The Invasions Of Castle Combe

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31113, 16 July 1966, Page 5

The Invasions Of Castle Combe

(By

JAMES HOLLOWAY

' in the "Sydney Morning Herald.")

lAOES the picture below seem familiar? It could be since it has long been featured on one of those “Come to Britain” posters which help brighten tourist offices all over the world.

And for a very good reason it is a view of Castle Combe, the Wiltshire village which, a few years ago, was voted the prettiest village in Britain in a nationwide poll organised by the British Travel Association.

Castle Combe received a lot of publicity as a result —not altogether welcomed by its inhabitants as they watched with mixed feelings the hordes of tourists and cars descending on their hitherto sleepy little village. And now once again Castle Combe is in the news, for a second invasion has started which is likely to bring the village even wider fame and—for the next two months at least —not a little confusion. The invaders indeed have already arrived, and they are not just paying an afternoon visit; they have taken over the whole village. Castle Combe has been chosen by 20th Century-Fox as the location for the film "Doctor Dottille,” to be made in eight to 10 weeks, depending on the English weather.

Rex Harrison has the starring role of the whimsical animal doctor who speaks the animals' language in the £5 million plus “musical spectacular.” A menagerie of animals—some imported from Hollywood—is encamped on a nearby farm, ranging from elephants, giraffes and a rhinoceros (“with toothache”) to performing dogs, cats, skunks and a cow which lifts her right leg when you say "Good morning.” Already the familiar picture has been altered, too. for the green banks of the stream near the bridge have been replaced by brick “harbour” walls. The telephone poles have come down and with an imitation cobblestone surface being laid on the village street Castle Combe Is being dragged, if not screaming, then not without some protest, back into the nineteenth century.

It has been converted, in fact, into the Victorian fishing village of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh and a section of the inhabitants is rather worried about the transformation, though they have been assured that all will be as before —or nearly as before.

' What has Castle Combe got that other beautiful English villages lack? First, its setting. It lies in a valley a few miles oft the A 420 road running westward from Chippenham to Bristol. Bath, that lovely West Country spa, is not for away. Hidden amidst the green folds of the Wiltshire Downs, Castle Combe has so far successfully resisted the commercialism which soon invests the “showplace.” There are no billboards, advertisements, street-lighting or car-park. Even the tetepbone kiosk is painted grey instead of red so as not to disturb the harmony of the lichen-dad roofs, golden-grey stone walls mellowed by age, and the green of the gardens and hillside.

For years—long before It topped the beauty poll— Castle Combe has been a magnet for tourists. And not only for tourists, either, for many people living in neigh-

bouring towns have tried to settle in this compact little Eden.

Fortunately, enclosed by the hills, there is no room to expand. So any of the cottages which do come up for sale change hands at prices which would have made their humble builders gasp. What is there to see at Castle Combe? Little—yet everything that goes to make the typical English picture postcard village. The focal point is the 13th century church, largely rebuilt in the last century, but still retaining much that is old. In it lies Walter de Dunstanville, whose family built the castle which gave Combe its name.

Since 1270 this early squire , of the village has rested here. Of bis castle ail that can be seen today are the grassy remains of two great moats, the ruins of a dark dungeon, and : a green arena where medieval knights once jousted. The

stones of the castle went to build the village. In the shade of the church tower is the Market Cross, its sugaribaf roof supported by four stone columns, one at each comer.

There is the Manor House Hotel, once the Manor House (where you may stay if you are lucky), two pubs (The White Hart and the Castle Inn) and the cottages of Cotswold stone on whose mellow, uneven roofs one notes a modem intrduer which will not be denied—the television aerial.

Finally there is the chuckling trout stream crossed by that ancient bridge with ts three simple arches. And all this to the cottages and the green backdrop of the hills, and you have the picture of Britain’s prettiest village. That’s the picture that the 400 inhabitants of Castle Combe want to keep, and it is no wonder that they did not all react with joyful cries when the Hollywood barons

graciously announced that there village had been chosen for another star part.

For Castle Combe, even after the film-makers with their animals, ships and props have departed, will never look quite the same as it does in toe picture. That “harbour” wall, the cause of most of the discussion, will remain. But another change will surely be welcomed by all: those television aerials which sprouted unharmoniously above toe rustic roofs are gone, never to return. The film company’s gift of one tall communal aerial high on the hill has replaced them, and television is now “piped” to the cottages. Meanwhile there’s going to be financial compensation, liberal spending, jobs as extras for toe children and work for some of their parents. One wonders what old Walter de Dunstanville would have thought of it all. “Pud-dleby-oji-the-Marsh” indeed!