said Jane to the woman, "That's why it's running round in circles." "No," corrected the woman, "we've just taken the horsebox away. It was running through the horsebox having a great time and now it wonders where it's gone." I can't remember if she said why they took, the horsebox away if the horse was enjoying it so much. I was too busy wondering if Mangerton Mill cafe would be open.

"Shall we call in to see if the cafe's open?" I asked Jane, trying to sound nonchalant as we approached the entrance. "Might as well," Jane acquiesced. She must have read my eagerness, subtle though it was.

Mangerton Mill - SY4895

The cafe was not open, which was a disappointment, but, as we didn't make it back to the cars before 5 pm anyway, it's probably just as well we were not delayed further by tea and cake!

We'd now joined the Mangerton River, our second river of the day, which we followed into Bradpole. This is a tributary of the River Asker. If we thought we were approaching our journey's end when we arrived in Bradpole, we were very much mistaken. I could see we had over two long miles to walk through the suburbs of Bridport and didn't feel I could do it without further sustenance. The thought of tea and cake at Mangerton Mill had been keeping me going and now I was going to have to make do with the dregs of my flask. We were just about to sit atop a slope on the outskirts of Bridport when I thought, "why not continue to the church? There's bound to be a bench there."

This we did, admiring some of the lovely cottages in Bradpole as we went and trying to work out which way both of us had driven through the village in the past en route to different places.

Village Road, Bradpole - SY4894

The Old Vicarage, Bradpole - SY4894

Holy Trinity Church, Bradpole - SY4894

The electric blue on the spire is a bit shocking, but otherwise everything about the church was as one would expect and I bought a book on walks in the area as my memento. I like to buy a postcard or card or church leaflet when I visit a church.

We followed our noses through the streets of Bradpole to the River Asker and walked along the river with the dog walkers for a while. I got very excited when I caught a fleeting glimpse of the bright blue of a Kingfisher.

River Asker near Bridport - SY4793

I was nearly as excited to spy the brick bridge which we were going to cross to the east side of the river. It's visible in the picture above, but more so in this picture.

Brick footbridge over River Asker - SY4793

 The holes in the mud that you can see in the photo below are probably nesting sites of Sand Martins.

River Asker at Bridport - SY4793

Despite having checked before setting off that all the rights of way shown on my 2004 map were still correct on the later version of the Explorer map, there were still a view in the town that had changed and we had difficulty finding our way round. We ended up having to duck underneath a barbed wire fence and walking to the big roundabout on the A3066. We then walked familiar territory through Walditch to cross the A35 via the traffic lights opposite Palmers Brewery.

Palmers Brewery, Bridport - SY4692

The photo is taken at the point where the Rivers Asker and Brit meet, which I found very exciting. I hadn't realised it before. We continued south through a field of cows until we reached the A35 where we turned westwards.

Field near A35 - SY4691

It was just a case now of walking through Watton Farm back to Broad Lane and the Rest Area.

Watton Farm - SY4591

We weren't quite prepared for what lay behind Watton Farm (I refer the reader to aforementioned comment about subjects I choose to photograph and why).

Near Watton Farm - SY4591

There was a bit more confusion about where the path was before we were suddenly back at the set of steps we'd passed at the beginning of the walk.

Footpath onto Broad Lane, Eype - SY4592

We were nearly the only two cars left in the car park. Jane's windscreen crack hadn't grown much bigger and she confirmed with the insurance company that it was safe to drive thus until she could get it fixed. We had possible beaten our own record for the latest arrival back at the cars. Having told Jane I would follow her as far as the Dorchester road where we would part company, I kept to my side of the bargain even if she didn't. I ended up in Morrison's car park where she'd obviously decided to call in at the last minute! Then the road was closed at Melplash due to probably a crash and I ended up having to take a long diversion past Mapperton, so it took about an hour to get home. So what if the journey was much longer than expected? The walk had been much better than expected so we could call it quits!

Number of new gridsquares: 9

Number of miles walked: 12.9 (call it 13)

Number of rivers walked beside: 3

Stalbridge - 30th August 2018

"Best take the secateurs," was Paul's advice when I announced my intentions this morning. I'd said I was going to unknown territory where I'd never actually heard of anybody walking before and that there was likely to be a lot of footpaths through fields. We'd learnt from experience that this often means overgrown footpaths through lack of use.

So, a different part of the county, but the same sort of walk - fields and more fields!I was quite excited about today's walk though because I'd never been to Stalbridge before. Shock! Horror! I know. I've lived down here for nearly four years and I've never been to Stalbridge.

I had no preconceived ideas really. A look at the map told me there were no big hills, waterfalls or rivers. Hmmm. What was there then? Farms, lodges, a couple of churches and villages. Right, let's go and see . . .

Parking at The Hub in Stalbridge for free was a good start, and then there were the toilets. Toilet of the year award 201 or was it 2016? I can't remember. Anyway, I can recommend these loos with their own personalised air freshener and tissue box (by which I mean someone had written 'Ladies' in permanent marker on them).

I walked past the group of geriatrics all getting excited about the imminent opening of the library. I was pleasantly surprised by Stalbridge. I don't know what I expected, but I think I thought I'd barely notice the village. Not at all. It is oldy worldy with a market cross and some quaint shops, including one that offered to sharpen old tools.

Tool Shop, Stalbridge- ST7317

Stalbridge Post Office and Else Butchers - ST7317

Dorset Cycle shop, Stalbridge - ST7317

Stalbridge Market Cross - ST7317

I walked up the A357 towards the church.

St Mary's Church, Stalbridge - ST7318

As usual, I entered cautiously lest I were disturbing anyone and I'm glad I did because in the far corner of the church (nave?) there appeared to be a service going on so I withdrew quietly and left St Mary's Church with its secrets ready to explore on another occasion.

I bid good morning to some probable holiday makers struggling to fit their over-sized suitcases into their under-sized car and strolled off purposefully to find the footpath. And what a delight to find that the footpath was off  Drew's Lane. I snapped the shutter and smiled as I thought of my two brothers looking at the photo. Funny how such trivial things generate a disproportionate sense of satisfaction. (Drew was my maiden name in case anyone is wondering!)

Drew's Lane, Stalbridge - ST7318

I crossed the first field north out of Stalbridge and saw a horse in the next field. Never mind, it was only a small field and I could see my exit. The horse came galloping towards me and I held up my hands to look big ( a horsey friend's advice). This deterred it sufficiently enough for me to get to the gate. "Funny there's no footpath sign here," I thought to myself as I struggled with the rope to unfasten the gate. "Glad I brought my secateurs," I said aloud reaching to grab them from the side pocket in my rucksack. "Thank you Paul." But I was going to need more than a small pair of secateurs for the trees which had grown over this footpath since it was last used. I fought my way through the bulging hedge and pushed the gate shut. Only then did I check the map and of course discover that that wasn't the right exit at all and I was now in a completely different field than I needed to be in.

Thankfully the horse had retreated to its shelter so I fought my way back through the bulging hedge and closed the gate as best I could and found the correct exit which only involved getting a small electric shock upon closing the electric fence (one of those hook things which opened alright but wouldn't stretch across to close).

Undeterred I marched on across a dismantled railway.

Dismantled railway line, Stalbridge - ST7318

I strode across another field to another rubbish exit. This time the stile was broken (since reported). I joined two small ponies in the next field who didn't budge as I walked through to the road - Landshire Lane. This forms the Dorset/Somerset border.

Ponies at Wardshill Farm - ST7319

I walked along the road to the boundary post and examined the map.

Dorset/Somerset border south of Henstridge - ST7219

Boundary stone south of Henstridge - ST7219

Originally I'd intended walking into Henstridge and I wanted to know what I would be missing if I didn't go into Henstridge. There were no new gridsquares; I'd be missing the church and wander through the town, that was all as far as I could see. The wander and the church could wait until I'd finished all the Dorset gridsquares and started on Somerset's - so another lifetime then!

I crossed the A357 and continued on Landshire Lane although now there was a substantial wall to my left. "Is that the Dorset border?" I wondered, "Kind of like Hadrian's Wall or the Berlin Wall?" No, research later on told me that this was Stalbridge Park Wall for which there is no definitive explanation.

Park Wall, Stalbridge - ST7218

A sign for Stalbridge Quarries made a subject for square ST7118 - the quarry might have moved but the square had not!

Stalbridge Quarries has moved! - ST7118

I think I'd read that this is the only place in the vicinity that you get a good view of the Blackmore Vale, so I remembered to turn round and look. Not bad!

View to Blackmore Vale with Stalbridge Park Wall - ST7118

Road through Furge Plantation - ST7118

When I reached the T-junction at Copse House I plucked up courage to walk down the road to the trigpoint. This was 'necessary' not only because it was a new gridsquare, but because of the trigpoint, which I didn't actually know was there. Fortunately I didn't have to walk far down this busy road and even more fortunately, the trigpoint was there.

Trigpoint, Copse House - ST7018

I quickly retraced my steps (even managing a wee sprint) to Copse House, where I was glad to leave the roads and navigate my way round some reservoirs through Frith Wood to Purse Caundle. I'd been looking for somewhere to stop for coffee and probably would have done so at Henstridge Church if I'd decided to go that way, but now I decided to omit coffee/tea break and move straight onto lunch, early lunch. You see you can do that without having to consult anyone when  you're walking on your own. i tend to consult myself anyway. "How about forgetting the tea break and having an early lunch, Becky?" "Good idea." Sometimes I disagree with myself, but not very often. I'm so glad the old adage about answering  yourself being the first sign of madness is now known to be old hat!

Footpath through Frith Wood - ST7017

I didn't realise it at the time, but I went slightly wrong at Church Farm, Purse Caundle. In the absence of any signage I wandered through the farmyard to the road and didn't realise I'd done anything wrong until I went to retrace my steps and realised there was no footpath sign there.

But I've jumped ahead. It was now lunch time; I have a sort of rule that anytime after 12 noon is OK to stop for lunch. I tend to feel ridiculously uncomfortable about eating lunch before then, no matter how hungry I might be. It was 12.03 in the sleepy village of Purse Caundle and the sun was shining brightly.

Strictly speaking I didn't really need to have gone to Purse Caundle; I hadn't intended to, but just as I had intended to go to Henstridge and didn't, I hadn't intended to go to Purse Caundle and did. I'd struggled to find anywhere else to eat lunch and knew there was at least one bench there, albeit in full view of passers by and I kind of felt like I was being watched whilst dining as an upper window was closed whilst I was sitting there. The church is usually kept locked but fortunately I had already been inside on a previous visit to the village so that didn't bother me today. In fact I didn't even check the door.

I sat in the shade of the bus shelter and got out my picnic, hoping there wouldn't be a repeat of my last bus shelter experience at White Lackington when I'd been bothered by wasps. There wasn't; in fact there was nothing breathing whatsoever save myself and I was just about to drop off into a land of beautiful slumber when two chatty cyclists rode by and bid me good morning. "Or afternoon!" I called after them as if reassuring myself it really was OK to be eating lunch at such an early hour.

St Peter's Church, Purse Caundle - ST6917

After lunch I set off with a spring in my step and that's when I discovered I'd trespassed earlier. This time I found the correct footpath and wandered up and down looking for the exit into the field. Eventually I decided they'd diverted the path by a few yards and so wandered through a natural exit at the end of the field back to where I'd been half an hour ago.

This time, though I was taking the footpath to Dale's Covert and the wild meadow before me held a great deal of promise, although it didn't really deliver anything exciting.

Wild meadow that looked so promising - ST7017

I got quite excited when I noticed the pond on the map and even more so when I realised I'd be walking right by it. "I wish I'd not had lunch already," I texted Paul. But there was nowhere to sit by the pond which looked quite grubby; I wasn't convinced there'd be much in there.

Frith House pond - ST7017

With a distinct lack of anything else to distract me, I kept tiptoeing to see if I could catch a glimpse of Frith House itself. Yes, there it was just peering out of the trees. I snapped away. Half an hour later I began to feel I'd seen every angle of the house and just couldn't get rid of it.

Frith House from the south - ST7017

Apparently the house is in the National Open Garden Scheme and, if the teacup icon on the website is anything to go by, I could have walked down the long drive with fine views to the Edwardian House  and its self-contained hamlet and four acres of garden and requested a cup of tea. Maybe even a biscuit. Perhaps another time.

Footpath through Frith House Estate - ST7117

My heart sank when I saw a field full of cows, but I could see an escape route so I went through a different field instead and joined the farm track to Manor Farm.

Manor Farm - ST7116

The same thing happened later on when my bridleway was blocked by cows, but a quick glance at the map told me I could easily divert my route and end up at the same place by taking another footpath (and, more importantly I wouldn't be missing any gridsquares).

Both paths would have  led to Cockhill Farm and I was startled out of my zombie state by a yapping terrier and then by its owner/s who were having a very civilised picnic at a picnic bench outside their sizeable property. "I think it was as surprised to see me as I was to see it!" I said as I passed the picnicers and tried to look as if I knew exactly where I was going.

Approaching Cockhill Farm - ST7016

Dancing Oaks, Cockhill Farm - SY7016

Cockhill Farm - ST7016

I was forced to walk through a field of cows now as I walked south, but they did not stop me from turning round to photograph Haddon Lodge.

Haddon Lodge - ST7015

The next square was a challenge to photograph; there wasn't much of interest in it, so I settled for a photograph of the wood.

New Leaze Wood - ST7015

I could hear voices as I approached Rockhill Farm. Two men saying goodbye to each other and shaking hands; one thanking the other for helping him out and one getting into a car and driving off, the other waving him off. I said hello and stopped for a millisecond to look at my map. It's one thing wandering round someone's private garden looking for a path when there's no-one there, but you can't really be doing that when the owner is in full view. "Are you lost?" asked the man who was left. "Not really," I replied trying to sound confident. I wasn't lost. I had the map and knew exactly where I was and just needed to be able to wander at will in any which way to check I was going in the right direction. It was a common misconception amongst people who really want to be helpful and that's why I let them think they're helping. Of course, occasionally they really are helping, if there's no sign of the footpath, but nine times out of ten with a little bit of time I'd have been able to work it out for myself.

But isn't it nice that people want to help? In a world where conversation is threatened with extinction, I should not contribute to its demise by being rude and snubbing people. The great hiker and author Alfred Wainwright said on Desert Island Discs when questioned about his preference for solitude that if approached by a group of Duke of Edinburgh walkers he would greet the first one and that would have to do for the whole group. I've read one of his books and that attitude (amongst other misogynistic, chauvinistic and bigoted views) are very apparent. He contributed greatly to the world of walking, but if it were up to him women would be in the kitchen and bedroom and certainly not outdoors. I couldn't have tolerated him for very long.

So, when this tattooed and muscly hunk asked if I was lost I said I was trying to get to Stourton Caundle, at which he replied that I was kind of already there. "I know all the paths round here as I run them," and he went on to describe the route I wanted to take, adding that it wasn't the quickest way to get to the village. I didn't bore him with my reasons for wanting to take the longest possible route. i'd have looked too stupid. "Which way have you come?" he asked. Feeling confident he would know the paths given his previous statement to that effect, I said via Frith House. He looked quizzical. "About a mile in that direction," I pointed in its vague direction and thanked him for his help as I wandered off to find Stourton Caundle.

Where I would treat myself to the dregs from my flask and my box of raisins. With this to look forward to I plodded on through monotonous fields, looking briefly for the chapel marked in old English font on my map. No sign of it.

It turns out I was looking in the wrong place for the chapel. I'd thought it was a ruined chapel, but then obviously, it would have said Chapel (rem). After some research I discovered that the chapel still stands amongst the farm buildings on the south side of the brook - along the path I was walking in fact. There is said to be a small burial ground to the south of this chapel, a skeleton having been brought to the surface some time ago by floodwaters.

But of more interest even than this, is the fact that there used to be a castle on the north side of the Caundle Brook and that this castle is associated with a murder. Lord Charles Stourton, who once resided in the Castle, invited a man called Hartgill and his son to the castle on 12th January 1557. Charles had a long-standing disagreement with Hartgill although at the time of the invitation they were reconciled - or so Lord Charles said - because he ordered his servants to knock father and son down with clubs, cut their throats and bury them in the cellar. When convicted of these murders Lord Stourton was incarcerated in the Tower of London and then hung in Salisbury Market Square along with four of his servants.

I shall certainly look for an opportunity to revisit this site now I know about the murder story, but I think I'll avoid the area on 12th January!

Blissfully olivious to its grusesome past, I walked through this tranquil village to the church.

Near Stourton Caundle - ST7114

At the village I stopped in the church and drank my tea and found an old book about the history of Stourton Caundle. Obviously I couldn't sit there and read it all, but I did photograph the lovely amp which folded out of its back cover. Here I discovered the names of the fields I'd walked through: Higher Twitchem, Cox Close, Little Helears and Lower Barleas.

St Peter's Church, Stourton Caundle - ST7115

Stourton Caundle Parish map - ST7115

Leaving the church and the ghosts of the village behind, I walked up Drove Road, along Stokes Lane and then took a bridleway to Holtham Plantation.

Holtham Plantation - ST7215

Then I turned off towards Sturt Coppice. The footpath at Stalbridge Weston to Sturt Farm seemed to have disappeared so I walked along the road instead and quickly snapped a photograph of Sturt Farm for the gridsquare. I was weary now and looking forward to getting to the car and sitting down.

Sturt Farm - ST7216

Intrigued by the name Basel Bridge I imagined a cuddly fox puppet with a waistcoat banging his head and laughing "Boom! Boom!", but I was to be disappointed. There was nothing more than a ruinous wall; of course, I was back to Stalbridge Park and this was the boundary wall!

Basel Bridge - ST7217

I looked at my map - only one more gridsquare to go. But the Old barn was worth a photograph even if it wasn't in a new gridsquare.

Old Barn - ST7217

Unsure whether one could wander through Stalbridge Park, I decided not to risk it and to stick to the footpath. This led into the town of Stalbridge and the square I'd started in, but failed to photograph. I rectified that now.

Stalbridge street - ST7317

 I took a photograph of a blue plaque, expecting it to say something interesting about the village.

The Old House - where absolutely nothing happened - ST7317

That's because it was all happening down the road at Stourton Caundle Castle!

Back at the Hub the bus was dropping off the pensioners from their day trip out (Salisbury?Dorchester?Shaftesbury?Sherborne?) I raced them to the 'loo of the year'  and just beat them to it before sinking into the luxury of my cushioned car seat and driving home.


Number of miles walked: 12.6
Number of new gridsquares: 16
Number of trigpoints: 1
Number of views of Frith House: 4
Number of times chased by horse: 1
Number of times electrocuted: 1
Number of people murdered in the area covered: at least 2