Coordinates: 51°35′35″N 1°27′11″W / 51.593°N 1.453°W / 51.593; -1.453
Childrey is a village and civil parish about 2.5 miles (4 km) west of Wantage in the Vale of White Horse. The parish was part of the Wantage Rural District in Berkshire until the 1974 boundary changes transferred the whole of the Vale of White Horse from Berkshire to Oxfordshire.
Childrey was originally an island in a marsh, relating it to nearby villages of the Hanney, Goosey and Charney. Its toponym is derived from the Old English Cille-rīþ, meaning "spring - stream". Its spelling evolved through Celrea in the 11th century, Chilree in the 13th century and Chelrey in the 13th to 15th centuries before reaching its current form.
In the parish west of Hackpen Hill on the Berkshire Downs is a bowl barrow 90 feet (27 m) in diameter and 4 feet (1.2 m) high. In the 19th century the barrow was excavated and one cremation was found.
Before the Norman conquest of England the manor of Frethornes was held by an Anglo-Saxon freeman called Brictric. The Domesday Book records that by 1086 it was held by a Norman, Turstin Fitz Rou. The manor's name comes from the de Frethorne family, who were tenants of the manor by 1166 and remained so until 1357. In 1514 and subsequently the manor was recorded as being held of Baron FitzWarin and his heirs, who held the manor of Wantage. An annual payment of four bushels and two pecks of wheat from Frethornes to the manor of Wantage was still payable in 1771.
I have been born in the age of thoughtlessness
And I too commit the crime of living in this world
Considering all to be mine
The earth the air the sun the trees
Like a body all work in perfect harmony
Will we fit into the system or create the disease?
Our greatest wealth it has been lost
I'd like to get it back at any cost
We dare live in this world without appreciation
Appreciate it's getting late
We've sealed our fate with all the damage that has been done
So much destruction so a few can have some fun
I contemplate and I dedicate
To getting myself out of this pathetic state
Of living without giving in a world
Where we've forsed to become so numb
And despite all say I get carried away
I took for granted it's easier not to think than to appreciate
And my cultures disease has got the best of me
And now I pray that it's not too late