Some photos from the Anglia Square demolition from 10 March 2026.




Some photos from the Anglia Square demolition from 10 March 2026.





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.

And some photos of the demolition of Anglia Square….






And a little video…. I know that there some rather better quality videos and photos being uploaded elsewhere, but I’m not letting that stop me.


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.


Another another article from 200 years ago this week in the Norwich Mercury from 1826.
“Sir,
In no part of the kingdom is careless driving carried on to so great an extent as in the neighbourhood of this city—and permit me (through the medium of your widely circulating paper) to caution the public against such dangerous practices, as I am determined, as far as lies in my power, to put a stop to them. As a single proof of the extent to which careless driving is carried to, I can assure you, Mr. Editor, that in the short distance of one mile and a half, in the parish of Wymondham, I saw no less than five men riding in their waggons, out of which number four were at full trot. I am determined to lay informations against every person I find offending.
Your most obedient Servant,
W. WILSON.
Bank Place, Norwich.”
Some things never change, whether men have access to carts or cars, some will speed…..


And back to 200 years ago this week in Norwich….
“NORFOLK LUNATIC ASYLUM : The Visiting Justices of this Establishment have long had reason to complain that several of the PATIENTS sent to the Asylum have been, at the time of their removal, in a state of dangerous Illness, and some of them actually in a Dying condition, who have not survived their admission but a very few days; and a case has recently occurred where a Female Lunatic was removed from a considerable distance, in the last stage of Disease, who died within two days after her reception into the House, the Visiting Justices therefore think it incumbent upon them to caution Overseers against these unjustifiable proceedings in future, as upon a repetition of such conduct legal measures will be resorted to for the punishment of the Offenders.
Dated this 28th day of February, 1826.
W. SIMPSON,
Treasurer of the Asylum.”
And here’s the early welfare state system in action, where money has been raised to look after those with mental health issues at an asylum, but local parishes have been sending whoever they can to stop them being a problem to them.
The overseers in these parishes were tasked with managing the poor laws, although there wasn’t a great deal of money around and there was already some tension about who should be funding this. And there were extreme financial pressures as unemployment was rising, populations were rising and suffering was increasing. The joining together of parishes to provide workhouses was a handy way of hiding poverty, but I can imagine the keenness of the overseers to use the county asylum as a way of removing people from their parish.
I’ve posted numerous times before about just how bad mental health must have been at this time, they were very regular articles in the press in the 1820s about suicide and self-harm, but in the main, there must have been a lot of people struggling that had nowhere to go for help.
As an aside, the building is what became known as St. Andrew’s Hospital, although it opened in May 1814 as the Norfolk County Asylum. It remained in use as a mental health facility, later becoming part of the NHS in the 1940s, but closed in the 1990s following a move towards care in the community.