As time passed by . . . this is Tyneham’s story

by Nick Churchill

Isolated as much by geography as history, Tyneham offers a unique perspective on the way things used to be. Nobody has lived here since 1943 and today the valley is part of the Lulworth firing ranges, owned by the Ministry of Defence.

Dorset has been a vital military training ground for more than 150 years, but the Army’s policy of improving public access to Tyneham and the surrounding area means it is open for up to 150 days a year when not being used for live firing exercises.

The people of this idyllic valley lived simple lives relatively untouched by the outside world, but Tyneham’s fate was sealed by Churchill’s War Cabinet when it decided the valley was needed for military training ahead of the D-Day landings.

The chain of events that has seen Tyneham capture the public imagination began on 19 December 1943 with the complete evacuation of the village and surrounding area. Everybody had to leave. Nobody came back.

1901


They lived in the splendid Tyneham House out of view in Tyneham Great Wood. Apart from the fishermen at Worbarrow and a few non-tenant farmers, nearly all the villagers depended on the Bonds for a living.

Six o’clock in the morning and 11-year-old Fred Lucas is filling buckets from the village water pump. He lives in Shepherd’s Cottage at the end of The Row with his parents, nine brothers and sisters and baby nephew.

His sister Edith, 15, has left for Tyneham House where she’s a scullery maid. Fred’s not at school today, it’s harvest time and he’s needed in the fields. This week he’s going to market in Wareham. He’ll have to walk, but he doesn’t mind – it’s his first trip out of the valley.

The Bond family have owned the Tyneham Valley for over 200 years.

1924


The closure of the coastguard station in 1912 marked the beginning of a gradual decline in Tyneham’s population.  

More families drifted away after the Great War and the village school closed in 1932. Although Tyneham’s population was decreasing, increased car ownership meant Tyneham was a popular destination for visiting motorists who paid to park there. There was even a tearoom at Worbarrow.

Helen Taylor is off to Tyneham House where she has worked as a seamstress since leaving school at 14 in 1916. With her sister Bessie, she lives at Laundry Cottages, the only house in the village with running water, doing the washing for the ‘Big House’ and for Rev. Corfield at the Rectory.

They took on the work of their mother Emily who died in 1917, grief stricken by the loss of three sons, William, Arthur and Bert, in the War. Another fourteen sons of the parish also perished.

1943


Under the cover of official secrecy, 225 people from 102 properties were evacuated.

By Christmas, all residents from Tyneham and the surrounding area were gone. Training for the D-Day landings which were to happen in six months time began in earnest.

Unlike many villages requisitioned during World War Two, Tyneham was never handed back. In the new world order, Lulworth firing ranges were crucial to our defence and in 1952 the entire valley was compulsorily purchased for £30,000.

It’s nearly Christmas, but there’s little cheer as the last of the villagers leave.

Ralph Bond was only given notice to clear the valley last month – the same day he learned his son Mark was missing in action. His wife Evelyn pins a note to the church door imploring the Army to ‘treat the church and houses with care.’ It concludes:

‘We shall return one day and thank you for treating the village kindly.’

Many leave reluctantly, particularly the elderly, but with the enemy just across the Channel, others are relieved.

1968


Articles in the press had kept the village that ‘Died for D-Day’ in the public eye.

Tyneham was open on public holidays to permit access to the beach, but the village remained behind barbed wire as nature reclaimed the derelict homes.

August bank holiday and in keeping with the radical spirit of the times, Rodney Legg and the Tyneham Action Group are demonstrating in the car park. A display of old photographs shows the village in its heyday.

Having enlisted former villagers like war veteran John Gould and Philip Draper, whose father built ‘Sheepleaze’ on the cliff above the beach in 1910, they’re campaigning for the valley to be given to the National Trust. The Army has enraged protestors by dismantling Tyneham House with 14th and 15th century stonework removed to stately homes at Bingham’s Melcombe and Athelhampton.

1976


Public and political pressure eventually forced the Government’s hand.

In 1974 Lord Nugent was commissioned to investigate military land holdings, but although he recommended the release of Lulworth ranges a White Paper subsequently rejected the report and the increasingly factionalised campaigners had to settle for greater access instead. The first church service for 36 years was held at St Mary’s in 1979.

Dave and his team are on the church roof replacing the rotten timbers. Years of neglect have taken their toll but work is progressing well. The boards have been removed from the windows and morning sunlight is streaming into the church for the first time in over thirty years.

Since the protesters’ battle lines dissolved, the Army has been working to open Range Walks and plans to have many of the cottages cleared, their dilapidated roofs removed and broken walls made safe.

2003


The Army’s presence has prevented Tyneham’s surrender to tourism.

The refurbished schoolroom opened in 1994, followed by Tyneham Farm in 2008 where, a year later, the first concert in the village for more than 70 years was staged.

Arthur Grant is at the newly renovated St Mary’s Church. His family lost its home here in 1943, but he’s back today for a carol service to mark the 60th anniversary of the evacuation.

There’s a warm atmosphere inside as Mark Bond arrives to greet people that were once his family’s tenants and servants.

‘My thoughts go back to Tyneham at Christmas because we had such fun carol singing,’ says Arthur. ‘Nobody thought anything of walking and we’d go all over the village, up to the House and over to Kimmeridge. We had flasks of tea and mince pies as we went.  Beautiful times.’

Today and tomorrow


Byelaws prevent the commercial development of Tyneham, which is why you won’t find a gift shop there. Instead more humble pleasures can be enjoyed: the rich wildlife, the range walks, swimming from the beach, the wealth of historical interest, or simply soaking up the deep sense of peace.

Much has been written in which this place is cast as somehow lost, a ghost village. It’s neither lost nor dead, but it has evolved in unfamiliar ways and remains one of the most beautiful places in the country.

Tyneham gave its heart for its country in 1943, but with sympathetic management its soul will survive for generations to come.

Nick Churchill 2011

www.nickchurchill.org.uk

2015 Obituary: Dorothy ‘Grace’ Grant

DOROTHY ‘GRACE’ GRANT Passed away peacefully at home after a short illness on Thursday 13th August aged 88 years. Beloved wife of the late Arthur (photographer). Much loved mum of Geoff and Annette and to Tanya and Mike. Dear grandma of Jamie-Lee, Saffron and Poppy and to Andrew, ‘G-Mar’ of Gracie-May and Harlie-Arthur. Funeral Service in the Church of St Martin on the Walls, Wareham on Friday 21st August at 2.00pm. Family flowers only please, donations if desired for Marie Curie, Wareham Health Centre and The Tyneham Fund may be sent to Albert Marsh Funeral Directors, St Michaels Road, Wareham, Dorset, BH20 4QU.

Published in the Dorset Echo on 15th August 2015

Poem: “Tyneham” by Fiona Fulton

Down in the valley where grasses roll to the sea,
And blue joins seamlessly with blue,
A building graveyard slumbers.
High-limbed trees arch over rough walls and empty windows,
Stream running clear to nowhere.
Step to the schoolhouse-
Step, stop and listen.
High-pitched voices at play dance lightly,
Dust motes of memory.
The church bell rings, calls
do not forget us,
do not let our sacrifice go
unnoticed and unattended.
Wild flowers catch our eye,
nodding wisely in the breezes.
“Each year we wither and yet return,
our roots clinging deep to the land.”
So too, the memories clinging here
live once more through travellers’ eyes
and we walk away, hushed and aware.

Poem: “Tyneham” by Steph Gassor

Sometimes my mind strays alone in the valley
Watching the sunshine dappling through the ageless trees.
The sweet, clear stream trickles on to the coastline
Adding its own music to the humming of the bees.
Then I can wander through the skeletal cottages,
Which once were homes with life within their walls.
A rusting copper nestles in a barren outhouse,
While through the open eaves the pigeon calls.

The whole row of houses stand guard to their village,
Eerily, silently holding their own.
Despite being abandoned, bombed and derelict
A sense of long ago life still abounds.
Within the church take time to linger,
Where names and faces come quickly to life.
Yet in the churchyard those very same names
Are carved in the gravestones, both man and wife.

Climb up the hillside and look down at the village.
Beautiful, quiet, unspoilt it lies
Within the deep valley, cutting down to the fields
To the stark coastline where the waves heave and sigh.
There are very few places that my heart would linger,
And fewer places still that my soul would rest,
But with Tyneham I’ve found my own little paradise,
And I could settle for nothing less.

Tripcony

My Great-Great-Grandfather Anthony Martin TRIPCONY (1820-1889) from St Keverne, Cornwall, was employed in the coastguard service in Warbarrow in the 1850s, just after marrying Harriet GRIFFIN on the Isle of Wight.

The first four of their children were baptised in Tyneham Church: Seth in 1853, Elizabeth & Harriet in 1856 and my Great-Grandmother Susannah in 1858.

Susannah married Alfred Tadd (1858-1895) in Chichester, Christmas eve 1880. She had 5 children: Edward, William, Ernest, Ellen (my Grandmother) & Rosa.
…so I found it a extra special place to visit a few years ago and must return soon.

Susannah died in Portsmouth 11 Sept 1926.

Hollow Ditch and a Hollow Promise

by Roy Martin

Hollow Ditch Farm was at West Creech; about one kilometre, five furlongs, north-west of Creech Grange, which we knew as Grange House. The farmhouse and outbuildings seem to be built mainly of sandstone, with brick corners. The farmers who lived there were tenants of the Bond family.

Matthew Langrish Charles (1866-1939) and his wife Susan Priscilla Charles (1877-1947) (pictured below) were the tenants in the 1920s and probably earlier. Aunt Sue was a Balson from the hamlet of Whiteway. She had married Uncle Mat at Tyneham in July 1913, when she was 26, over twenty years younger than him. In the 1891 census Matthew was living at Egglestone (Egliston) with his parents William & Emma Charles. Matthew was recorded as an Agricultural Labourer and his father as a Shepherd; in 1901 Matthew was still there but described as a Carter.  By 1911 he was living at Hollow Ditch with his father, and was recorded as an ‘Estate Labourer’.

Aunt Sue & Uncle Mat at Hollow Ditch in the 1930s

My father, Gerald Charles Martin, was born at Whiteway in 1916. His Dorchester born father, Alma Victor Martin, was killed on 18 November 1916 in the Battle of Ancre, the last day of the Battle of the Somme. His mother Edith Ellen Martin (neé Balson), Susan’s sister, contracted TB and was sent to the Sanatorium at Poole. As she was unable to look after her little boy he was sent to Hollow Ditch; a rather lonely boy as there were no other children, though the Cake family were at the nearby Whitehall Farm. He seems not to have been formally adopted.

There was a small primary school at Creech and for his secondary education my father cycled daily to Wareham. I sometimes think how different his life might have been if he had been able to go to the new Grammar School at Swanage, he was certainly bright enough, but the money would not have been there.

My father and mother met when she was ‘in service’ at Grange House, then just about the only opportunity for a working class girl. When they married in 1936 Mat and Sue bought them a small bungalow at Wool, being a prudent couple they charged the young Martins rent of ten shillings a week – so that the young couple would ‘learn the value of money’. From there Dad could motor cycle to work at Bovington Camp. I was born there later that year.

My memories of Hollow Ditch must be from 1943, by this time Aunt Sue was a widow.

I remember making butter in a small glass churn; now I see the photograph of Sue’s solitary cow I can see why we only made enough for ourselves. Other memories include sorting the stored apples to throw out any that had ‘gone off’ and eating wild strawberries on the banks of Pike’s clay pit railway to their Povington mine. I suffered bad stomach ache after those strawberries!

In 2009 I contacted the military at Lulworth Camp and they were kind enough to arrange for a Ranger, with a 4×4, to take us where ever we wanted to go. We first headed to Hollow Ditch;  I wished that my parents could have seen it once more, but it is now a sad sight. There were no strawberries to be seen, but there was still fruit in the orchard. We then went to Whiteway, but there is even less there. What came to mind at both sites were the ‘then and now’ photographs of Normandy, with the buildings all rebuilt: and the similar devastation at the South Georgian whaling stations, where I also took many photographs.

Uncle Mat died in 1939; so when the eviction notice arrived in November 1943 Aunt Sue was living alone. By that time my father was in Italy with the Royal Engineers and most of the male Balsons and her mother were dead, so she must have felt rather alone. She moved to Kimmeridge, where she lived together with a refugee called Eva (pronounced Ava).

Like the other evacuees Sue was never allowed to return to her home. She died at 22 Kimmeridge in 1947 and Eva moved to a small bungalow at the junction of Holme Lane and Grange Road. The old house now looks as if it will be swallowed up by the West Creech Clay pit, a giant white hole.

It would seem that the military is able to sell the land it requisitioned, but will not allow the families to return to their homes. A Hollow Promise indeed.

We are very grateful to Roy Martin for writing this feature for us. If you would like to write a feature about your ancestors from Tyneham parish, please get in touch at info@tynehamopc.org.uk


Rodney Legg quotes Mrs S P White

One of the younger girls, Edith, worked at Tyneham house. She married but her husband was also killed in the war and she was left with a little boy.  Later she died and was always discussed in grim whispers (galloping consumption and a broken heart) but Gerald was brought up by another aunt at Hollow Ditch, a smallholding north-west of Creech Grange. I spent many happy holidays with them and the more familiar with that part.

This was a sturdy little house with little windows and thick walls. Large cupboards by the fireplace house hams and smoked bacon. Breakfast there were marvellous meals – my aunt and uncle having done hours of work fetching the cows and milking by hand, had by this time developed large appetites. Hence we had masses of eggs, thick slices of bacon and chitterlings and soft potato cakes. Sometimes they cooked eels which cousin Gerald had teased me with early in the morning.

Mother’s name was Beatrice Bessie Balson, and you can imagine how she was teased about that. Her sister, Susan, who lived at Hollow Ditch, married Matthew Charles.

At Hollow Ditch there was a large russet apple tree, large wooden butter pats with intricate patterns, and rows of lovely golden butter laid on a tray ready to go to Wareham market. Once a lady named Elsie Cake called, on a straight-up, no-nonsense bicycle with a fancy chain-guard. She hopped off in a most graceful manner, in spite of long skirts and button boots.  I later tried to do the same but came a cropper.

In the evenings I would go across the heath to the Marepool and watch the deer drinking at dusk. It was also from this spot that I watched Lulworth Castle burning (in 1929). My grandparents are buried at Tyneham churchyard and Aunt Susan was buried at Steeple. She ended her days in a cottage at Kimmeridge, having been moved there at the time of the evacuation.  But she always hoped to return to Hollow Ditch…

 

Balson’s Gap and Malhala’s Fortune by Roy Martin

In her book, Tyneham, A Lost Heritage, Lillian Bond wrote: “The first of the Tyneham woodmen that I remember was a Balson … Old Balson was a little, wiry man as gnarled and woody looking as a tree root. His clothes, well weathered by long use, were the traditional corded leggings and a thick leather coat, topped by a round and ear-flapped headdress of brown fur.”

Two William Balson’s:
I think that he is the one on the right, the other may be his father.

She goes on to describe him at some length, then says: “His home was in the heath at Povington and he walked to his work, taking as near as possible a bee line over the hill. The track worn by his daily journeys in the course of the years out lasted him for many more, and the place in the hedge where he climbed from the North Hill into Madmore continued, long after his death, to be known as Balson’s Gap.”

To learn about his cottage, which was in the hamlet of Whiteway, we need to go back to earlier William Balsons. The first recorded William Balson (1759–1835) was the son of a John Balson; he married Elizabeth Miller in January 1789. The Millers were, and still are, a fishing family. Their first child Thirza was born in the same year, and their second Mahala arrived in 1791. Their sons Henry and John were born in 1802 and 1804 respectively; there may have also been a William who died young. The next son, Robert, went on to farm at Creekmoor near Poole, where he was described as a Yeoman.

William II, William and Elizabeth’s last recorded son, was born in 1811. He seems to have remained in Purbeck. This William married Elizabeth Snelling (various spellings) on 23 May 1830. They were both nineteen and their first child, a daughter Kizah, was born four months later.

The first entry in Henry Roll’s Journal is: “Wm Balson began billding his house at Whiteway this spring of 1833, over the lake south of the road going to Povington. They went into it in the spring of 1834.” As William I was an old man by now, he died at Tyneham in 1835, the builder seems to have been William II. By this time William II and Elizabeth had a son, John.

William chose well; though the site was on the edge of the heath the chalk steam known as Luckford Lake flowed past. This not only gave a constant supply of clean water, it also neutralized the acid heathland soil. If needed more chalk could be wheeled down from the nearby pit.

How did William get to know of the site? It could be that he had a night job, guiding the smugglers and the landers through the lonely open country, to get their goods across the River Frome to Bere Regis and even on to the Capital? Early in the journey they would have had to cross Whiteway or Povington Hill. Could it have been this Balson, and his convoy, who first made Balson’s Gap? His Miller in-laws would probably been involved!

William’s sister Mahala was twenty years older than him, she had never married. An unnamed child of William and Elizabeth Balson was christened at Corfe Castle on 30 December 1791: as their other early children were also christened at Corfe, it is probable that this was Mahala.

In the 1841 Tyneham census Mahala and her mother Elizabeth are described as paupers; but ten years later she was recorded as an annuitant. By the time she made her will in February 1855 Mahala was living in Wareham. She bequeathed almost five hundred pounds to various members of the family. Her first, and worst, choice was her nephew James, the son of the yeoman Robert. She left this young man £300. Robert was obviously upset that James should have been chosen and only left him five shillings in his own will. James was, or became, a ne’er-do-well; he seems never to have owned a house or land and spent two spells in Dorchester prison. One of Mahala’s other bequests was fifty pounds to William III, who later took over the house at Whiteway; he is the Balson that Lillian Bond wrote about. He was my great grandfather.

How did an elderly spinster end up with a fortune deposited in the Dorchester Bank? Some have said that she was generous, though not free, with her favours. It is difficult to imagine that she amassed the equivalent of fifty years wages in that way! Others say that the money came from smuggling, but why then did she have it and not the others? It is difficult to imagine that she, or the men, would have taken £500 in cash to Dorchester or even to a Wareham branch; without the Magistrates, and the whole County, becoming aware.

The name Mahala is unusual, but not unknown in Dorset. It also occurs in many other languages, including Zulu, where, as Malhala, it means ‘free of charge’ or a gift.

Thank you to Anne Lyons for sending me copies of the wills of Mahala and Robert and my brother Eric Martin for pointing out the possible South African connection. Luckford Lake marks the western extremity of the Isle of Purbeck.

Roy Martin,
December 2014

We are very grateful to Roy Martin for writing this feature for us. If you would like to write a feature about your ancestors from Tyneham parish, please get in touch at info@tynehamopc.org.uk

Poem: “The Tale of Tyneham” by Angela Wybrow

Nestling in the valley below Whiteway Hill,
There stands a village where time’s been standing still.
The villagers of Tyneham, they very well remember
The year of ’43 and that bitterly cold November.

The villagers went about their usual daily chores,
Oblivious to letters which headed to their doors.
To sell their homes, the folk found they had zero choice;
Against the government War Office, folk had zero voice.

The land, it was purchased for British Army training.
Within a single month, not a soul was left remaining.
Upon the church door, there was pinned a note –
Here is the gist of what somebody wrote:

“Please treat the houses and church with due care.
A flattened village, us folk really couldn’t bear.
We’re all really hoping to return home one day.
Please look after our village while we are away.’

The last folk left their homes prior to Christmas ‘43 –
They’d hoped to return, but sadly that wasn’t to be.
With the enemy so near, some folk were relieved,
But, for their little village, many people grieved.

Over two hundred folk found themselves displaced.
Of life in the village, there’s now such little trace.
The ravages of time have surely taken their toll;
Memories of residents, the village still beholds.

The church and the school, they still stand intact,
But, against the little houses, the odds were sadly stacked.
Upon school peg hooks, there are still pupils’ names,
And their work upon the desktops to this day remains.

In this small rural village on Dorset’s Jurassic coast,
There now only remains aged spirits and ghosts.
For the war effort, Tyneham played its part.
For our great nation, Tyneham gave its heart.

Tall story: Brilliant sketches by an Englishman which were found in a dusty folder show how the Eiffel Tower was built

By Daniel Miller

It was a wonder of modern engineering when it was completed in 1890 and remained the tallest building in the world for an astonishing 41 years.

Now, brilliant drawings by a young English artist of the Eiffel Tower as it was being built have been found hidden away in a dusty folder. They are revealed here for the first time and show the tower’s construction in intricate detail.

The sketches have remained in the family of artist Warwick Herbert Draper since he drew them as a young student in the city between 1887 and 1890.

The never-seen-before pictures show the entire process of the tower being built as well as Parisians enjoying the new attraction in their city.

Detail: A series of sketches have been uncovered by a young British student showing the building of the Eiffel tower. This picture shows the summit with stairs leading to the lighthouse at the very top

They include details of the geology of the area, the foundations, the metal being worked on and people going up in the lifts and enjoying the tower.

Each drawing is annotated and shows what a talent Draper had, combining draughtsmanship and human study.

It is thought he visited Paris several times during the period in which the tower was built and each time sketched what was going on.

The drawings were passed down through his family and his grandson John Ritchie recently found them tucked away in a folder.

He has now decided to sell them at auction where they could fetch several thousand pounds.

In this picture a rudimentary crane is shown hoisting steel sections to workers building a part of the structure. The sketches have remained in the family of English artist Warwick Herbert Draper since they were drawn between 1887 and 1890
Toil: A gang of riveters at work during the construction of the tower. Drawn in black pen, the 17 sketches show the entire process of the tower being built
Draper is thought to have visited Paris several times during the period the tower was built and each time sketched what was going on

Deborah Doyle, from auctioneers Duke’s of Dorchester, Dorset, said: ‘The drawings are of great interest as they show different stages of the Eiffel Tower being constructed.Draper was obviously a very talented draughtsman.’

‘These small drawings show first the geological sections of the strata at the foot of the tower, the position of the four foundation blocks and several drawings of workers at work including one of the Edoux lifts with people changing cars at a height of 650ft.

‘The final drawing of the summit of the Eiffel Tower shows the light-house, laboratories, and the Edoux lift.’

One of Draper’s earliest drawings show the creation of one of the four concrete bases at the foot of the tower
This drawing shows a cross section of one of the lower end of one of the main beams

Draper went on to work as a barrister but continued to draw and paint – skills that he taught himself.

He qualified for the bar in 1898 and later lived at Kelmscott House in Hammersmith, west London, the former home of artist William Morris.

After Morris’s death in 1896, Hammersmith became the centre of the Arts and Crafts movement and a magnet for artists including Frank Brangwyn, Eric Gill and Mary Fedden.

Draper was a leading figure in a range of voluntary and political activities in Hammersmith and Chiswick.

Mr Ritchie, from Weymouth, said: ‘I don’t know much about my grandfather but he worked as a barrister and I believe his art was self-taught.

‘I don’t know how long he was in Paris or whether he visited several times during the construction of the tower.

‘The drawings have been in a folder and they are the type of thing that people might want to see.’

Sketches showing two Parisians going up in the lift and the ticket office at the foot of the tower 
This drawing shows people entering their names at the Figaro newspaper office on the second level of the tower

‘I think he must have been quite a character.’

The Eiffel Tower stands 1,063ft high and remains the tallest building in Paris. It is also the most visited paid-for attraction in the world.

It was named after its designer, the engineer Gustave Eiffel, and was built as the entrance to the 1889 World’s Fair.

Upon its completion, the Eiffel Tower became the tallest building in the world – a title it held for 41 years.

The drawings are being sold at auction on September 29.

Published by the Daily Mail 5 September 2011

2010: Lingering ghosts of a long-dead England

Tyneham in Dorset was already a museum piece when it was shut down during the Second World War. It never reopened

by David Randall

There’ll be another burial in the village next week. Arthur Grant’s ashes will be interred in the churchyard at Tyneham in Dorset. He left more than 60 years ago, but now the last of him will return to the village that laid down its life for the Second World War.

In 1943, the army needed Tyneham to expand its Lulworth firing range, and so everyone was shipped out. Ever since, the only way of becoming a resident again is to die and be buried here. Arthur is believed to be the last of them. Now there is no one with any memory of this curious place which did not wither or change but simply shut its doors and went away.
Even for the time, Tyneham was a period piece, albeit an ambiguous one. For romantics, it was, in its old ways, a keepsake of a once-unchanging England. For modernists, it was, with its broken roadways, its single telephone, and the Bond family owning all the land, an affront to progress.

But, to a few hundred people, it was home. In the early decades of the 20th century, there was Mrs Manktelow, the widow at Double Cottages, the schoolmistress Mrs Pritchard, old Charlie Miller, the Knights, including Fred and his father, coachman to the Bonds at Tyneham House; Charlie Meech, the odd-job man up at the big house; and Mrs Taylor, the village wise woman.

There were two villages here, really. Down the Gwyle, the coombe that led to the sea, was Worbarrow. Then there was Tyneham proper, with its fields of sheep and its Elizabethan manor house. Closer to the green was St Mary’s church; the rectory, home to parsons grand enough to make use of the tennis courts; Dorset stone homes; the one-roomed school; and The Row, the line of terraced cottages punctuated by the village’s only shop.

By the late 1930s, there were cracks in its chocolate-box façade. The school had closed in 1932. There was no pub; Worbarrow’s coastguard station had closed; there was no electricity, no piped water and no development – unless the Bonds sanctioned it.

Then came the war. A radar station was set up on Tyneham Cap, and, to staff it, the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force arrived. They requisitioned Tyneham House, and airmen were billeted in homes. In November 1943, every villager received a letter. “It is necessary,” it began, “to move you from your homes.” By 19 December, all 225 were gone. Many were under the impression they would return, but in 1947 they were told there would be no coming back. Compensation was paid in 1952 and periodic campaigns were mounted to wrest back the village.

They failed, but concessions were made. In 1975, burials were allowed, and the army’s guns are muzzled on 134 days a year so ramblers and curious civilians can once again come to Tyneham. The manor house was demolished in 1967, and thatched roofs have fallen. But the church is preserved, and the school is a museum. In it are the clothes pegs of pupils, and one bears the name Arthur Grant. His ashes will be in the churchyard, but the memory of him, and some of the spirit of the place he once inhabited, lives on.
Published by, and copyright of, The Independent, Sunday 24 January 2010