Tall tales and true: of Yorkshire moors and the byways of Surrey: Not where the simple folk live

We drive every day around the area. It is not really a place where simple folk live, around here. The roads are thick with expensive vehicles, restaurant prices are out of reach for most commoners, the countryside is loaded with landed gentry who build high fences around their expansive perimeters, while celebrities, great and small, live in houses that occupy acreage, protected by heavy security. Many is the set of elaborate gates that adorn a driveway in the region. Some gilded, even. We drive our Mercedes through the lush narrow back lanes trying to avoid the insane traffic, taking special care with our large wide vehicle body so as not to swipe a Lotus, a Lexus, or a Prince-in-waiting. The countryside is gorgeous, most of it designated as an area of outstanding natural beauty. It is up hill, down dale, dotted with tiny villages of ancient origin, each with a low-ceilinged pub, sublimely decorated to welcome the affluent locals.

One village pub, we discovered when sat down for lunch yesterday, had been the movie set for Cameron Diaz and crew, in The Holiday. So, some pubs are pretty enough to be set designs. One, we visited the day before, was in the village, Ewhurst, where half the musicians we grew up following, now live: Eric Clapton, along with band members of The Who, Genesis, Procol Harum and many others, are all within a couple of miles of each other, around here. Close to London, but not too close. Their estates are massive, enclosed, private. We figured there had to be a studio close by, and later discovered that was so, though you would never see anything looking so commercial. It would be tucked away somewhere, looking somewhat like an ancient artifact, as most everything does around these villages. Characterful.

Everything feels ancient, too. Many of the villages have roots that go back to Saxon days. One, Gomshall, is listed in the Domesday book as having a mill and yearly assets of £30, held by William the Conqueror. Once corn farmers, stone millers, leather tanners, and water cress growers lived around it. Today, that mill site is occupied by an picturesque village inn that itself is old. Opposite the old inn is a vast house on a vast estate. So, things do change. The history is so dense that any one place can occupy us for hours and hours. Yesterday at Shere we could barely move on, as it was all so interesting. The beautiful church still had a treasured Norman doorway, over a brilliantly studded wooden door. Of particular interest was a Crusader chest from about 1200AD. We had never seen one before. These were put into many churches by Pope Innocent, intending for the collections to pay for the work of the Crusades.

On the north wall of the church was a quatrefoil and squint hole, all that remains of the cell that a local villager, Christine Carpenter lived in. She had herself completely enclosed there by the bishop, in 1329. She was an anchorite. She was fed by family, friends and kind parishioners through the quatrefoil. She could observe mass through the squint hole. Many anchorites in the Middle Ages spent their time in complete seclusion and prayer. Others lived similarly, but became less secluded, and more like the village post mistress and sometimes the main source of gossip and advice, given that they could see all and hear all most days, so their roles tended to be varied and quite individual. Christine asked to be released after 3 years, but, some time later, at her own request, she was again enclosed. The reasons for her changes of mind are not known.

Shere is a quaint town with so many historic buildings of such character that it is considered one of the most beautiful villages in all of England. Keeping it beautiful, in 1886, two maiden sisters, the Misses Spottiswoode, donated a water well to their beloved village, an alternative to the evil drink, ale. They had it installed opposite the pub, their feelings about alcohol consumption made very clear.