Harking back to our second training walk, we headed towards Mulbarton and the village’s only remaining medieval building is the church. The Concise Oxford Dictionary comments on the origins of the village name:
Mulbarton, Norfolk. Molkebertuna in Saxon period, Molkebertestuna in Domesday Book, Mulkebertun in 1250. Comes from Meolc-beretun, meaning outlying dairy farm.
According to the same dictionary, the ‘eo’ often became ‘o’ or ‘u’ because they sounded similar. The ‘molke’ section is milk, similar to the current Dutch word and derived from the German ‘milch’.
Sad to hear that Coast to Coast, located to the left of TGI Fridays in the above photo, is closing permanently in Norwich. They bemused me, they were becoming popular locally and their reviews were positive. But they were for months deluging out offers whereby anyone who had a Tastecard, Gourmet Society card or voucher could get 50% off of food. If you were a diner who went in without those cards, you were getting charged twice the amount of everyone else and I’m not sure how that could ever end well.
They can run their restaurant how they wanted, but why they devalued their product so much never quite made sense to me. Anyway, I hope the space is used for a large Greggs, constantly good value without gimmicks.
As part of a tour of Bath Abbey, there’s the chance to see the inside of the clock. There are two small benches so people can sit by the clock for a few minutes, although the guide gave several warnings to not touch anything connected to the clock, which seemed sensible advice.
Located on the north side of the building, the abbey’s clock, which belongs to the people of Bath, was moved here in 1834 after being lowered from a previous position when the structure of the tower looked a bit unstable. It was originally once backlit by gas to ensure that it was visible at night, but electricity has made that much easier.
The advent of the railways brought problems to time-keeping in UK cities, as they often had slightly different times and this was problematic when trying to run a railway. Before the railways, no-one much minded if Bristol and Bath were running at different times by five-minutes, but what became known as ‘railway time’ required some standardisation. Bath did this by in 1845 installing a band of metal on the clock which would show railway time. Scaffolding was put up to ensure this addition could be made, although I wonder why Bath didn’t just keep railway time to keep things simple.
The clock looks relatively small in the above photo, but that’s deceptive, and in 1926, the Bath Chronicle wrote about a refurbishment of the clock. They noted:
“The diamond-shaped aperture in the face of the clock is due to having been removed in order that the hands might be disconnected. From the ground it does not look more than big enough for more than a fist to emerge, but that is deceptive as George Willis [the man in charge of the project] was able to project his head and shoulders through the opening. The minute hand is 3 feet long, and the hour hand 1 foot 10 inches in length. They revolve on a face having a diameter of 6 feet”.
Although now hidden away in the middle of Broadland Business Park near Thorpe, this cemetery was once in a quiet and remote area near to St. Andrew’s Hospital. The hospital itself was opened in 1814, when known as Norfolk County Asylum, and it remained in use as a mental health hospital until 1998.
This area was used as a graveyard from 1859 until 1966, replacing another site that had been used for burials between 1814 and 1859. This original site had been a little erratic, with burials inside the confines of the main hospital buildings and all of the burial records from that time have been lost.
The trees give the area some solitude and there’s paving which winds to the memorial stone in the centre of the site.
The memorial, which is also in remembrance of the Polish Community, many of who came to the building during the Second World War when it was used as a military hospital. There are three Poles buried here, who are remembered with memorial stones. There was once a small memorial chapel on this site, although it has long since been demolished.
The text on the memorial, with over 1,400 people thought to have been buried here when it was a mental health institution. Tragically, the hospital board made a disgraceful decision in 1968, against advice, to flog off for scrap all of the metal discs which marked where the burials were located, including the three Poles. There are burial records and a map, so anyone could work out approximately where each burial is located, but unfortunately, nothing is now marked.
The Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue was first published at the end of the eighteenth century, and given that the Coronavirus crisis is giving too much time to read books, I thought I’d pick a daily word from it until I got bored…..
Cloak Twitchers
There’s a sense of vibrancy to this phrase, defined in the dictionary as “rogues who lurk about the entrances into dark alleys, and bye-lanes, to snatch cloaks from the shoulders of passengers”. They were listed as 33rd in the “order of villains”, which was a list of how criminals were respected within the canting community and the phrase dates from at least the late seventeenth century. The word twitcher is probably best used to describe bird-watchers now, but it was originally defined as “to give a sharp tug”. I can imagine this being a profitable exercise in the dimly lit and narrow streets that once existed in many towns and cities across the country.
For anyone interested in linguistics and the evolution of language, Simon Roper is producing some detailed and accessible videos. Their production quality is perhaps as basic as can be, which absolutely adds to the whole thing, he’s got a very informal style. If they ever brought something like Time Team back, he should present it.
At least for me, yesterday was the chance to go on a small group walk for the first time since March. All socially distanced, just a small group of under the maximum allowed and all professionally-led (since I wasn’t leading it).
An intriguing tree…..
The walk went around Thorpe marshes at first, which is where most of the photos below are from. I’ve neglected walking this area as I had forgotten about it, which isn’t much of an excuse, but it was peaceful and I’m not sure many people are aware of the walking options around there.
There’s a photo of a deer drinking on the other side of the river, which I hoped was a Chinese water deer given there are lots around there, which were introduced from China in the nineteenth century. I’ve been told it’s a Muntjac though, but nonetheless, it still looked sweet and innocent.
Just photos, of my walk down the hill from Bath University into the city centre a few years ago. There’s a peacefulness that is surprising from being so close to the centre of a city and fortunately, Bath has retained a large amount of greenery around it, without urban sprawl destroying its tranquility.
The National Trust sign at the entrance to the walk at Smallcombe, which is all part of the Bath Skyline Walk.
I liked the whole concept of the community nuttery.
The Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue was first published at the end of the eighteenth century, and given that the Coronavirus crisis is giving too much time to read books, I thought I’d pick a daily word from it until I got bored…..
Cleymes
There’s not much to be written about this word, which is defined as “artificial sores, made by beggars to excite charity”, although it’s of note perhaps that this practice has been going on for hundreds of years. The word origins are unknown, one dictionary says that it’s a London slang for ‘claim’, as in to make a claim on someone’s pity. The word was used between at least the mid-sixteenth and early-nineteenth centuries and a similar phrase used during the same period was “sham sores”.
Since I’ve been merrily writing about the name origins of numerous villages around Norfolk, it perhaps makes sense to mention the county’s major city. No, not Dereham, it’s Norwich.
The Concise Oxford Dictionary comments on the origins:
Norwich, Norfolk. Norowic in 930, Noruic in Domesday Book. North Town.
This is one of the book’s shorter definitions and Norvic is still used today, not least by the Bishop of Norwich who signs off with this title. The explanation, as the book says, is simple, it just means North Town, so that makes this blog post nice and easy….. The Saxon ‘wich’ meaning settlement or town is relatively frequently seen, including at Ipswich, Harwich, Greenwich and so on.
