How to apologise to a river without making it weird, and other stories

28 August 2025

Welcome to issue 3 of Tales from the Chase, a weekly newsletter for Cranborne Chase. Local events. Odd tales. Mildly strange goings-on. All delivered by email, free, and occasionally unhinged (in a charming way). Was this email forwarded to you? You can sign up for free by clicking below!

The Matter of Ebble (ongoing)

You might recall that in our very first newsletter, Hubert made some rather unwise comments about the River Ebble. Sadly the river herself was not amused and filed a formal complaint. Which leaves me in the unexpected position of having to apologise. To a river. Whoever said running a newsletter would be straightforward?

Lacking any prior experience in fluvial diplomacy (or forgiveness), and eager not to put a foot wrong, I turned to local folklorist Isla Cobb for guidance. She kindly shared some invaluable advice. More on that below.

Also featured this week:

• Some great events lined up over the next seven days, see what's catching our eye
• Find about about Filly Loo fun in Ashmore
• a range of other quirks, curios, and charmingly strange goings-on.

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28 August to 1 September

• End of the Road Festival (Tollard Royal): This acclaimed music festival happens at Larmer Tree Gardens. It features an eclectic mix of indie, folk, and alternative music, alongside comedy, art installations, and workshops in a beautiful woodland setting. Sadly, SOLD OUT! Resale tickets may be available.

30 August

• Alvediston Hop BBQ supper and country dancing to the one and only Hambledon Hopstep Band 9pm- 10pm at the Church Field.

Tickets £15, 8-15 years £5, and under 8's free.

Every day until 31 August

• Longleat Summer Carnival. Swing by for adventure, wildlife and thrills at the funfair! Reach new heights with on the helter-skelter and swing boats and enjoy the whimsy of the classic carousel, all included in the cost of your day ticket. summer-carnival​

Every day until 2 September

• Stourhead Summer of Play is back! Endless fun every day at the Stableyard and the Summer of Play Meadow. Straw castle, archery range, meadow maze. Just at weekends, expert circus performers from BigTopMania and friends will share their skills. Or get crafty with Wiltshire Scrapstore every Friday to Sunday. Click here for details.​

Every day until 7 September

• Kingston Lacy Summer of Play. Head to the Kitchen Garden to join the fun. Play with giant building blocks, relax in the story garden, put on a performance at the puppet theatre and discover lots more games and activities. There are also two wonderful play areas to discover and explore, one in the Kitchen Garden and one on the Woodland Walk. Click here for details.​

How to apologise to a river without making it weird

Seeking advice on how to apologise to a disgruntled river goddess, I arranged to meet local folklorist, Isla Cobb, on the bench at the top of Win Green.

By way of introduction, she surprised me with a story: she’s seen Ebble in human shape.

“It was in the ’90s,” Isla said, “when she turned up as a middle-aged woman fond of country music. I met her at line dancing in the village hall. She had a pair of red boots with little silver stars on the sides, and she always brought a flask of something. For a while she kept a cottage by the river, down Bishopstone way. Answered to ‘Mary’, though everyone knew she wasn’t. Back then she was curious, wanted to taste our ways, hear our music, dance with us. She had a glamour about her, a pull, and folk warmed to her straight off.

But one evening she slipped away mid-dance, left her boots by the door, and the next day the cottage windows were dark. She stays in her own skin these days. I still have the boots, fit me a treat and never wear out”

As for advice, she had this:

• Do it in person, not in writing. Go to her.
• Keep the apology warm. No attempts at wit, no clever turns of phrase. She’ll weigh every word
• Bring an offering. A flat stone inscribed with a simple message will do. Even just sorry
• Be respectful, not performative. And show you care; scan the area, and if there's any litter around, pick it up, take it with you when you leave
• Don’t delay. “If too much time passes,” Isla warned, “she’ll take your silence as an answer.”

​
“Trust me" she said. " I knew her when she wore cowboy boots and sang along to Shania Twain in the pub. She was kind enough then, but even in human shape she had that look in her eye. River-eyes. Grey, but shifting, never quite the same colour twice. Ancient, deep, and cool.”

She added that whilst an apology from Tales from the Chase was likely to be welcomed, the real culprit was Hubert. He needs to step up and apologise too.

As she stood up to leave, she said "Take this. There's some ideas in there. Maybe share it with Hubert. Good luck". She handed me a leaflet titled:

How to Apologise to a Watercourse Without Making it Weird.

Well, I've read it, and I have a plan. I'll let you know how I get on next week.

A parish by parish tour of the Chase

And so it continues. Our parish-by-parish pilgrimage through the Chase’s 108 parishes. Alphabetical order, of course; Hubert's in charge and he likes methodical.

This week: Ashmore, the highest village in Dorset.

ashmore

Like many Chase villages, Ashmore is tiny but has a long history. Only about 170 residents live here in the highest village in Dorset, which can trace its roots (possibly) all the way back to Romano-British times.

At the heart of the village lies a fine example of an embanked dew pond, possibly of great antiquity (for more background on dew ponds, see last week’s feature!). The village is set amidst glorious Chase countryside, with excellent walking to be found all around. Delving into the rich history of the parish has been a real pleasure. And of course, Hubert shares more insights below!

ASHMORE

Ashmore sits on its hilltop, staring down the centuries like it’s won some invisible prize for doing absolutely nothing. It basks in its own tedious immortality.

The lanes seem to confidently go nowhere. They meander gently toward oblivion, ending in a feeling.

But midsummer sees dances whose steps no one admits to teaching. Dances whose echoes never leave. Secrets hang thick in the air, invisible because, honestly, most people are quite dim.

Notable for: the pond​
Right in the middle of the village sits the famous Ashmore Pond. They say some Romano-British lads enlarged it from a natural feature, but who can really tell? It’s basically a big round puddle. Ducks like it. The village got its name from it too (Ash - mere), which tells you a lot about the level of ambition we’re dealing with here. The pond is so central to the village's identity it may legally qualify as it's mayor.

Other features

St. Nicholas Church​
The Victorians rebuilt the old medieval church in 1874, which means it’s old enough to be draughty but not old enough to be very interesting. They did keep the 13th-century arch though, probably because it was less effort than making a new one. The churchyard supposedly holds bones dug up in the 19th century while cutting a road in the vicinity of a long barrow. They were reburied here, and the Gappergennies, noisy spirits said to haunt the area, suddenly went quiet. Coincidence? You decide.

The Wesleyan Chapel​
Right across from the church, there’s a (former) chapel from 1855. Because apparently one church wasn’t enough. Nothing says “community spirit” like glaring across the street at your rivals. These days, it's an ex-chapel, and someone's home.

Ashmore Wood​
To the south, there's Ashmore Wood. Nice if you like watching wildlife scuttle away from you. But stay away from Washer's Pit, in the bottom next to the Fontmell Road; unless you're brave. There's allegedly a Woman in White. Maybe even Gappergennies. I don't know what to make of all that.

Other information

A post box, from the era of King George VI. Like the one in Alvediston. No one thinks this one is haunted though. They have other things to worry about round here.

A defibrillator in the old phone box. Village charm, with a side order of shock treatment.

Some vending machines in an old outhouse. The Dairy Stand; Coffee, tea, whole milk, chocolate, cheese and sourdough biscuits available. Oh the thrill of rural life. Pushing buttons for artisanal cheese and biscuits. But handy when you forgot your picnic.

Filly Loo​
Every summer the “Filly Loo", a midsummer shindig, takes place on the Friday closest to the solstice. Nobody really knows why its called Filly Loo. Some say it’s from "fille de l'eau", French for “maiden of the water.” Others say it’s old local dialect for “uproar.” Someone even suggested it was just named after a local chap. Take your pick.

It has supposedly mysterious and ancient roots, celebrating the longest day of the year and the life-giving nature of the pond. Whatever, it’s an excuse to dance badly in public and pretend that’s fun.

Highlights of Filly Loo:

The Green Man: someone straps on leaves and parades around, pretending to be the “ancient spirit of nature.” Call him a mythical figure if you like. I call him Dave from accounts wondering how he got talked into cosplaying a shrub.

Folk dancing: Morris dancers, ceilidh bands, and local folk troupes stamp, twirl, and jingle with reckless enthusiasm. All the things guaranteed to make me wish I’d stayed home with the telly.

The Abbots Bromley Horn Dance: The torch-lit highlight involves men strapping reindeer antlers to their heads and moving in strange patterns. Supposedly an ancient ritual. The atmosphere is “haunting”.

The Final Dance: And finally, everyone holds hands and circles the pond like they’re celebrating some ancient covenant with the earth. Community spirit, they call it. With all the drink that's been consumed, I call it a good way to trip over toes. Whatever you do, tread carefully. Sometimes it feels as though the circle has been joined by others, unnoticed and keeping step.

Summary

More than just its pond, Ashmore carries on as it always has, with midsummer rituals and the vague hope that no one will ask too many questions about why. If that doesn’t convince you to visit, well that makes two of us.

Suggested itinerary

• Arrive in the half-light.
• Stand by the pond. If the waters ripple when all is still, do not ask what lies beneath.
• Walk to St. Nicholas. Step under the old chancel arch. It has watched seven centuries of prayers, but answers none. Leave quickly.
• Wait for midsummer. As dusk falls, follow the horned ones. Watch the dancing. Do not join the circle.
• Notice that some folk have wider eyes, brighter eyes, bluer eyes.
• Notice that these wide-eyed bright-eyed blue-eyed folk are no longer there when the music stops, although you did not see them leave.
• Walk into Ashmore Wood. Deer scatter. Badgers rustle. A fox follows at a distance. If you hear laughter, screaming or whispering behind you, run.
• Leave before dawn.

NEXT WEEK: BARFORD ST MARTIN

Sorry Hall fans, no entries this week, even made up ones. Hubert is disappointed, but also, I suspect, has other things on his mind, of a watery nature. Maybe next week!

Time to slip quietly down the lane, muttering just one more story to yourself. Leave the lantern lit. Someone else is bound to be up to something soon. Until next week!

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