The Green Thief at Hodders Combe

It was a crisp morning which lazily flowed into afternoon before my family and I finally arrived at Holford, and every time I had been there in the last few months it had been deserted, wet (British) and very muddy, the perfect head space to site a trail, and write a tale.

All tales need some spark, something to get them moving, then it's written and parked (it's been a few months since I wrote it) so I thought now was a good opportunity to put it to the sharp critics (my family) and do a field test.

My youngest who is only seven had already heard the story which I had been telling him at bed time over the weeks when it was evolving, and unlike me he remembers it, and often adds the bits which I forget I had added. This is the best technique for me, tell the tale as much as I can, walk the path and place, and the story kind of tells/writes itself (ish!) or the faults get ironed out, and the plot starts to knit better.

So there we were, at Holford bowling green, beneath a fabulous winter sun, and even though we were in Hodders Combe, which is on the North face of the Quantocks, it was still catching a little of that golden magic in the branches. But what I was not expecting was that on this day, the first January weekend when the weather was not madly wet, everybody had decided to come walk (and cycle) here as well! 

So I felt a little on display with my iPad and family listening in to the tale, and then everything conspired against me, the iPad said no to finding satellites and rather than have my family stand about in the cold for ten minutes whilst it woke up, I thought no, this is a great place for a walk, with or without a tale.

So off we set, up the valley, chasing sticks and telling tales of other things that have happened here.

Coleridge and Wordsworth (and Dorothy Wordsworth's sister) discovered this place long ago, and the poetry they wrote laid the foundations for the Romantic Literary movement. Ever since people have been walking in their footsteps and adding to this legacy in some way or another.

But today was just a walk with the family and the dog (Fable) in a fabulously beautiful place, if any where were to take credit for the birthplace of Romantic Poetry then this should be it. We jumped streams, splashed rocks in the stream, the boys climbed trees and got muddy dirty (again) and then when we got back to the green I took them along to see Dorothy's glen, again made famous by the three some 200 years ago.

So I'll have to go back and test the walk another day, it won't be set live till then, so you'll all have to be patient, sorry.

But in the mean time here is a little snippet to wet the appetite.

Intro

Many years ago, and well before living memory, a curious man came calling at the local Inn with a proposition for the good people of Holford. Who were they to refuse such an offer and they accepted with good cheer but little did they know how simple things escalate, and what payment he would ask for his services.


Chapter 1

It was a dark night with a blistering wind and seeing as the cost of fuel has always been high, it was common for locals to gather here. Late into the evening, the door opened but a crack and in stepped a tall skinny man who brought the ice of the night right into the heart of the hall.

’Good people of Holford I have a little proposition for you.’ Everyone was quiet, listening to the stranger.

’Would you like a warm winter?’

’Yes’ came the reply.

’Would you like the snow and frost to stay away?’

’Yes’ they said a little louder.

’Would you like a calm and balmy winter without the need even for a hearth?’

’Yes’ they all cried and raised their tankards to the rafters.

’Well then, I can give you this but I will want a little payment in return.’ There was a long pause, and he then continued. ’All I ask is a single Goose to be brought up the Combe to where the beck splits in two. Leave her there on the 21st December, the winter solstice and your winter shall be stately.’

This sounded good to the villagers, but the thin man had not finished speaking.

’But if you do not leave me a single Goose, then on the 1st May I will expect six in the same manner.’  And then he was gone through the crack in the door into the cold night.