Walking. Gossip. Travel.

Category: UK

  • Drymere – Name Origin

    Drymere – Name Origin

    I walked through Drymere, near Swaffham, yesterday and I have to say, lovely as it was, there wasn’t an abundance of facilities. The Concise Oxford Dictionary Of English Placenames also doesn’t list Drymere as a location, the first such village I’ve come across that isn’t listed.

    And, this is probably why, the map from 100 years ago shows there’s no such place as Drymere. It wasn’t a village, there was just a pit which had the name that just means a ‘dry hole’. So, a handy way of naming a location where there are a few houses, but it seems there’s not much heritage beyond that.

  • Cockley Cley – Church of All Saints

    Cockley Cley – Church of All Saints

     

    There has been a church here since probably around the twelfth to thirteenth centuries (and perhaps there was another building from before that), and most of the current exterior dates to that period, albeit with some restorations during the nineteenth century. The roof was also replaced during this time and the interior was refitted, all under the supervision of Richard Phipson.

    The east end of the church, and the neat and tidy churchyard.

    The south porch is a more recent addition, dating from the late nineteenth century, when the interior was also altered and Victorianised.

    A somewhat less than ideal situation developed for the church in August 1991, when the tower fell down. It did though give archaeologists a chance to look in-depth at the stone which had been used in the tower, and they found numerous pieces with masons marks on them.

    There are some photos of what the tower looked like, including one just after it fell down, at https://www.roundtowers.org.uk/cockley-cley-all-saints/. In fairness to the Victorian restoration, it was concluded after an investigation that the tower hadn’t been touched during those works, so this wasn’t anything they’d fiddled about with.

    The interior of the church wasn’t open, but by all accounts, it’s quite a Victorian interior inside and not much pre-dates that.

  • Oxborough – Oxburgh Hall (Secret Jacobite Drinking Glass)

    Oxborough – Oxburgh Hall (Secret Jacobite Drinking Glass)

    This is one of eleven glasses that were commissioned by Sir Henry Arundell Bedingfeld (1689-1760) and the National Trust has done a fair chunk of research on what the glass represented. As an aside, the glasses were all sold in 1908 and all bar this one has gone missing. This particular glass is on temporary loan from the Drambuie Collection and the research conducted received some widespread media attention earlier on in the year.

    It seems that Bedingfield was a supporter of the Jacobite movement, a plot to return the House of Stuart to the British throne. James Francis Edward Stuart (1688-1766), who was for a few months the Prince of Wales and would have been King if it hadn’t been for the Glorious Revolution of 1688 which placed William III on the throne. Bedingfield supported the restoration of the Catholic James Francis Edward Stuart, which meant opposing the Kingship of the Protestant King George II.

    The glasses were probably made in the 1750s, when it was prohibited for anyone in the country to drink to the health of the Stuarts. So, the glasses were made with hidden messages such as the rose and twin buds, which were meant to represent James Francis Edward Stuart, along with the inscribed ‘fiat’, meaning ‘let it come to pass’.

    As for the other ten glasses in this collection? I imagine most people wouldn’t have ever even begun to have recognised the significance of the glasses, so they could be anywhere today, even supposing they’ve survived. It’s a nice find, but without the National Trust offering an explanation and background, I wouldn’t have had a clue what it represented.

  • Oxborough – Oxburgh Hall (Herbaceous Border)

    Oxborough – Oxburgh Hall (Herbaceous Border)

    Just photos here, as I have no knowledge about herbaceous borders or the plants in them. And this most certainly is not going to be a gardening blog…..

    There was once a high hedge on one side of this path and this gave the garden some privacy, making it a peaceful location for Lady Augusta Bedingfeld to walk down when she was pregnant (and likely when she wasn’t pregnant, although the National Trust note she had eleven children, so I’m not sure how much other time she had). There were also doors at either end, but now these have gone and the hedge has been lowered.

  • Caldecote – Bus Stop

    Caldecote – Bus Stop

    This bus stop sign is at least ten years old, although at some stage it has become part of the hedge. The sign helpfully informs anyone walking by looking for a bus stop that there are no buses that serve this area. I’m not sure that the council is generally in the habit of meandering around the countryside putting up signs in remote locations saying there’s no bus stop, so I assume that there was once a service.

    The public transport situation isn’t good around here, especially given that Oxburgh Hall is located near to this closed bus stop. Oxburgh Hall themselves don’t even put walking as an option to get there (quite rightly, very few people would decide to walk there in the way I did), although do suggest cycling. For those getting a train, the advice is “Downham Market, 10 miles, then taxi, no public transport”. Marvellous….

  • Oxborough – Bedingfield Arms

    Oxborough – Bedingfield Arms

    This historic country pub has the benefit of being opposite the entrance to Oxburgh Hall, the large National Trust property. Like the country house, it’s not accessible by public transport, so it’s car-only or by bike. Or you can walk from Swaffham as I did, but this is probably not a common option.

    There’s a well-managed system given the current crisis, which was to wait at a designated area for a member of staff to seat customers. This designated area has a bell to summon staff, which makes entire common sense, but being slightly British I felt it made me look too demanding to press it. Not this proved to be an issue, a staff member came over after ten seconds anyway, resolving that potential dilemma.

    I think that there were tables inside for customers who wanted them, but I was happy in the beer garden. The staff member took the order and then brought the drinks over, all very simple. The pub was asking for customers to pay by card, but since I prefer this payment solution, this didn’t prove to be a problem.

    There was a choice of only two real ales, and no craft beer, but since the pub re-opened yesterday that’s at least better than nothing. The Woodfordes Wherry was well-kept and at the appropriate temperature. I’d have preferred something a little more innovative, but it’s a local beer and I’m sure it’s a popular option. I think it was priced at around £3.60, which is entirely reasonable for a pub in this location.

    The pub’s menu was quite broad, although I felt slightly sorry for the serving staff after three groups in a row asked for sandwiches. The staff politely explained that they weren’t an option at the moment and the three groups then didn’t order any food at all.

    I didn’t order food since I was half-way through what transpired to be a 20-mile walk, and sometimes anything too stodgy at lunchtime can be hard work to walk off. Having said that, if there had been an intriguing dark beer, then I might have ordered the cod and chips. But there wasn’t, so I didn’t.

    I have no idea.

    This is a perfectly pleasant pub, it’s got a charm to it and the owners are quite honest in their responses to TripAdvisor reviews. I like the:

    “One of the chefs has chosen an alternative place to work where the pressure is less and better for his nerves.”

    and:

    “A new chapter has begun with the return of Patron Chef, Giles Cunliffe, who is very personable and often ‘out front’ happy to be in touch with his customers and not hiding in the kitchen!”

    and I like the honesty with this response to one long-winded review:

    “Paragraphs make for easier reading…”

    I appreciate responses that are to the point and answer the question. Some chains insist with posting responses such as ‘all your feedback is really important to us’ and then some bland and dull apology. Anyway, all very relaxing and a peaceful way to spend 45 minutes.

  • Swaffham – Snailspit Farm

    Swaffham – Snailspit Farm

    I misread this farm’s name at first and it’s probably evident what I thought the sign said. It’s actually derived from Snail’s Pit, a local lake.

  • Shingham – St. Botolph’s Church

    Shingham – St. Botolph’s Church

    There isn’t much to Shingham and it has been a little subsumed into Beachemwell now, but its glorious church has remained. The above photo was taken from the main road (I say main road, but it’s not exactly the Las Vegas Strip) and I’ve no idea why the church is stuck back there. The land in the foreground wasn’t part of the church’s land even a century ago and was just part of the field.

    It’s not known when the church was built, some histories suggests the thirteenth and others suggest the fourteenth centuries.

    There’s something about this beautiful south door which to my very untrained eye just feels like the church is twelfth or thirteenth century. I hadn’t realised at the time that John Sell Cotman greatly appreciated this door and it’s pleasing to see the arch is still as he drew it nearly 200 years ago, with nothing dropped off.

    The church was redundant by the mid-nineteenth century, as there simply weren’t enough people in the local area to support it. The thatched roof had mostly fallen in by the late nineteenth century and the walls were in a bad state of repair by this time. However, there was a saviour, money was raised at the beginning of the twentieth century to repair the church, to put an iron roof on, to re-plaster the walls and to fix the broken floor. All of the work was completed in just five weeks in early 1904, an impressive effort.

    Despite the restoration in 1904, not much had ever really changed with the church. The interior had been modernised a bit, but it retained its seventeenth-century pulpit and communion rails, as well as having some medieval benches. Unfortunately, the church is nearly never open now, so it’s hard to see inside. But, very little was ever added to this church, so although the roof isn’t really entirely in keeping with the structure, it feels like little else has changed here over the last millennium.

    A correspondent for the Illustrated London News visited the church in 1892, commenting that “in living memory, the parish clerk was a woman, who led the responses, gave out the hymns, knocked the boys on the head during the service when necessary, and in the absence of the rector, prepared the young parishioners for confirmation”. No wonder the boys stopped going…..

  • Fakenham – The Old Fire Station (Heritage Trail 26)

    Fakenham – The Old Fire Station (Heritage Trail 26)

    Since I was back in Fakenham today, I thought I’d tick off a few more heritage trail sights. Not that I took much care in this, I meandered about until I had found a few, it’s more exciting that way to stumble across stuff.

    Some care has gone into this fire station building at Hall Staithe, which was constructed out of brick in 1911 (the fire station, not the staithe). The cars parked in front make it a little harder to see the building clearly, but it was clearly a functional structure. Well, functional for the height of fire engines at the time, probably not quite so useful for the current ones.

    The decorative effort that has gone into the building and the heritage trail sign is also visible, noting that both then and now, the fire station is manned by volunteers. The new replacement fire station is much larger and it’s now located on Norwich Road in the town.

    The heritage trail’s web-site has some glorious photos of how it used to look when it was in use.

  • Acle – St. Edmund’s Church (Robert Aldous Faulke)

    Acle – St. Edmund’s Church (Robert Aldous Faulke)

    This grave stands out in the churchyard because of its design, but it was the content that was the saddest, the death of a five-month old boy. Robert Aldous Faulke was baptised in the church on 13 September 1860 and he was the son of Robert Cooper Faulke and Anna Maria Faulke. Robert Cooper Faulke worked as a miller and farmer, employing three men and one boy, looking after 98 acres. There must have been some wealth, as the cost of such a headstone would have been relatively substantial.

    Robert died on 20 February 1861 and was buried on 25 February 1861 and the bottom of his beautiful gravestone reads “he died for Adam sinned, he lives for Jesus died”. It must have made for a painful census for the family, as the 1861 national register was taken on 7 April, just a few weeks after the death of Robert. One notable thing is that the census lists 7-month old Fanny Elizabeth as the only child, which made me realise that Robert was a twin (I had otherwise missed that his sister was baptised on the same day).