TODDINGTON

Toddington Stars - Dated 1906

Front Row: Billy Horley, Reg Neale, Stan Page, Albert Osborne, Jack Smith ('Pimp')

Middle Row: Ernest Brazier, Erskine Page, Harry Randall

Back Row: Cecil Briden, Fred Ireland, Charlie Muckleston, Dick Clark, Harry Cleaver

Before the Rovers were the Toddington Stars!

As long ago as the 1890's there has been a football team in Toddington. I'm sure most of you know of Toddington Rovers F.C. and maybe some of you have even played for the team and wore the black and white striped shirt. However, did you know that prior to the formation of Toddington Rovers, the team was once known as Toddington Stars? Players with surnames that will not be unfamiliar to later players and local residents; Randall, Clark, Horley and Osborne etc. All known to have played for the 'Stars' during the late 1890's and the first decade of the 1900's. (See Image above from 1906)

I'm not certain where the team played and have only recently began to look further into the past and find out more about the team, but I do kinow it is one of only a handful of surviving original members of the Beds FA. I know many of these lads were known to have 'practiced' on the land known as 'Strangers Field' during those early years (An area between Dunstable Road and Luton Road, north of Princess Street,) and other large areas of common and open spaces including Dropshort, Kimberwell and the Glebe.

What happened to the 'Stars' and, why did the team become the 'Rovers' later during the 1950's and 1960's? It is probable that wars of the 20th century was a big reason and during both World War I and II leagues and games may have been suspended. It is clear that more than one of the young lads shown in team photo of 1906 (See photo above,) later went on and lost their lives fighting in the Great War of 1914 - 1918. Doubtless such sad and tragic loss affected the parish and took its toll on would-be team players too during WWII (1939 - 1945.) Not until the 1950's do we see a strong and dedicated team, Toddington Rovers emerge. Although support for the team waxed and waned during the 1960's and the 1970's, it during the 1980's that the Rovers started to rebuild itself and now has a various teams playing at several location around the parish. The old Toddington Stars would be proud!

Why the name changed from Stars to Rovers I'm yet to find out, maybe someone out there may know the answer? 

Related Articles: A Sporting Village |  Toddington Roll of Honour

Was there really a hamlet of Toddington that is lost to history? Did Paulinus Peyvre build his 'Palace at Wadelow'? 

For generations the mystery of the lost hamlet of Toddington in Bedfordshire has remained unsolved, and yet there is a wealth of evidence that points to a conclusion that Wadelow not only existed, but was a thriving community during the 13th and 14th centuries and that a great house was situated in a large park there. The Radulph Agas Survey Map of Toddington Manor, dated 1581 shows clearly vast tracks of land to the north-east and east of the village with visual and written references to 'Old Park' and 'Part of the Park.'

Many people accept that Toddington Manor dates back to Pre-Norman times, but many also assume that Lord Cheney built his vast manor house off Park Road over the foundations of the original house built by the Peyvre family. This I believe is doubtful and, no real evidence points to that being fact. It is more probable that Cheney's manor house (built in 1560) was sited at it's present location due to the old park being in ruin. In fact less than a century after Cheney built his palatial house off Park Road much of the land of the 'Old Park' was disparked. But such confusion is not unusual, Toddington Church it is assumed, was first built by the Peyvre family, and yet although they certainly had a hand in the present structure, it is highly likely that the site was home to at least one other structure dating back to Saxon times. Conger Hill too has been associated with Pulinus Peyvre; that it was maybe his 'seat' or stronghold. Again this is unlikely, Conger Hill existed long before Paulinus had gained his wealth and land and even more unlikely he would have had more than one manorial seat in such close proximity. Not to say that Conger Hill never had a 'castle' but simply unlikely that it was the 'seat' of Paulinus Peyvre.

Wadelow, ('wadelowes' or 'Wadeloe') almost certainly existed by 1238 as there are records which show 'building at Wadelow and Chalton.' The hamlet probably gets it's name from a family called "Wadelow" or "Wadelowe" who as early as 1200AD were a prominent family in the area, which would lead us to believe the family had been in the district for several generations, if not longer. There are numerous accounts of John de Wadelowe present in the 'Bedford Eyre' (1227) and in 1232 there is a record in the 'Dunstable Chronicle' recording a "settlement of land in Wadelowe by the Prior of Dunstable and Countess of Pembrokeshire" (Then Lady of the Manor.)

The following images give an indication of the probable location of Wadelow in 1581 and on a modern Google view. A tract of land known as Wadelow Hooke's Dole is marked not too far from Redhills farm, opposite which it is said, a moat and drawbridge existed and gave access to a long tree lined avenue leading to the Palace of Paulinus Peyvre. You will also notice the course of the River Flit, this fed the watermill that once existed at the modern site of Mill Farm and was almost certainly one of the two such mills recorded as existing in the 'Old Park.'

Image: © British Libray Board - MS38065 Part of 'I'  The blue circled area shows 'Wadelow Hooke's Dole'; this hints to Wadelow and is very close to the modern Red Hills Farm off Harlington Road. The Mill (Center, Bottom) can not been seen clearly as it is situated on the 'cut' between sections of the map, but the area gives references to the watermill in that vicinity. To the left of the image you'll notice references to Old Park etc. This park or 'Manor' once stretched from the bounds of Harlington in the north, to Fancot and at times Chalton to the south, and to Herne in the west.

Image: © Google Earth - 2012 Here again in the image above we can follow the course of the Flit that at one time fed the watermill that existed in the Old Park at Wadelow. Much has changed of course, no trace of Wadelow or Paulinus' Palace can be found today. However, many records indicate that ruins and relics from the structures and the great house where evident into the 18th and early 19th century.

What happened to Wadelow and Paulinus Peyvre's Palace?

First we have to first assume the high probability that both Wadelow existed and that Paulinus Peyvre did in fact build his Manor House in the grounds of the Old Park. I will at some later date, write an article that will follow (Where Possible) the family of the Peyvre's (Piver or Piper) which will shed more light on facts that lead to the ruin of the once great house at Wadelow. But without going into such detail, (Which at at times are confusing) in this article, I will point out the most probable reason for the decline of the house and the park which was, in large part, connected to the fact that land constantly fell into the female line of the family as the male side consistently failed. Leading of course to the land being subsequently passed to daughters who married into other wealthy families and the husbands of those female owners, having vasts estates and their 'seats' elsewhere, paid little or no attention to Toddington at certain times in it's history. It can be said that by the opening of 16th century virtually nothing of the once paltial manor and park was evident - Paulinus Peyvre's house is recorded as runious as early as the mid 15th century.

It is commonly known that throughout history, buildings and structures that fell to ruin were "used up" in other buildings locally. This no doubt, is what happened to the great house at Wadelow along with other buildings that must have existed within it's grounds. In 1808, it is recorded that land known as Wadelowes was recently purchased by J. Jennings of Harlington and was supposed to be where "considerable traces of buildings and fish ponds existed," and the site was well known to be that of a "Great House at Wadelow."

What then of the hamlet? Wadelow was in existence long before the Peyvre family owned the bulk of the land in this vicinity, so why did it dissapear along with the demise of the manor estate? We could, due to the timing of this event lay some blame on plague and disease, and no doubt there were plague victims in Wadelow as there were in Toddington and everywhere else, but I doubt this is the sole reason in this case. I think a major player in the dissapearance of Wadelow is the fact the land and property of the manor estate past through many different hands, sometimes went years without any resident, and mostly went ignored by it's owners. The people of the hamlet who had once lived in a thriving community and would have provided labour and services to the Lords and Ladies of the Manor would have found themselves wanting. No work, and arguements between the gentry over land rights and boundaries would also have effected the local people. It is probable that a slow focus towards Toddington itself with it's growing weekly market would certainly have been more rewarding for the peasant folk. Then Lord Henry Cheney locating and constructing his new manor house further west into Toddington would have put the final nail in Wadelow's coffin. This can be backed up by the fact that Herne, another hamlet of Toddington on it's north west borders, also enjoyed a large thriving community during the 13th C and 14th C, but also went into decline during the same period as Wadelow. Only Herne managed to survive, due mainly to wealthy land owners luckily choosing to continue to reside there. 

My conclusion then is that Paulinus Peyvre, once steward to King Henry III and a passionate buyer of land, although well known to the history of Toddington and given much credit for the village and it's growth, in fact put his personal wealth and labours first into a most interesting, but now lost hamlet of Toddington once known as Wadelow.   

Related Articles:  Toddington: Early History    |    The Duke & The Little Lady    |    430 Years of Change    |    Ancient Battles?    |    Conger Hill    |    more history...

This story is true; at least it remains true in the mind of the author who now shares the mystery with you. Strictly speaking this ghost can be claimed by both Toddington and Chalgrave parishes as will become apparent as the story unfolds. However, because the ‘spirit’ walks along the bounds of Toddington, I think it is fair to say that it is in fact a Toddington ghost story.

Sometime in the late 1980’s late on an late, spring evening, I parked my car on the hard surface used by the council on the Chalgrave Road, only a few meters from where the road met with Dunstable Road. At that time I had permission to shoot pigeon in the fields south of Chalgrave Road as far down as Tebworth and that night I planned to be under cover at first light with my shotgun. There was nothing unusual about the evening as it was something I had done many times in order to get the slip on my game, and I settled down with a flask of tea, lowered my seat into recline and watched the stars before falling quickly to sleep. 

The next thing I remember was waking with a start and the feeling of a deep dread and fallen over me. Overnight the temperature had dropped significantly, or so it seemed to me as I was shivering and my breath was flowing from me in cloudy wisps. I tried to look outside the car but all windows were steamed up, so raising my seat upright, I started the car and set the car heating system to defrost to clear the windshield. Slowly the windshield began to clear and I could see enough to notice there must have been a bright moon in sky because I could see clearly across the road to the outline of the hedge that ran along the north edge of Chalgrave Road and to my right, as far as All Saints Church at Chalgrave, which stood silhouetted within its skeletal barrier of budding horse chestnut trees.

It was the time just before twilight, a time when ghosts are said to be most active, but I remember having no thoughts of ghosts. I had little time for such nonsense as spirits and ghosts in those days and don’t recall having any real fear of the dark as a child. However, I remained on edge and could not shake a growing, unexplainable fear that was pressing down and enveloping me. I remember speaking aloud to myself, telling myself I was being ridiculous and whatever I was feeling was left over from a dream which I was unable to recall and that it was my imagination. Still it persisted, and although I knew it should have been growing lighter by now and the first light of dawn would soon shake away any fears, whether in my mind or not, I started to feel isolated and deeply alone as though trapped in this pre-twilight world. My conscious mind, was telling me that half hour at least had past but my senses were indicating that nothing had changed. I wore no watch and the car radio clock was broken, so I could only rely on instinct for an estimation of the passing time, and I would swear I had been awake for thirty minutes or more. Nothing was making sense as I sat in the car seat, shivering and wide eyed with fear.

It was then I saw it. At first I felt it; something inexplicable caught my attention and forced me to look to the left out of the windshield, the only window of the car that was clear of condensation. I strained my eyes, absolutely frozen in fear as my mind tried to make sense of what my eyes were seeing. A figure, a person, was it a man? Yes, it was a man, I knew that, although I couldn’t see his face clearly at first and his body was hidden behind the hedge in front of him, for some reason I just knew. The figure was walking with some urgency towards the junction of the main road and again, without any explanation I felt a deep sadness for the man and was consumed not by my own fear but by his too. The hedge he was walking behind was only twenty-five feet away but the darkness should have prevented me seeing him clearly, yet as he passed directly in front of me, and for the briefest of moments he looked directly into my eyes. His face was one of distress and dreadful apprehension and I knew instantly I was sharing this chaps fears and emotions. Again for no reason I sensed peculiarities about this fellow, the way he wore his beard, his hat, which I couldn’t really see clearly but knew didn’t belong in the 1980’s.

I was terrified and felt myself freeze, and was pressing my body into the back of the seat, maybe hoping I could distance myself from the specter in front of me by doing so. As the man looked away I felt him pleading to me, but I could not understand that fear, I tried to block it out and close my eyes, but my eyes refused to close. My body was rigid and all that moved in my entire body at that moment were my eyes, and as he turned away they moved to follow him as he continued on his ghostly journey towards Chalgrave Church. I watched him march onwards until I was certain he disappeared into the night, but still I remained frozen in my seat and my eyes straining to my right as the light of morning finally broke through the night and twilight fell upon the fields.

How long had I sat there? It seemed like hours and it took a long time for me to find the courage to reach behind for my shotgun that lay on the back seat of the car. I laid the gun across my lap and loaded the double barrels, but I was still unable to shake the dreadful feeling and  find the courage to open the car door and look outside. So I waited until the first rays of the sun appeared around the sides of the old church and my fears subsided enough for me to step out of the car. Immediately I was struck by how warm it actually was. There was no hint of a frost and although the air was cool, I couldn’t explain the fact that just minutes before I was certain the temperature outside was well below freezing and I expected a heavy frost on the shoot. But apart from a low fog that lay over the old Kimberwell Common I had a clear view across the road up to Dropshort and beyond into Toddington and as far as Lords Hill behind me.

The fact dawn was coming fast brightened my spirits and the dreadful feelings that had plagued me began to diminish and I started to focus my mind on what had occurred just minutes before. A slight apprehension still held me, so I walked slowly across the road towards the hedge that the apparition I had seen minutes before had walked along. The hedge was a mixture of hawthorn, privet and hazel and at that time stood approximately five feet tall. To the left, a little towards Tebworth there was a gap in the hedge that I knew I could use to get behind the hedge. I needed to get behind and look for evidence of what I now began to tell myself was a ghost. Telling myself is not really accurate, I was arguing with myself, not wanting to believe in the vision, but not being able to explain it away.

Eventually I got through the hedge and immediately realized with a sudden shock that an uneven ditch lay immediately beyond the hedgerow. This was not a deep ditch, but had significant depth to cause me to stare at it with open mouth, the old fear creeping back into my soul as I did so. The fact the ditch was there convinced me that what I saw could not have been a real person, not unless he was at least eight or nine feet tall. Also when I watched the man walking along this path I recalled he had little or no hindrance in his steps, which he would have been experiencing if walking at that speed along this ditch. I now knew that what I saw was impossible, - at least impossible to my skeptical mind. I could find no footprints or any other evidence of anything being along that path recently. I didn’t even find animal tracks. The ground was soft after recent rain and so, if a man had walked that path I would surely have found tracks, but I found nothing to indicate any physical presence at all.

Finally, I walked back to the car and poured myself a brew from my flask. The sun was rising quickly and I knew I should have already been sat in a hide, so I prepared myself for a mornings shooting. Still thinking hard on my experience I tried to block it out, but for days- no weeks afterwards, the vision stayed vivid in my memory.

I recall mentioning this tale to a few of my friends and my family at the time, but they never really took it seriously, and I suppose I never really expected anyone to. God knows I couldn’t explain what I saw any more than anybody else could, and there was always that creeping feeling of doubt that existed whenever I remembered that night. I had lived in Toddington all my life, and as far as I was aware, didn’t know of anyone else who had any similar experiences on that road. In fact the only other ghostly connection I knew of at that time was that of a cousin who claimed to have seen a ghost at a door at Chalgrave Church a few years earlier. That story I never really took seriously, and as such I could not even recall the slightest details of that particular ghost story.

Years past, and the mystery fell into the back of my mind. I had not forgotten, indeed I never will forget what I ‘believe’ I saw on that long ago spring dawn, and as they passed I lost interest in shooting game and found my interest in local history deepening. I spent a lot of time researching Toddington’s history and in doing so I often visited Toddington  Library where I could find books with interesting passages relating to the village’s past. Maybe, I subconsciously hoped to find a clue to the mystery of Chalgrave Road, but alas, I never found anything written that could shed light on the tale. However, on one such visit to the library I found myself in conversation with two elderly chaps of the village, the names of which sadly I have forgotten. I recall I was asking them questions about Toddington during the 2^nd World War and they were keen to talk to me about their experiences. It was during the conversation that I told these fellows of my experiences near Chalgrave Church, although I have no recollection of how or why the subject came up. I remember feeling slightly embarrassed while telling my tale to the old chaps and thought they would feel I was a freak, but to my surprise one of the old men gave me a story in return that has captivated me ever since.

The man claimed that as a child he had lived in a property in Tebworth and that his father had once told him and his sibling’s local stories on cold winter nights. He said he had forgotten most of them but that my story has reminded him of one in particular and began to tell his tale about a family who once lived in some cottages that once existed along what we now know as Chalgrave Road. The father the old man believed, was a merchant of some kind, and was a much respected fellow locally, and apparently a loving father of three young daughters, two of which in recent years died of disease along with his young wife, and the gentleman was said to be profoundly saddened by that fact. One day he needed to go into Dunstable on business, a trip he knew would not bring home until late that evening. He told his last surviving daughter to wait for daylight then walk to her aunt’s cottage that lay near the Great Wood, close to the present Lord’s Hill. He left before dawn but instructed her to remain at her aunts until he returned from his trip to collect her later that evening. (It was in those days not unusual for children to take such trips in the daytime and the gentleman left the cottage early that morning without any unusual cause for concern. )

The old man could not recall much detail of this old tale, but told me that the same evening the gentleman arrived at his sister’s home to collect his young daughter. He was shocked to learn that the child had never arrived at her aunts and when he desperately enquired at the homes of the neighbor’s but the girl had not been seen by anyone that day. Desperately the man searched for his lost child, following the path back to his cottage that she would have taken to reach her aunts, but when he got to his home he found it empty. He continued his search into the night, his neighbours and friends pleading with him to wait until morning so they could all help in a thorough search. But he would not be persuaded and he was heard all night walking the path between his home along Chalgrave Road to the cottage of his sister near Great Wood. Early the following morning, just before dawn he was met on the Chalgrave Road, near to the Dunstable Road junction by the Toddington church wardens. He was informed that a traveler had road into Toddington the previous morning with a young child, a girl who he had accidently ran down with his horse as he approached Chalgrave Crossroads. He didn’t know who the child was or where she lived, but had a friend who was staying at the Sow & Pigs Inn in Toddington and so went there for help. The ladies present at the inn tried to save the child but sadly she died soon after of her injuries and it wasn’t until a maid, who lived close to the girl’s home recognized the child, that her identity became clear. During that day people came to the gentleman’s home to break the tragic news, but found the cottage empty each time, not realising the gentleman was on a trip to Dunstable. It was not until news of the man’s frantic search the same night that the churchwardens understood the whole picture. On giving the gentleman the news of his daughter’s death, the churchwardens claimed the man was inconsolable and sat mumbling into his hands for hours refusing to move from the crossroads where his daughter was killed the day before. It is said that for weeks following his daughter’s death the gentleman was heard and seen, walking that lonely path in search of his last daughter.

I asked the old chap who was telling me this tale if he knew of a name or any other clue that may identify anyone involved. Sadly he confessed that he couldn’t recall any names or even a rough date, but only that the story ends with the fact the father disappeared less than two months after his daughter’s death. He was last seen walking the stretch of path to which I referred to in my own tale and entering the grounds of All Saints Church, apparently where his daughter was buried. He was never seen or heard of again. Some say he died of a broken heart and the churchwardens buried him alongside his daughters and wife. Others claimed he went mad and hung himself from a tree in the grounds of Chalgrave Manor, others would say he simply returned to his family and place of birth in the north. Whatever happened, I have found no record of these events anywhere during my research into Toddington’s past, but that doesn’t mean it did not happen.

I have found evidence that there were cottages and other structures that stood at various locations on the Chalgrave Road and at various times in history, though little physical evidence, if any, of them exist today, but exist they did, (See 1947 image above which shows part of the Chalgrave Road, or 'Tebworth Road'. Other properties existed along the whole length of the road in the past.) Also, Chalgrave Church graveyard was possibly larger than it is today, and it is also possible that large, mass graves for plague victims were located elsewhere, now lost to history. I also know that disease and plagues had a terrible effect on the population of the district and Chalgrave parish was particularly hard hit. It is very possible that people in the vicinity died at such speed and that the victims would have included priest, churchwardens etc., that entire families may have been wiped out and their deaths never even recorded. The tale’s reference to the Sow & Pigs should also not be ignored. The old inn was for centuries a well-known meeting place and ‘community center’ and it is not unlikely at all that a traveler would be heading there as well as believing it to be the best place for assistance. If you could imagine a district consumed by plague and that Tebworth and Chalgrave to be particularly devastated, it is not hard to imagine that a traveler, involved in such a tragic turn of events to understand that Toddington was the only place to find the help needed for the child.

So whether my story or, that of the old man in the library are connected, and whether or not they are both completely imaginary, you have to admit they are intriguing. Did I see that gentleman father , who so long ago walked that path in a frantic search for his missing daughter, was it HIS fear and dread that I myself was experiencing as I sat in my car that morning? I can’t help thinking it was just that, that somehow, the timing was right and for a short moment in time I shared that man’s fears for his daughter’s life.

Something we are all familiar with but I imagine hardly spare a thought about, those unsung landmarks in the village, the post boxes.

Spread throughout the village, some of these boxes have stood silent for generations, collecting and keeping safe our postal mail at the start of their journey through the postal system and beyond. Of course the boxes are not unique to Toddington, but they are I think, worthy of a mention on the website. A pictorial record if nothing else.

 Images by: Catherine Bianco