Full Tilt To Dilton Marsh.

It was Saturday morning and the wind and rain of the last few days had abated. I decided it was high time I got some exercise and went for a bike ride, so I pumped up my tyres and off I went. I headed up the Warminster road which I did not enjoy because of the busy traffic and stink of fumes. Also, it was mainly uphill which I do not like. I hate the pain in my leg muscles when the lactic acid kicks in. I was glad to turn off the main road onto the road to Old Dilton. Suddenly I was in the beautiful countryside cycling along a pleasant lane. “This is more like it”, I thought to myself. After a while I reached the church of St Mary and stopped to have a look.

St Mary's Church, Old Dilton.

It is a charming little 14^th century church which is no longer used for regular services but is conserved by the Churches Conservation Trust. The interior is said to be perfectly preserved and of great architectural interest. On the door of the porch I saw a notice which said that if you want to have a look inside you can borrow the key from a nearby house. I considered doing that, but in the end, I just took a couple of photos and cycled on.

My next port of call was the railway station at Dilton Marsh. I wanted to see this because it is immortalised in a poem called Dilton Marsh Halt by one of Britain’s greatest poets of the 20^th century John Betjeman. I love that poem, not least because it mentions Westbury in it. A friend had told me that there was a notice board on the platform with the poem on it, but I could not find it. I have put the poem at the end of this story if you want to read it. How a railway station in a tiny place like Dilton Marsh has survived is beyond my understanding, but long may it continue.

Dilton Marsh Halt.

Then I headed on towards Brokerswood. At a crossroads I came across the tiny tin church. This is a remarkably interesting little building because of its history. When the church at Southwick burned down about 120 years ago the congregation bought a temporary prefabricated tin church which they used while a new church was being built. When that was completed the tin church was dismantled and reassembled at the crossroads. A couple of services are held there every year and I think it is looked after by volunteers, which is very good of them.

Tin Church at Brokerswood.

I was getting tired by now. “That will do for today”, I thought to myself. I am 68 after all. I had one last nice little encounter on my way home. I spotted some goats looking at me from a field and stopped to take a photo. They are called Golden Guernsey’s. I know this because I got chatting with the owners. They really are nice looking goats as you can see in the photo. That made a pleasant end to my little expedition and I was glad I made the effort to get out and about on this nice Saturday morning.

Golden Guernsey Goats.

Dilton Marsh Halt by John Betjeman.

Was it worth keeping the Halt open,

We thought as we looked at the sky

Red through the spread of the cedar-tree,

With the evening train gone by?

Yes, we said, for in summer the anglers use it,

Two and sometimes three

Will bring their catches of rods and poles and perches

To Westbury, home for tea.

There isn't a porter. The platform is made of sleepers.

The guard of the last train puts out the light

And high over lorries and cattle the Halt unwinking

Waits through the Wiltshire night.

O housewife safe in the comprehensive churning

Of the Warminster launderette!

O husband down at the depot with car in car-park!

The Halt is waiting yet.

And when all the horrible roads are finally done for,

And there's no more petrol left in the world to burn,

Here to the Halt from Salisbury and from Bristol

Steam trains will return.