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‘I went to Noke and nobody spoke;
I went to Beckley, they spoke directly’.
This is an old aphorism, quite probably untrue of Noke nowadays, but certainly
true of Beckley. It is the friendliest of villages, where passers-by always
speak to each other and newcomers are gathered into the fold and made to feel at
home.
In spite of Beckley’s close proximity to Headington and Oxford, when you cross
the B4027 you enter another world. There has been a settlement at Beckley since
Roman times; the Roman road from Dorchester to Alcester cuts the village in two.
The present village is a survival from the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries with
only the original school building and a few nearby cottages representing the
Victorian era. Almost every house is in some way associated with Beckley’s
ancient past, if only because some of its building stone was originally part of
the medieval royal palace.
Between the wars many of the tiny stone and thatched farm labourers cottages
became almost derelict as farm work decreased and men took jobs in the Cowley
factories. Fortunately their potential for amalgamation and conversion into
larger homes appealed to people wishing to move out of Oxford’s growing eastern
suburbs. Equally fortunately these people wished to retain and even pinpoint the
period features of the cottages, so that even when they were practically rebuilt
they fitted in with the Beckley landscape. Where two or three cottages were
knocked into one larger house, the old door lintels can still be seen through
their frame of honeysuckle and roses. One sees with one’s physical eyes the
pleasing elegance of gracious homes; with one’s imagination one sees Beckley’s
past. Old barns, converted into homes retain their shape and character, and
there is still the odd Oxfordshire wagon shed and the old smithy, now a garage.
Cripps’ cottage, where Cripps the carrier lived, one of the oldest 16th century
converted cottages, recalls the time when carriers were Beckley’s link with
Oxford; Pound cottage recalls the adjacent enclave in which animals illegally
grazing on Otmoor were impounded.
Everywhere one walks one touches history and nowhere more so than at Beckley’s
glorious medieval church standing on its windswept knoll. Each generation,
including the present one, has left its loving mark on the church which is a
treasury of rare 14th century glass, wall paintings, a beautiful timber roof, a
tub font which could be Saxon, a very ancient door, one of the oldest church
chests in England, a Jacobean pulpit, and some very fine Victorian glass in the
chancel. Mention must also be made of the beautiful moated Beckley Park house
and the lovely Georgian Grove House, adding a touch of class to a
basically working village. I
At night it is quiet. Two solitary street lamps and the Abingdon Arms light the
wayfarer. And over all, signalling to the outside world for many miles, is
Beckley’s affirmation of 20th century status — the glowing TV mast.
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