Category: UK

  • Little Potter to Great Plumstead (and Little Plumstead) – 13 mile walk

    Little Potter to Great Plumstead (and Little Plumstead) – 13 mile walk

    This is a little write-up of the 13 mile meander I went on earlier this week, and I’m not sure how interesting I can make that sound. I shall do my best, but I didn’t exactly walk through Las Vegas, put it that way. Incidentally, I’ve just looked at the title of this blog post and “little potter” is a definition of the walk, not a place name. I’m not changing the title though, I like it, there’s something reassuring about going for a little potter about. I sound like I’m about 80 now, but there we go.

    My walk started off from Norwich city centre going towards Thorpe, this is one of the mile markers that I’ve never noticed before. I was so shocked that I’ve included some of my finger in the photo. I’m not sure if they’ve actually put markers along the whole route, or just shoved this one here in Thorpe village. For those who prefer, there are other ways to walk to Great Yarmouth…..

    Exhausted after my first mile of walking, I had a little sit down to watch the ducks and sit looking at my phone. I then thought it’d be nice to own a boat, before realising I hate driving boats, the water would annoy me and they’re too expensive. So,  thought I’d go to Greggs instead later in the week.

    The Griffin pub, which the council refused to give permission to demolish last year. Then there was a fire, of which I make no comment, and the council have now given permission to demolish this property. This is a viable location for a pub, it’s another loss of amenity to the local residents.

    The Griffin had been a pub since the end of the eighteenth century and the owners had it up at an annual rental of £50,000 per year before the fire, but at that stage it was already in a dilapidated state. Its fate was sadly settled some time ago.

    One of the landscaped areas of Broadland Business Park, it’s quite an attractive little area.

    At this point, I realised that I hadn’t visited the churches in Great Plumstead and Little Plumstead, so I thought that I’d go there. It’s not the most beautiful of landscapes here, although in times long gone, Mousehold Heath used to reach out nearly this far.

    Here’s a Google Streetview image from ten years ago at the same spot when this was a much busier road. The 40mph sign is a bit irrelevant now, for reasons mentioned shortly, but it was handy to get a location fix as a comparison photo.

    Here we have a little problem. The council have built themselves a bloody great big road and have just closed off the smaller roads that once went across it.

    This is the same spot ten years ago, with a rather lovely countryside feel.

    I decided not to be one of the people who just ran across the road, it was far too busy for that. And also, those barriers are higher than they look and I’d likely fall over one of them before I even got onto the road.

    To be fair to the council, they had diverted pedestrians and cyclists down a track so that the delights and pleasures of the Plumsteads could still be reached.

    I think it’s fair to say that these greenhouses are past their best.

    Another closed off road.

    At this point, here’s the lovely new way into Plumstead. It can be noted from the photo that the council didn’t bother putting a path up to the road (well, there is one, but it’s a faff) so people have made their own.

    And here’s the lovely path that walkers have created for themselves. Councils forget walkers way too easily…..

    Sad.

    And, I arrived safely into Great Plumstead. I say that I arrived safely, but it’s not exactly inner city Los Angeles around these parts. There are two parishes here, Great Plumstead and Little Plumstead, also known in the past as Plumstead Magna and Plumstead Parva. There’s been human activity in the area since Neolithic times and it was a relatively substantial settlement by the time the Domesday Book was written in the late eleventh century.

    I wrote up more about St. Mary’s Church in Great Plumstead separately. The village origins are what it suggests from its name, it means that it’s ‘the settlement by the plum trees’.

    This is the lovely Walled Garden where I got a sausage roll and Fanta before sitting in a bus shelter to eat my lunch. It’s exactly not the stuff of Alan Whicker and Michael Palin, but I liked the Walled Garden and have already written about that.

    There is a church in Little Plumstead, but there was a sign at the main entrance saying that it was dangerous to enter. I assume that there was some work going on rather than that being organised by some renegade and militant atheist group. I did try and pop into the churchyard via the back entrance, but I could see some men in hi-vis and so I didn’t want to be ordered out so I left. What was probably happening is that they were pinching the lead off the roof for all I know, but put a sign down and wear hi-vis, you can get away with nearly anything.

    A dusty road…..

    I haven’t yet worked out how this lane got its name.

    This is the railway line between Norwich and Sheringham, with trees removed from the side of the embankment. I’m always slightly surprised when people are horrified by this, railways really aren’t the best place to have trees growing next to, nor was it usual in most areas to have allowed that to happen. Fallen trees on railway lines aren’t really ideal if I’m being honest.

    And then the walk back into Norwich, including stopping at Aldi to reward my efforts with some jelly babies and beer. OK, so this isn’t the most exotic and interesting of walk reports, but it’s the best I’ve got at the moment given lockdown. Next week means I can get buses to other places in Norfolk, so I can ensure that the nation is riveted by my tales from Acle or similar….

  • Norwich History by Parish : St. Peter Southgate

    Norwich History by Parish : St. Peter Southgate

    And a new little project that Jonathan and I are undertaking because this lockdown is clearly here for at least a few more weeks. It’s a bit niche (our project I mean, not the lockdown), I’ll accept that, but there we go. Effectively, it’s walking around Norwich, ancient parish by ancient parish and seeing what is there now compared to a map from the 1880s (and the 1920s). There’s a PDF of these boundaries to provide some extra background to this whole project.

    Today’s meander was around the parish of St. Peter Southgate, which sits at the southern end of King Street, connecting to the parish of St. Julian’s. This parish has retained much of its medieval character, not least the city walls which run straight through the middle of St. Peter Southgate. The church itself has mostly gone, but some of the structure remains and the churchyard is now partly used as a playground. Some of the riverside buildings have also gone, but equally, many have been turned into residential properties. The old road structure and layout remains in place here, with the exception of Carrow Bridge which has moved location slightly. Overall, I do like this part of Norwich, and it has some extensive views over the city centre.

    The parish cuts across the Read Mills development, with the Malt House, Ferry Yard, Albion Mill and Spooner’s Wharf all being in this parish, and Cannon Wharf is in St. Julian’s parish. I quite like this development, there’s a mixture of old and new, with some redeveloped buildings and some new build. George Plunkett has a photo here from 1968. The sad loss here is the pub that stood at the edge of this development where it joins onto Carrow Bridge, as this used to be the Kingsway Pub (photo from 1938) which traded from 1935 until 2001 and was demolished in 2005.

    The Reads Mill development is on the site of where St. Olave’s Church once stood. St. Olave was a Scandinavian saint and this church was here in Saxon times, but there’s documentary evidence that it stood here between 1186 and 1210. It’s not known when the building was demolished, but it was before 1345. I mentioned to Jonathan that I was confused why the wall opposite, Southgate Lane, had chunks of what looked like Caen stone from the Cathedral, but it seems that it might well have been taken from this church.

    I rather like these steps, well worn over the decades, and they’re at the entrance to Southgate Lane.

    The old sign still hanging onto the flint wall.

    This is the path which leads onto Bracondale and Ber Street. There was an entrance to St. Peter’s churchyard somewhere on the wall to the left, but it appears this was rebuilt in the late nineteenth century and so any evidence of that has gone.

    This is the church from which the parish takes its name, St. Peter Southgate, and it was the most southerly church within the city walls. This is all that remains of it today, but it was still standing (sort of, bits were falling off which isn’t ideal) in the 1880s. There was some talk at the time of saving it, but there were enough other churches in the area, so it was mostly demolished in 1887. What is quite exciting is that there was some archaeological work here in 1997 and they found that some of the structure had been left buried underground and they also found the former medieval pathway to the church.

    What remains today is the lower part of the tower, but this is what it looked like in the middle of the nineteenth century. The main structure of the building was fourteenth century, although there was likely another church on the site before that, with some redevelopment taking place in the earlier sixteenth century.

    This is where Argyle Street joins Southgate Lane. There were residential properties here until not long ago, but they were demolished as there appears to be some subsidence issues.

    Back on Southgate Lane, these properties were built on at the same time as Alan Road and Stuart Road (more on which later in this post), all part of the Colman development. These three properties are located on the former site of the rectory of St. Peter Southgate Church.

    For those who think Norfolk isn’t hilly, they should walk about a parish built onto the side of what I consider to be a mountain. This is still Southgate Lane and its near vertical incline (or what I consider vertical).

    Southgate House, but the edge of our parish is about here, so I’ll cover the rest of this area in another post. The reason that the parish line is along here is that this is the ridge which runs along this part of the city, and it formed quite an obvious boundary between the lower and upper parts of Norwich in this area.

    Now on Carrow Hill, this is the remains of the city wall which was constructed in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries to keep dangerous people out of Norwich.

    A fair chunk of the wall stands in this part of the city, I think it’s one of the best preserved parts. Most other parts of the wall have only survived because buildings have been built up against them, but this has generally damaged the wall and development takes it toll on structures like this. Here’s a George Plunkett photo from 1934 of this section of wall.

    Until recently this was Carrow Hill Hostel, but was previously a private residence known as the Wilderness. It was constructed in the middle of the nineteenth century, with a later extension added at the end of the same century. Unfortunately, it is now boarded up, but would make a quite wonderful home given its views over the city. Or, actually, it would make a nice Greggs.

    I have to be honest and mention that this isn’t necessarily the nicest part of Norwich, there’s a fair amount of vandalism and anti-social behaviour here. I’m fairly sure that this isn’t where the railings should be either.

    The Black Tower, which was once the home of the city constable. By the eighteenth century the original defensive purpose of the tower had been lost and it was turned into a snuff mill, although the structure was modified in the nineteenth century to remove most remnants of that usage.

    The base of Black Tower which was used in the sixteenth century to hold the bodies of plague victims.

    Inside the Black Tower, but it’s gated off to prevent anyone getting in.

    Walking down the path by the city walls.

    The views over Norwich are extensive here, although a little hidden by the trees at the moment. Little has really changed in this part of Norwich, also named the Wilderness, over the last few hundred years.

    More fence smashed off from somewhere.

    I don’t know who is in charge of the maintenance here, but the wooden support rails have been damaged or have just fallen off through age.

    More of those Norwich views.

    The remnants of a bike. There’s quite an assortment of junk down here, including some wheelie bins that some resident is likely quite annoyed to have lost.

    This is Wilderness Tower, which sits further down the hill to Black Tower, and takes its name from this area which as mentioned earlier is also known as the Wilderness. This doorway is visible in George Plunkett’s photo from 1965, where the path down doesn’t look quite as easy to navigate as it is today.

    And more litter…..

    Looking back up the path, this route is I think often overlooked by visitors to the city who might not think to come to this part of Norwich.

    At the base of Wilderness Tower.

    The path narrows here and returns back down to King Street.

    Alan Road, built by the Colman family, and this was named after Alan Cozens-Hardy Colman.

    This road backs onto the hill, with both the Black Tower and the Wilderness Tower in the distance.

    The base of the hill at the end of Alan Road.

    The back alley between Alan Road, on the left, and Stuart Road, on the right. Morrison’s might want to pop down to this little vicinity to collect several of their trolleys which have been abandoned.

    This is the wall that separates Stuart Road from the former churchyard of St. Peter Southgate.

    And now into the Colman family built Stuart Road, which is named after James Stuart, who married Laura Colman. He’s also linked with Stuart Court and Stuart Gardens in the city centre.

    And this road runs parallel to Alan Road.

    One area that has changed over the last 100 years is the moving of Carrow Bridge and more on its former location later. This new bridge required a section of road to be built from King Street to the River Wensum, although there was already a road on the other side that led to the river. As the plaque notes, the bridge was opened by HRH Edward Prince of Wales on 27 June 1923.

    Standing on the current bridge, it’s possible to see where the predecessor was, as it’s by that red life buoy (click on the above image to even get a chance of seeing that…).

    The pilot’s office (I have no idea if that’s appropriate terminology, but it’s the shed thing that the person who moves the bridge up and down sits in) which I’m not sure is used very regularly any more.

    This is Carrow Bridge House, used by the master or pilot of the bridge, which was sold off in 2017, reaching the sum of £250,000. It’s currently boarded up and will probably end up as some Airbnb arrangement.

    This is back on King Street and was until relatively recently the site of the Jolly Maltsters public house. I read that this was pulled down for road improvement works that never took place, but that might just be a false rumour. It’s a shame the pub was lost, especially since the Kingsway pub opposite was also taken down. George Plunkett, as ever of course, has photographed it, and here’s the Jolly Maltsters in 1983.

    The former city walls leading down to the river. This work on the walls seems to have been going on for some considerable time, but perhaps the current pandemic has caused a delay.

    There is a boom tower on either side of the river here, in place of the walls. The boom is a chain which would be slung across between the two towers, making it impossible for enemy boats to sail into the city.

    One of the converted riverside buildings and I know a little about this development. It’s been a little bit fraught throughout and although these older buildings look fine aesthetically, the construction of the site wasn’t perhaps always ideal. It’s a decent location though by the river, but I wonder about the long-term sustainability of some of the new build flats that have been put up.

    I mentioned earlier that the bridge has moved and there’s a plaque which is a reminder of what the old one looked like.

    George Plunkett has a photo from 1964 of what the stone footing of the bridge looked like on this side of the river.

    These are the buildings that remained part of the industrial site until recently, but will likely end up soon as a residential development. I don’t want to write much about Colmans at this stage, because most of these buildings are in Bracondale parish and I don’t want to confuse myself in advance of writing about that area. However, Colmans built their first factory in Norwich in 1854 and they only left in 2020, meaning this entire site is likely to be part of a major new development. There’s a plan being put forward which would see 4,000 homes being constructed here and some talk of a marina. I hope it has a Greggs.

    The Granary View development, with the new section on the left hand side, and the buildings on the right which back onto the river are mostly renovated from older structures. The road to the left at the front of the photo leads to King Street and to the right (and out of shot, but by that yellow grit bin) is the site of the former bridge.

    Our parish boundary comes to an end around here, where it becomes the parish of Bracondale. However, that is outside of the city centre parishes, so this was the edge of Norwich as far as those boundaries went, just outside of the line of the old city walls.

    Looking up Carrow Hill.

    I’m slightly puzzled that this building doesn’t appear to be listed, but it’s the Carrow Hill school which was opened by Colmans to help educate the children of their workforce. Colmans had an excellent reputation for this, as well as for their efforts to construct decent housing for their employees. The school opened in the 1860s, but it stopped being used for that purpose in 1919. Colmans kept hold of the buildings and used them for research laboratories and for Sunday school gatherings, finally selling off the buildings to be used as offices in 1962. There were some extensive allotments here, but they are now under a new residential development.

    The stone isn’t the easiest to read, but I think it says infants. I doubt many infants would work that out….

    A reminder of the air raid that killed five employees of Colmans, namely Maud Balaam (aged 40), Maud Burrell (aged 37), Bertha Playford (aged 19), Gladys Sampson (aged 18) and Bessie Upton (aged 36).

    Norwich is definitely not flat, this is the city centre taken from Carrow Hill.

    And to end the walk, a meander back down to King Street using a different set of steps. This is all, I think, a quite lovely area (bar the vandalism and fly tipping).

  • Great Plumstead – St Mary’s Church

    Great Plumstead – St Mary’s Church

    This is not quite what I expected from St. Mary’s in Great Plumstead, I had expected a medieval church and instead found something rather more Victorian. However, this isn’t an over-zealous restoration to suit nineteenth century sensitivities, the church burned down in December 1891 and so had to be rebuilt.

    The tower was mostly spared from the fire and this is now the oldest part of the church, dating from 1711.

    The locals were probably a little annoyed to discover their church alight in 1891, as a substantial restoration had taken place not that long before, in 1875, which was supervised by the architect Ewan Christian (and is the one in the plan above). The then vicar, the Rev. E Cole, had raised enough money to restore the nave, with the chancel upgrades having been funded by the Ecclesiastical Commissioners.

    The chancel end is quite near to the road, it feels unusually hemmed in, so I wonder whether the first church on this site was a little smaller.

    The church tower, with that flint section at the base being older than the rest of the tower. Back to the fire though in 1891, which caused quite a commotion in the village. The vicar, residents and the fire brigade were in attendance, but the local press said that the structure was left “tottering and shattered” with the requirement of a rebuild being immediately obvious. It took a little while for the fire brigade to find men and horses to get from Norwich, and by the time they arrived the roof had already collapsed in. The fire brigade were asked by the vicar to try and direct the water, which the press noted was quite muddy, towards the area where the church’s historic documents were located in a bid to save them. Fortunately for the church, it was fully insured with Norwich Union.

    The press report is a little amusing, although I’m not entirely sure it was quite intended to be. To cut a long story short, the fire had started underneath the floors where the heating system had become clogged. The vicar had noticed earlier on in the day that his church was lovely and warm, so he commented on this to a friend, about how the heating apparatus was doing such a good job. I think it’s fair to say that the heating apparatus was actually on fire, which wasn’t ideal.

    The porch and unfortunately the church was locked, which obviously meant I couldn’t go in. However, I’m not that engaged in Victorian churches, so I didn’t feel I was missing anything too dramatic.

    Nicely decorated gates.

    The village’s war memorial.

    A lot of the graves in the churchyard are modern, but there are some older stones which are now covered in ivy.

    All told, this is a pleasant church, but architecturally unexceptional, but only because fire has required a replacement building. All peaceful though, Great Plumstead feels like a remote village although it’s relatively close to Norwich.

  • Little Plumstead – Walled Garden Community Shop and Cafe

    Little Plumstead – Walled Garden Community Shop and Cafe

    I hadn’t heard of this community project before, but it’s based at what was once the walled garden of Plumstead Hall and is marked as 173 in the above map (click to make it larger). This was a large residential property built in 1889 on the site of an earlier hall, with the building later being turned into a mental hospital. It was used in this manner from the 1930s until it was closed in the 1990s, with the site being partly used for a new residential development. Sadly, although the building didn’t have great architectural interest, what was Plumstead Hall was destroyed by fire in 2016. It was a common visiting site for urban explorers and there are numerous accounts on-line, including this one from 2010.

    Anyway, a community project has been unveiled for this site and there is now a cafe, shop and gardens that have been opened up. There are two primary parts of Plumstead, the villages of Great Plumstead and Little Plumstead, and they lost their only shop in 2016. It’s fair to say that this wasn’t entirely ideal for local residents as although it might only have been a small Happy Shopper that closed, it was the last retail premises left. But, this community project has changed that.

    This is the entrance to the gardens, suitable for those in wheelchairs.

    Current restrictions mean that the cafe can only be opened as a takeaway and I’m pleased to say that someone with some sense has been involved in this arrangement. There are clear menus before ordering, the prices are reasonable, the ordering process is simple, they accept cards, the staff member was friendly, it felt welcoming and nothing confused, annoyed or puzzled me. All really well managed. There’s a central counter which is used for the shop on the other side, and the cafe on this side, with everything being clean.

    Isn’t this all rather lovely? Customers can usually sit in these gardens to enjoy their cafe purchases, although that’s limited at the moment because of national restrictions. But there was a really friendly vibe going on here, with the volunteer gardeners performing various different tasks. This is a community project that I can see local residents would want to get involved with, something to make them feel included and to meet people. This is a wonderful opportunity for inclusivity, for people to feel they’re part of something and to get them out of the house. What a perfect way of helping people with mental health issues, and how quite apt that this was the site of a hospital which tried to improve the mental health of its residents.

    I got the last sausage roll, which was a relief, as I was quite in the mood for such a delicious pastry product. It was served cold, but it tasted fine with the meat having a richness of flavour and the pastry was light. For £2, I thought it was all entirely acceptable.

    95p for a can of Fanta, all quite reasonable. Looking at online reviews, it seems that others have also found their visits to be positive as well. What’s interesting for the future is that this is still all quite early stage, so there are lots of plans for what new facilities they can offer over the next few years.

    I really like this place, not just because there was a friendly welcome, but because of the concept and the community work that is going on here. And, this is run professionally, I can see their social media channels, their communications, their web-site and their operations are all slick and well managed. I shall positively endeavour to bring LDWA walkers here (and maybe some Ramblers if they’re well behaved) as projects like this should definitely be encouraged.

  • Norwich History by Parish : St. Julian (Section 2/2)

    Norwich History by Parish : St. Julian (Section 2/2)

    And a new little project that Jonathan and I are undertaking because this lockdown is clearly here for at least a few more weeks. It’s a bit niche (our project I mean, not the lockdown), I’ll accept that, but there we go. Effectively, it’s walking around Norwich, ancient parish by ancient parish and seeing what is there now compared to a map from the 1880s (the map above is from 1789, but the one from the 1880s is more detailed, which is why we used that). There’s a PDF of these boundaries to provide some extra background to this whole project.

    St. Julian (the exclave) is the ninth parish we’ve visited and as can be seen from the above PDF, it’s split into two separate areas, with St. Etheldreda in the middle and I’ve already covered the main part which includes St. Julian’s Church. This post is the southern part, and there is nearly nothing left from even 100 years ago. In the main, I’d say that someone who lived here 100 years ago wouldn’t be able to recognise what stands today, as the majority of roads in this section of the parish have been removed and changed.

    To start off, I’ll try and explain what is happening in this area and the above is a dual map, with 1920s mapping on the left and the current mapping on the right (click on the image to make it larger). There are a few constants here, which are Ber Street on the left of the map, Argyle Street in the middle and King Street on the right. The southern part of St. Julian’s parish doesn’t have a church in it, it’s at the base of the hill (so the buildings on Argyle Street) to the River Wensum.

    This collection of sheds is along the former route of Compass Street, which connected Argyle Street to Mariners Lane. This is what the council planners have delivered for the people of Norwich, here’s what was here before. Others can decide which they prefer.

    The base of the hill, this section was Arthur Street.

    This is standing on what was Compass Street looking towards Argyle Street, which is still there, although with no older buildings on it.

    Normandie Tower stands 16 storeys high and was completed in 1966. I’ve never been convinced that this entirely fits into the landscape of Norwich, but the city council likely thought it was a marvellous idea. It’s the same height as Winchester Tower, in another part of Norwich, which are the tallest buildings in the city with the exception of Norwich City Hall. Geoffrey Goreham took a photo of Normandie Tower being constructed.

    Argyle Street, and this is perhaps one of the better known streets in the country as it was the scene of a large squat between 1979 and 1985. The short story is that a decision was made to save this one section of the city from destruction, as great swathes of nearby residential developments were pulled down, in many case ignoring substantial local opposition. However, to cut a long story short, various council decisions saw the community shunted out and they were left with a squat. There were some initial plans to formalise this arrangement, but the Government wouldn’t let the council do this. After much faffing about, the bailiffs took control of the buildings and demolished them, replacing these Victorians buildings that had survived the slum clearances to be lost in the mid-1980s.

    Some of the council’s replacement buildings from the 1980s have recently been pulled down as there are subsidence problems in the area. There are now plans for a replacement development and I note that the city council is requiring:

    “The design of development must respect the adjacent wooded ridge and the setting of neighbouring listed and locally listed buildings.”

    I think it’s fair to say that the council finally and belatedly recognises the importance of this area, but sadly much heritage from the village on the hill has all now gone for good. There’s a much longer account of how the council managed to get into this fiasco at https://issuu.com/alstokes/docs/argyle_street_ which is written by Al Stokes.

    And here’s what the street looked like in 1962, which I think all looks quite attractive.

    The base of the ridge, which is the rear of the parish boundary.

    I’m not an expert in old walls, but this is probably a supporting wall from the 1960s, but it might have an older structure behind it as this slope is natural and not caused by building work.

    Moving away now from the Argyle Street area, this is Cannon Wharf which lies between the River Wensum and King Street. It retains the name of the previous building and it’s the final building in St. Julian’s parish before it becomes St. Peter Southgate parish. Norfolk Heritage Explorer notes:

    “An excavation in 1997 discovered buried soils dating from the early Norman period, demonstrating that intrusive modern development has not destroyed the earliest archaeological deposits in this area. These deposits were overlain by a medieval stone building which may have been partly destroyed during Kett’s rebellion in 1549. Finds from the site include Late Saxon and medieval pottery and 12th century leather working debris. Excavation in 2007-2008 has also recovered evidence of revetment and deposits laid in order to raise the level of the foreshore of the River Wensum in the 11th-13th centuries, as well as the possible remains of a landing stage. Later medieval and post medieval features included a flint boundary wall and further possible landing stages, and the remains of industrial buildings and services dating to the late 19th and 20th century were also uncovered.”

    This is one of only two older buildings in this southern section of St. Julian’s Parish, known as Cannon Cottage.

    The cottage is now used for holiday lets, which is a shame as it would have made for a nice residential property.

    The frontage onto King Street, although the interior has been heavily changed. The building was heavily restored to ensure that it survived and I like that it has been kept, at least something of a constant in an area that has nearly all been bulldozed.

    The original building date of 1847 is visible.

    The fenced off area is likely because there’s a hot tub in there and they didn’t want people watching from the bridge.

    Norwich is twinned with Novi Sad in Serbia and this bridge was named after that connection.

    The bridge is for pedestrians and cyclists only and not for road traffic (I approve), having opened in 2001. Constructed by May Gurney at a total cost of £800,000 it’s apparently an asymmetric cable stayed swing footbridge, which probably means more to my friend Liam (who is currently building a bridge, or more likely drinking tea thinking about building a bridge).

    There’s foot access to the Wensum by the side of the bridge, looking left towards Norwich Riverside.

    And looking right towards Carrow Road, which is Norwich City’s football ground.

    This has been the scene of much controversy and delay over recent years, the former car park of the Ferry Boat Inn in Norwich. The former Greene King pub shut a few years ago, meaning that every pub along the main part of King Street has now been shut down, with a new project called King’s Bank now underway here. This project means the structure of the pub will remain, but it won’t be used as a licensed premises, instead the site will have 41 homes on it.

    This is the former line of King Street, there’s now a junction here with Rouen Road on the left and King Street on the right. This is roughly where 195 to 197 King Street stood, a not particularly exciting building which George Plunkett photographed in 1936.

    The side of the Ferry Boat Inn, George Plunkett took a photo here in 1936 and he also has one from behind the pub dating from 1987. There’s a photo from AA King of this area from the 1940s, although taken from the other direction to my photo.

    And the pub itself, which is the only other building that survives in this part of the parish. It open as a licensed premises in the middle of the nineteenth century and closed, initially temporarily, in 2006. For a while in 1988 the pub’s landlord was Steve Wright, the Ipswich mass murderer. It’s a shame that this won’t continue to be a pub, as it once occupied something of an enviable river position.

  • Great Moulton – St Michael and All Angels Church

    Great Moulton – St Michael and All Angels Church

    The church of St. Michael and All Angels in the village of Great Moulton and the bulk of the building dates from the twelfth and fifteenth centuries. It’s reached by going down a relatively narrow lane and the church is set back some way from the road.

    The tower is neat, but unexceptional, and it was reconstructed in 1887.

    Although the core of the walls is older the Victorians faffed about here quite a lot with their restoration work, led by the architect Herbert Green and constructed by Grimwood & Bullen.

    This does though mean that the Victorian floor plan gives some indication about the interior of the building, which was reconfigured to seat 76 in the nave, 44 in the north aisle and 17 in the chancel.

    A bricked up early medieval window on the side of the nave and it can also be seen where the walls have been raised during a later stage of building work.

    A complex array of windows on the chancel, and this section of the church predates the nave.

    The chancel end of the church.

    Unfortunately, this was another locked church. The doorway is medieval and the porch itself is from the fifteenth century.

    A board inside the porch with the names of past rectors and vicars.

    This is a repurposed tomb from the fourteenth century, likely moved from inside the church. Norfolk Heritage mention that this was investigated and taken apart in 1999, but there is no burial beneath the tomb as there was natural clay. All slightly puzzling. Such is my poor knowledge of historic religious structures that I merrily walked by this without noticing it, it was only the listed building record that explained that it was there.

    It’s a rather attractive and spacious graveyard with daffodils abound.

    I took this photo from the churchyard and for anyone who is so minded to click on the above photo to enlarge it will see the wires of the London to Norwich mainline.

  • Wacton – All Saints Church

    Wacton – All Saints Church

    The Grade I listed All Saints Church in Wacton looks a little bit odd, a grand fourteenth century combined nave and chancel (which were once thatched), alongside a tower which is possibly late Saxon and which was reconstructed in the twelfth century.

    The south side of the church. This village was once known as Wacton Magna, and there was a smaller settlement nearby called Wacton Parva, which both had their own churches. However, the latter settlement became smaller following the Black Death and their church stopped being used for services in around 1500 and it fell down in the decades that followed.

    The north side of the church and the join between the tower and the nave.

    The tower has an odd two tier arrangement going on, where the top section is narrower.

    It’s not entirely clear to see on the photo, but a fair chunk of the glasswork is bent out of shape.

    The chancel window, which was altered in the seventeenth century and restored in the nineteenth century.

    The chunky south door with some old ironwork, but, no porch. This also isn’t a situation where the porch fell down, or someone pinched it or whatever, the church just never had one. This whole building is a mystery to me and there doesn’t seem to be that much history of the structure available on-line. So, this means I’ll have to make it up based on my very sketchy knowledge of church history.

    We know that the church was rebuilt in the fourteenth century, not least as the earlier tower is still standing. There’s also the not inconsequential matter of the Black Death which took place between around 1350 and this caused a slowdown in church building, as there was less money to pay for things and a lack of craftsmen to build things. Church towers were often replaced when finances allowed and the local residents would have wanted a decent one to look better than neighbouring villages, and it’s clear that there was some money to pay for the grand new nave and chancel.

    This all suggests to me (and, this is likely entirely nonsense, but it’s a theory and I’m sticking with it) that the tower would have been replaced in the late fourteenth century if the Black Death hadn’t taken place. By the time that it had, there wasn’t the money available and there was some steady depopulation in this area, evident by the subsequent merging of the two Wacton parishes into one. This suggests that the planned porch and the planned new tower just never got built, and then money wasn’t available. There was often relatively little substantial work done to churches between the late Tudor period and the Victorian period, which meant that All Saints was never entirely completed. What was there in around 1350 is still there over 650 years later, which is the speed that the Anglia Square project in Norwich seems to be moving at. But that’s another story.

    Simon Knott notes that this church is not easy to get into, although there was a sign which mentioned that private prayer was possible on Thursdays between 09:00 and 16:00. I hope that when normality resumes the building is flung open to the community in the way that the Church of England ask for their churches to be.

    As an aside, there was a tragedy in 1934 when workmen were repairing the tower and had a length of cable sprawled out across the road for whatever reason. This little arrangement wasn’t conducted with much care and a local man and grocer, William Humphrey Grimble, was killed when he drove into the cable on his motorcycle.

  • Tharston – St. Mary’s Church

    Tharston – St. Mary’s Church

    There is something rather peaceful about the church of St. Mary’s at Tharston, seemingly in the remote Norfolk countryside. It’s in reality sandwiched by the London to Norwich rail mainline and the Norwich to Ipswich main road, but even given this all was quiet.

    It’s all quite idyllic, although the metropolis of Long Stratton is starting to overspill into the Tharston suburbs, so I wonder how long these fields will remain free from housing.

    The tower and church feel well proportioned, coming together like a fine stout and a chicken pie. These aren’t incidentally words that I’ve carefully crafted whilst writing, my mind wandered earlier on when I was at the church. The Harvey Mausoleum is located in the churchyard, but more on that in another post. The churchyard is also raised up from the road, partly due to the number of burials which have taken place here over the centuries, but the site is also deliberately built on a hill (not a very big hill, but a hill nonetheless).

    The four stage tower, completed in the early sixteenth century, not long before the Reformation.

    The chancel end of the church.

    The church’s scratch dial, for telling the time of services.

    The chancel, which is primarily from the beginning of the fourteenth century has been lowered and one of the windows filled in. The late Paul Cattermole, who I met a few times, wrote a history of this church and he suggested that this took place in 1723, when finances were not necessarily at their greatest.

    The filled in window. Cattermole also notes that damage was done to the church during the English Civil War, and in Tharston’s case this wasn’t down to the officials who often visited churches to smash stained glass and whitewash over colourful imagery. That was because Tharston had been lumbered up with a Mr T Trunch who took over during the English Commonwealth, and he destroyed numerous items in the church himself, which included removing the medieval altar slab.

    Putting the date on things does help later generations understand what happened when…..

    A trig mark at the base of the church tower.

    The doorway, with the church being locked unfortunately. There is though a list of keyholders that visitors can contact to gain access when normality returns to the country. The porch dates to the sixteenth century, although it was renovated and restored in the middle of the nineteenth century, as were numerous others parts of the building.

  • Swannington – St. Margaret’s Church

    Swannington – St. Margaret’s Church

    The current church in Swannington primarily dates to the thirteenth century, although it’s known that there was an older building on the site before this. It’s location is deliberate, placed on the highest point in the village, but it’s not clear whether the earlier building was late Saxon or early Norman.

    The chancel end of the church, with a couple of tombstones built into the wall.

    The scratch dial, once used to tell the time for services in the church. The top half is decorative and doesn’t perform any known function.

    The holy water stoup in the church’s porch, which likely all dates from 1457.

    This feels like a proper medieval porchway and it’s full of character, or at least as much as a porch can be.

    The medieval doorway.

    The inside of the doorway which leads into the porch.

    I’m not particularly knowledgeable about medieval graffiti in churches so it was fortunate that there was a printed guide inside the building to make visitors aware of where it was located. This was inside the entrance to the porch.

    And some medieval graffiti carved into the stone inside the church.

    Looking down the church along the nave and into the chancel.

    There’s no separate tower within the church, it has been incorporated into the nave. There are three bells in the tower, one from 1621 and the other two are from 1674.

    The church’s font which is from the thirteenth century, although the marble leg bits are Victorian. It’s conceivable that this pre-dates the current church, but, either way, this has been used in the Christening of tens of generations. When this font was first used the language used would have been Middle English, which would be hard for someone from today to understand. So, this font has been here for so long that the entire language of a nation has changed around it, whilst it has continued to be used. I feel I’m verging into the realms of being rather too loquacious now, so enough about how old the font it.

    The south aisle is visible on the left of the above photo. This would have once been a busy church, or at least relatively busy, with pilgrims as Swannington was on the route of the Norwich to Walsingham pilgrimage trail.

    The removal of the pews from the church is recent and deliberate, it returns the interior to more as it would have looked during the medieval period.

    I was never quite sure about whether Victorian pews should be taken out and sold off, but the more I see of church interiors like this, the more that I like them. It’s open, it’s easier to hold events and it makes the church look more welcoming.

    The old entrance to the rood stairs, removed after the Reformation.

    This is a Norman piscina which was discovered in the church during the First World War, although there are numerous questions about this, as it’s unlikely to actually be from here as it’s perched in front of a later piscina from the fourteenth century. Anyway, this older one shows St. George slaying the dragon.

    The chancel, and the church originally had three, as there were smaller set-ups at the end of the two aisles as well.

    There are some areas of the church which need a little work, as is evident from this damp area.

    The north doorway, with the Royal Arms of George III above the door. This is now the entrance to an extension added in the 1970s which provides some kitchen and toilet facilities.

    The church is rightly rather proud of this, an old wall painting of St. Christopher which dates to the medieval period. Although more commonly known today as the patron saint of travellers, he was once revered for the security and protection that he could offer to everyone, so his image was often painted in churches. The wall painting was rediscovered in the 1840s and there are currently fundraising efforts to protect this so that it can survive into the future. In some ways, it might have been better if it hadn’t been discovered in the early Victorian period, as their attempts to protect it have perhaps not been ideal against modern standards.

    As an aside, I’ve contacted Historic England to correct the spelling mistake in the listing of this church as their spelling of Margaret is incorrect. I bet they’ll be thrilled (although, to be fair, they do ask people to contact them if they spot things like this…..).

  • Forncett St Mary – St. Mary’s Church (Thomas Edward Green)

    Forncett St Mary – St. Mary’s Church (Thomas Edward Green)

    There’s one Commonwealth War Graves Commission grave at St. Mary’s Church and it commemorates the life of Thomas Edward Green.

    Thomas was born in 1908, the son of John Green (1867-1952) and Emily Green (1870-1944), both of whom are also buried in the churchyard.

    At the 1911 census, the family were living in Forncett St. Mary, with John working as a railway labourer and this was a large family, Maurice aged 17, Emily aged 15, Irene aged 14, Jack aged 9, Bernard aged 7, Thomas Edward aged 3 and Joyce aged 1. Maurice was working as a farm labourer, which was likely the limit of employment options for many younger people at that time. John and Emily hadn’t lost any children at a young age, but one had left home by the 1911 census. Maurice fought in the First World War, but he returned home safely.

    Thomas married Alexandra Nell Turner, who had been born in 1906, of Wreningham in 1932. During the Second World War, he joined the Royal Navy with service number P/JX 518572 and was sent to HMS Collingwood, a land based training centre used by the navy.

    Thomas died on 18 June 1943, at the age of 35. There’s no mention in the local newspapers of any accident at HMS Collingwood, so this was perhaps a natural death. His body was brought back to Forncett St. Mary and buried a few days later. Alexandra died on 21 October 1979, having lived at Wymondham Road in Wreningham and I assume that she didn’t remarry since she had the same surname of Green.

    As an aside, there is perhaps a limited amount of relevance in my posts such as this, as I haven’t been unable to discover any new story to excite and delight the Internet. Thomas was just one of at least eight children that John and Emily had, with no doubt many stories to be told there as well. But, I still find the stories of those who fought and died in the First and Second World Wars to be captivating, and their retelling in whatever form keeps the memory of the lost and damaged generations alive in at least some way.