Queen Mary Reservoir changed more than the skyline. Beneath its footprint was an older inhabited landscape. Historic England's record for Astleham Manor Cottage describes Astlam—another spelling of Astleham—as a village covered when the reservoir was built. This was land taken into a planned water-supply scheme, with buildings cleared or moved before the reservoir filled.
The effects reached neighbouring Littleton too. Local historian Nick Pollard describes how changes to the reservoir design removed a substantial part of old Littleton and much of its green. A road from Squire's Bridge towards Ashford Common was diverted to become New Road, where replacement houses accommodated displaced villagers. That is different from saying every house was moved intact: new housing and the rescue of an individual old building were separate responses to the upheaval.
Astleham Manor Cottage offers a remarkable surviving connection. Chiltern Open Air Museum traces its origins to a sixteenth-century timber-framed hall house, later enlarged and altered. In 1913, owner Sir Richard Burbridge had it dismantled and rebuilt roughly a quarter of a mile south to make way for the reservoir. Historic England also records the reuse of original materials.
The museum identifies Mr Ferris, Burbridge's gamekeeper, as an early resident after the move; his family remained associated with the cottage for decades. In the 1990s, after vacancy and vandalism, nearby gravel extraction threatened it again. It was rescued for a second time and re-erected at Chiltern Open Air Museum, where the museum's office moved in during 1998. The building is used for staff and volunteer facilities rather than as an ordinary open-to-visit cottage.
A little local folklore: the bell beneath the water
According to a local tale, a bell from the lost village church can still be heard when strong winds sweep across Queen Mary Reservoir—or even glimpsed when the water is low. It is a wonderfully eerie image: perhaps the reservoir has its very own ghost story!
For clarity, this is folklore. There is no reliable historical evidence for a church bell surviving beneath Queen Mary Reservoir, or for one becoming visible or audible in these conditions. Local historian Nick Pollard’s account of the reservoir’s construction describes the site being cleared before work proceeded. We include the tale for its local colour and amusement; it should not be read as a factual account of what lies beneath the water.
For Charlton Village and its neighbours, this story gives the reservoir a human scale: homes, familiar routes and working lives changed to supply water to a growing London. A surviving cottage lets part of that lost landscape remain tangible today.