Stourton Caundle

Description: Description: Description: Description: Description: Description: Summer 2008 250_opt
Text Box: An Introduction Stourton Caundle is a beautiful Dorset village in the Blackmore Vale, midway between Sherborne and Sturminster Newton. It is at the heart of Hardy country, surrounded by rolling hills and wonderful views. There is a network of local footpaths for those wishing to explore a little further. Entering from Sturminster Newton, a narrow lane, Cat Lane, winds over the brook and uphill to join the road from Bishops Caundle, before heading north and dipping down Golden Hill into the centre of the village. Here the main street broadens out, with a stream running alongside, the Trooper Inn on the right and Manor Farm opposite. Like most of the buildings in the village these are both built from the mellow local stone. There is a sprinkling of thatch although most of the houses and cottages have tile or slate roofs. Further north St Peter’s Church stands on the right, watching over the village as it has done for some 800 years. The road then winds uphill to the Jubilee Oak crossroads and then onwards towards Stalbridge About 400 people live here, with a healthy mix of young and old, established village families and new recruits. There are a variety of amenities, with a recently refurbished play area, the Church, village hall and of course the Trooper, selling quality real ales as well as mouth watering lunchtime meals and a more extensive evening menu on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, not to forget fish and chips on a Friday evening! 'At Peace day, who but we should goo To Caundle for an hour or two: As gay a day as ever broke Above the heads of Caundle voik, Vor Peace, acome for all, did come To them wii two new friends at hwome . Zoo while we kept, wi nimble peace The wold dun towir avore our feace The air at last, begun to come Wi drubbens of a beaten drum; Ani then we heard the horns loud drouts Play of a tuenis upper notes; An I then agean a risen chearm Vrom tongues of people in a zwarm; Ani zoo at last, we stood among The merry feaces oi the drong William Barnesw
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Text Box: photo: Richard Miles