Health & Family

Blagdon calling –what a welcome!

“IF you move to Blagdon, I’ll give you 24 hours before you post a picture of the lake on social media and a year before it’s on your Christmas Card.” So said my friend and former Blagdon resident Paul, and so far he's half right. The lake (ok, reservoir) is stunning in all lights and weathers.

Glorious clouds, wisps of fog hovering above the water and even half-frozen. But man cannot live on views alone, we’re social animals by nature and if you move somewhere new but never meet anyone, it can’t be much fun.

No chance of that in Blagdon. On day one, our neighbours surprised us with a glorious bare-buttocked welcome card. Another opened her window and invited us to drinks. Others came round to introduce themselves and offer help. Then more drinks.

There’s even a neighbours’ WhatsApp group for parties and problems. The only pub currently serving beer, the New Inn, is run by the fabulous Lizzie. She does excellent banter, good pub food, the carols and New Year’s Eve nights were sell-outs and there’s a quiz, a book group and a Valentine’s Steak Night if you fancy it.

Friday nights are well attended. The view of the lake is also well worth a photo (sorry Paul).

The Village Club is equally welcoming, with (so far) world cup matches, sour dough pizza night, a film afternoon and a Wassail gathering (see below). It’s also the perfect pitstop on the way to pick up an (excellent) curry at the Queen Adelaide. The locals tell me of days of village fairs spread over several fields, all night pub lockins, a “five and drive” culture (not recommended) and even a Blagdon Ball at Coombe Lodge. There may be less on offer now in these days of Netflix but there’s still plenty of village life out there that needs support.

By DrPHIL HAMMOND

There’s a butchers, a village shop and post office, a coffee shop, two churches, get-fit classes at Yeo Valley, pop-up art and perhaps even a reopening of the Seymour Arms to look forward to. And splendid dog walks.

But today was wassailing. I’ve not done it before and any inaccuracies may be on account of the mulled cider. We started at the Village Club and walked to the village orchard (owned by the village, pick your own fruit and a handy tree guide, with many dedicated to the memory of someone).

The woman who picks the fruit glace sweet out of the jar of mint glaces is the Wassail Queen, so she soaks a piece of toast in mulled cider and places it in an apple tree for the spirits to feast on, then spreads cider around the trunk before Roger, the gentleman farmer, shoots safely up into the tree while we all recite: “Here’s to the old apple tree Long may you bud, long may you blow And may you bear apples enou’ Hats full, caps full, bushel, bushel bags full And my pockets full too Hurrah, Hurrah, Hurrah!”