Tatworth

Tatworth is a cheerful farm that has spent the intervening eight centuries becoming a place people drive through on the way to Chard, which is itself not a destination anybody has ever announced with pride. The village measures its own significance by an annual auction of a field, held by candlelight, and the honest thing to say is that nothing has come along since to knock it off the top spot. Two miles from a market town, close enough to the Devon border that half the residents are quietly claiming to live in Dorset, and surrounded by the kind of green that looks marvellous in June and takes forty minutes off your life every winter morning. It suits people who have finished with being near things.