There’s good news about the missing parish boundary marker which was located on Princes House and it seems that the building, and indeed the marker, is now in very good hands. Further information about this parish is at https://www.julianwhite.uk/norwich-history-by-parish-st-george-tombland/.
Andy from Princes House messaged me to say:
“The original design for Princes House from the early seventies was not the moribund architecture which you see now. The hard economic times saw the design diluted and we have played our part to add some interest and curiosity to our side of Princes Street.
You will be pleased to know that we are creating some art which will feature the Hungate St. Peter parish boundary marker which we have had professionally cleaned to remove the paint and cement splatter from it, while retaining its patina. We will describe the relevance of 1834 and the Poor Law Amendment Act and the historical boundaries referenced by the parish boundary marker. Along with this we plan on celebrating pictorially the local churches, those that are still with us and those that are not. It is our intention to have this up and displayed this spring.”
I think I might lead another walk when the work is completed.
In a move that serves as a definitive warning against leaving the room during a committee meeting, I have somehow managed to get myself appointed as the captain of the Artichoke Hearts bar billiards team. I am still not entirely sure how the transition from “vaguely reliable middle-order player” to “fearless leader” occurred, but yet here we are.
It is quite a step for someone who honestly thought they had successfully navigated their way into a quiet retirement from the competitive green baize of bar billiards, indeed, I’ve written about that before. But it seems that the league has a way of pulling you back in just when you think you have escaped the pressure of a tricky final shot.
The fixtures have just landed with some promptness and the grace of a lead balloon, and they have not exactly eased me into the role. Our opening gambit is against one of the absolute titans of the division, the Black Stars, and, to add a layer of personal drama to the proceedings, our subsequent match is against the quite wonderful Serengeti led by Roy, who is perhaps the most gentlemanly person I’ve ever met. Having spent a couple of seasons playing for them, I now find myself in the awkward position of trying to outmanoeuvre my old teammates while pretending I don’t know all their tactical weaknesses. Although they know my many weaknesses, so all of this might not be useful.
Despite my own questionable leadership credentials, the Artichoke Hearts are actually really quite good by all accounts. I won’t go overboard here as we’re likely to come last in the league, so no point being overly optimistic. There is a genuine sense of fun that (generally) permeates this league, which is probably why I couldn’t stay away. The social side is of course inevitably compelling, especially with the news that the Red Lion in Coltishall has joined the league this year and we’re playing there in May. I am genuinely excited about the prospect of heading out there, but I don’t get out much.
Home games at the Artichoke are fairly straightforward affairs involving decent beer and a steady supply of Tayto crisps, which remain the undisputed king of the bar snack hierarchy I’ve recently decided, although I can be fickle with these things. It is going to be a long, unpredictable season, but at least the crisps and beer are likely to be good. What could possibly go wrong?
And we’re off in Richard’s rickety old car, but I was very positive about it by talking about my friend Liam’s decadent car which does massages for the passenger seat…. I think Richard feels better when he hears about positive things.
Safely at the car park at Stratford with none of Richard’s eggs being broken on the journey. Richard reassured me that all the cars sounding their horns at him was just typical London behaviour.
There were some cancellations on the Elizabeth Line, but we had a wait of just a few minutes. Most of the delays were because Richard has bought a suitcase bigger than me that he’s trailing behind him, whereas I have my backpack to allow for efficient travel. I didn’t say anything though.
Top travel tip, don’t use the Elizabeth Line to go to Heathrow Airport if you can avoid it, it’s around four times more than going to Hayes and Harlington on the Elizabeth Line.
And safely into Hayes and Harlington where I had found a little restaurant for us to eat our evening meal in. But more of that in the next post….
And just some more photos to remind myself of what was demolished and when at Anglia Square…. They’re making good progress, although it’ll be interesting to see the cinema when the side is taken off of that.
Back to my series of posts from 200 years ago, I think it might be useful to touch upon the brewery arrangement run by Thomas Massey. He advertised in the Norwich Mercury in March 1825 with this text:
“Thomas Massey, Ale and Table Beer Brewer and Maltster, St. Stephen’s Gates, Norwich. Most deeply impressed with a sense of gratitude for the support which he has received & which he continues daily to receive from his many Friends in the city of Norwich and county of Norfolk, begs thus publicly most respectfully to offer them his sincere and heartfelt thanks, at the same time assuring them his constant endeavours shall be to vend a beverage genuine in quality and pleasing to the palate. Families supplied with Malt and Hops.”
This was the St. Stephen’s Brewery which Massey operated and it was trading from the 1820s. He was still going into the early 1840s and by then he was brewing from the newly opened Champion pub (which is still there and I visited last year), which he appeared to own. In 1844, he decided that he would sell his entire operation off and that included the brewery, malting house, surrounding buildings and some land as well.
In 1899, following the death of Charles Crawshay, there was an interesting article in the local press which touched upon this brewery.
“It is with deep regret that we record the death of Mr Charles Crawshay, of Hingham, who passed away on Wednesday evening, after a very brief illness. The deceased was in his usual health on Tuesday, and enjoyed a long drive in his carriage in the forenoon, but shortly after his return he was suddenly seized with paralysis, which terminated fatally. Mr Crawshay was in his 85th year. Born at Rowfant, Surrey, the deceased gentleman, at the age of 18, went to the London firm of Messrs Charrington, Head, and Co., to undergo a three years training in all that pertains to a brewer’s business. In 1845 he took charge of his father’s St Stephen’s Brewery, Norwich, and in 1850 entered into partnership with Mr John Youngs (Youngs, Crawshay, and Youngs).
In 1876 by a maiden bid of £30,000 at auction he secured the Diss Brewery, which has since proved a valuable adjunct to the Norwich Crown Brewery, which latter has been recently converted in a limited liability company. For the greater part of the century Mr Crawshay has been a familiar figure in the county, and the older inhabitants of Norwich well remember his style and dash. He was one of the best “whips” in the neighbourhood, and the manner in which he handled his four-in-hand team was indeed a sight to witness. He subsequently turned his attention to yachting, and in 1852 his boat, the Kestral, won prizes at Cantley and Coldham Hall regattas and at Yarmouth water frolics. In 1856 he married Miss Cubitt, a relative of Sir William Cubitt, who constructed Lowestoft Harbour. The following year he served the office of Sheriff of Norwich, and received the thanks of the city for his services and hospitality.
On removing to Hingham in 1858 Mr Crawshay went in for farming, and gained considerable fame as a breeder of Southdown and cross-bred sheep. A keen sportsman, he was a big preserver of game. His love of sport is inherited by members of his family. His connection with politics was but slight, but he held that a parson should under no circumstances take part in magisterial affairs. By his death the poor of the district have lost a generous friend.”
In the early 1820s, the British public was gripped by a peculiar form of gambling fever orchestrated by Thomas Bish, someone who seemed quite a character to say the least. The advert above was in the Norwich Mercury from 200 years ago, although the lottery arrangement was a national one.
Bish was the most prominent lottery contractor of his day and he turned the sale of state lottery tickets into a massive marketing spectacle. Operating out of offices at 4 Cornhill and 9 Charing Cross in London he managed to get his whole lottery system sanctioned by the state. He put bold ads in newspapers, such as the Norwich Mercury, he created eye-catching handbills and used humour in his adverts. He was ahead of his time.
The era of these grand lotteries came to a close in 1826 when the Government finally abolished the state lottery as it didn’t suit their needs. Bish did not go quietly as he campaigned vigorously against the ban and even managed to get himself elected as an MP for Leominster twice although his first win was unseated because of his Government lottery contracts. Bish advertised that it would be the last ever lottery conducted in the Kingdom, but then in the 1990s, John Major came along and introduced the National Lottery once again.
This is the final bar billiards table in the Norwich league that I haven’t played on, with the exception of the table out in South Walsham. It’s the table at the Rose and since Zak was planning to practice and Nick had a game from the singles competition at the pub, this felt the ideal time to try it.
Before Nick’s match, we had time for one game, and it transpired that neither of us had ever played at the table. He won, but not by many.
I did have a couple of victories in the evening and here’s Nick after beating his opponent 3-0. He now gets to play Oscar, who annoyingly beat me a few days ago…. Sub-optimal, I could have beaten Nick and I might have mentioned that to him 🙂
This was the second singles tournament game I’ve refereed in a week, I’m hoping that some of the talent will come to me via some form of osmosis.
Anyway, back to the table, it’s a robust arrangement and it’s quite fast off the back cushion. The pockets aren’t very forgiving, it requires some accuracy to get them in. It feels like a relatively low scoring table, I think it’s hard to build big breaks, but it’s nicely looked after. It’s the only table that’s £1 a play in the league, although I suspect the others will catch up at some point.
And, the Rose is a really lovely pub, a suitable range of cask and keg beers, friendly staff and it was also good to see my friend Emma over there, now back brewing Boudicca again.
This is a court case from 21 July 1886, when John Gayford, a 19-year old labourer, was tried in the Guildhall in Norwich with the judge being Baron Pollock.
The crime was sexually assaulting a six year old girl for which he was found guilty and sentenced to six months hard labour for his offences. This seems unduly lenient to me from today’s standards, but one substantial change is that they were merrily naming the poor girl who had been assaulted. To give some context, and although it was a repeat offender, the court the same week gave a criminal twelve months hard labour for stealing 14lbs of plums.
The victim was Nellie Baldwin and in an earlier hearing it was decided that although the only witness to the crime was a five year old boy, the courts accepted that they would take his evidence into account. Nellie, aged six, her five year old friend and a baby in a pram all went out together for the day. When the group returned home, Nellie explained what had happened and a police doctor was called. Some of the case relied upon it must have happened as she was physically hurt and how else would a little girl be able to describe what had happened.
John Gayford went on to become a self-employed gardener, he married Rosanna and they had two children, Rosa and Florence. Someone guilty of his crime today would have likely left the area after they were released, but at the 1921 census he was living at 20 Northumberland Street in Norwich, just a short walk from where the crime took place. He lived there until his death in 1942 and I imagine that just about everyone not directly impacted by the crime had forgotten about it, in those days when searching for information was somewhat harder.
