Return to Oddthorpe

A few months ago I wrote about a small village in the middle of nowhere that I’ve happened to walk through on several occasions. It’s called Obthorpe, and the strange part about it is that despite the many houses, cars, and usual signs of life, it seems to have nobody living within it. Stranger than that, it seems to exist within its own bubble that birdsong and extraneous noises cannot penetrate. Seriously, it’s a weird old place.

My uninformed assumptions are that it is either a government experiment or the lair of a supervillain. Deep underground there is a base of operations where scientific bods in white coats are working earnestly at complicated machines whilst others monitor maps of the world. The village above is just a cover for the deep machinations beneath the idyllic Lincolnshire countryside.

So, just a few weeks ago I decided to walk that away again upon my usual route towards Stamford. It was a wild, wet and windy day but I was covered from head to toe in waterproofs with my cap on and hood over the top. The even terrain exposed me to the elements as the rain and gales lashed at me as I headed towards Obthorpe. I kept my head dopwn as I trudged ever onwards.

As I’d been staring intently at the ground I hadn’t initially realised that I had entered the boundaries of Obthorpe. In fact the first time I noticed was when it occurred to me that the rain had suddenly stopped and the wind had abated. I removed my hood, glad to have some respite from the inclement conditions.

As I passed through the village I chuckled to myself. As ever, there were signs that people lived in Obthorpe, such as lights on, a window half open, a car in the drive, but no people.  My own internal monologue was challenging me to look hard to see if I could see anyone behind those windows, but my natural good manners prevented me from staring.

Two-thirds of the way through the single tracked lane that runs through the village I was startled from my private reverie when, out of nowhere, I saw two people walking towards me, a man and a woman, both walking large dogs on leads.

At last, I thought, residents of Obthorpe. There had to be some in this mysterious location and there they were at last, albeit I didn’t see which house they had come from. They walked purposefully down the middle of the lane, the hounds straining at the leash. As we passed the man made eye contact, smiled and said “good morning” but the woman didn’t. She eyed me up and down suspiciously as if I’d just climbed out the back of a lorry in Dover.

I responded in a polite manner and continued walking. Delighted that I had finally bust the myth of Obthorpe I began to exit the village, but not before looking around behind me to see where the dog walkers were headed. They were nowhere to be seen. I stopped in my tracks and surveyed the flat landscape around me but there was absolutely no-one there. They had vanished as swiftly as they’d appeared.

I was briefly tempted to retrace my steps in an attempt to convince myself that I wasn’t going mad, but then I remembered my theories of this place. What if this really was a villain’s lair? What if they weren’t just casual residents walking their (large and ferocious) dogs around the village, but in fact, they were guards, just checking me out to see if I’m an innocent passer-by or someone they may have to assassinate on the spot? Maybe this was a warning – 'Stay away and stop writing about us on your ridiculous blog. Stick to whinging about your various ailments instead'.

I hurried on and just as I exited past the village sign a gust of wind almost knocked me sideways and the rain resumed its aggressive downpour as if someone had just switched a tap on. Obthorpe’s peculiar local climate strikes again.

So, my advice to you is this. Don’t get curious. Don’t visit Obthorpe. If you value your life then stay away from a village that is odder than anything you’ve ever encountered or read about before.

Tell no-one about it, it’s our secret. Because, I tell you what, I think they just might be on to us, and I for one don’t want to be strapped to a missile and shot towards the moon.

There’s nothing to see in Obthorpe. Keep out.