Built in the 1980s on the western side of Milton Keynes, Great Holm is a quiet, residential grid square with curving streets, mature trees, and a sense of calm that masks its youth. The name hints at older roots — “holm” meaning an island in the marsh — and there are still places here where the land rises slightly, giving long views across the valley towards the city centre.
There’s the mysterious brick obelisk at the edge of the local park, built without a plaque or explanation. Lodge Lake sits at the edge of the North Loughton Linear Park, and can be eerily atmospheric in the mist. The winding paths out into the pine trees certainly feel like they ought to be leading—somewhere. It’s the kind of place that feels ordinary until it doesn’t.
I know Great Holm very well. A long time ago, I got engaged at the Kam Tong restaurant, overlooking the lake. It’s on my route into the City Centre and to the Open University, and I often take a walk around Lodge Lake so I walk there a couple of times every week. In the pre-dawn light or when dusk is falling, it’s certainly atmospheric.
Our stories from Great Holm begin with a memory from the mid-1980s — a newly built estate, two sisters exploring the quiet playground opposite the obelisk… and a group of children who weren’t quite what they seemed.
Stories from Great Holm
Nina was just nine years old when she had her brush with the unexplained, in a children’s playground here in Great Holm. Her family had just moved in, and she went out with her sister to play, hoping to make friends. But the children she met on the playground were dressed for another century — and vanished before her eyes. You can read Nina’s story here.
If you have a story of your own to share, I’d really love to hear it.