Walking. Gossip. Travel.

Tag: Norwich

  • Norwich – Earlham Cemetery (Thomas Alfred Tyrrell)

    Norwich – Earlham Cemetery (Thomas Alfred Tyrrell)

    This is the war grave of Thomas Alfred Tyrrell, buried in the older military graves area of Earlham Cemetery. The volume of records that remain about an individual varies so much, there is nearly nothing on some poor souls, whereas for others the documentation is extensive. And this is so for Thomas, whose military records remain intact from his service during and before the First World War.

    Thomas was born in Dereham in 1877, the son of John Tyrrell and Mary Ann Tyrrell. After briefly working in the shoe industry, he signed up (being given the service number 4080) to join the military on 29 September 1894, opting for a short service option of seven years with colors and five years in the reserves. It was noted at Thomas’s medical that he was 5’4″ in height, he weighed 9.3 stone, had brown eyes and dark brown hair.

    During his service (and he served with the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Norfolk Regiments), Thomas served in Calcutta (now Kolkata) and Barrackpore in India, amongst many other locations. I’m fascinated by what he and other soldiers would have made of that experience, but as an adventure, I think it must have been one of the most exciting possible for someone without any other financial means at the time. Otherwise, for those from Norfolk, it would likely be employment as an agricultural labourer or in the shoe industry.

    Thomas left the military in early 1907, but he signed up again to serve in Section D of the Army Reserves on 1 July 1907. He had married on 24 June 1907, although this was pre-planned and he didn’t hate the situation so much that he immediately to enlist again. He married Ethel Georgina (born on 31 December 1889) at St. Paul’s Church in Norwich, now sadly demolished, and she was ten years younger than him. Their first child was born on 18 February 1908, Alfred Thomas.

    At the 1911 census, Thomas, his wife and his son were all living at 2 White Entry Yard, which was located just off Bull Close. As a little aside, this would have been very convenient for the Leopard and Plasterer’s, as well as three other nearby pubs which were open when Thomas was living there.

    Thomas was discharged on 26 January 1915, being declared as “physically unfit for war service” and he had experienced numerous illnesses and ailments during his time in the military. This included a period at the Cliff Hospital in Felixstowe between 17 and 27 November 1914, suffering with rheumatism.

    More of a technicality I understand, but under the Military Service Act of 1916, Thomas was called in once again on 19 July 1916 and given a new service number, 20999. He served at home between then and 15 December 1916, before being discharged again. During this time he became a father for a second time, with Ethel Violet being born on 29 August 1916. By now he had moved to 5 Compass Street, located off King Street, now directly underneath Normandie Tower. He had returned to work as a boot maker and his military records show that he had served in total for 18.5 years.

    Thomas died on 14 August 1920 and this would have been linked to an injury caused during military service. What is puzzling is that the grave notes he was aged 41, which is incorrect by two or three years. Errors aren’t uncommon, but the details of these stones were usually checked with family members, but perhaps a mistake or omission was made.

    At the beginning of the Second World War, the mother and daughter, both named Ethel, were living in the same location on Compass Street. The younger Ethel had married as her surname was Baker, and she worked as a cardboard box maker, living until 2007. Thomas’s wife, Ethel Georgina, died in Norwich in 1975, which was 55 years after her husband.

  • Norwich – A New Public Cemetery at Mousehold Heath (1848)

    Norwich – A New Public Cemetery at Mousehold Heath (1848)

    Thanks to Google and archive.org, this short book from 1848 is available on-line. The book contains a proposal to turn land at Mousehold Heath into a cemetery, something which wasn’t enacted, although Earlham Cemetery opened in 1856 to deal with the issues raised in this book.

    The author of this book isn’t given, but it was addressed to the Lord Bishop of Norwich, who was then Edward Stanley. The author painted a clear picture of the situation in Norwich churchyards at the time:

    “In many of the Norwich churchyards the soil is now almost level with the windows; piled up four, five or six feet above the original surface with the ashes of the dead, which are allowed to lie undisturbed for a period far too short for total decay of the corpse and its tenement”.

    That’s not an ideal situation and nor was the outbreak of cholera in 1848, which strengthened the author’s case. Indeed, the Home Secretary actually forced the council’s hands, saying that churchyard burials in Norwich must stop by 1855 because of the cholera issue.

    The author of the book suggested:

    “There is lying, hardly beyond the precincts of Norwich, within half a mile of the Cathedral, a tract of land, which I can hardly be wrong in stating as comprising from 100 to 200 acres, not only uncultivated but wholly unproductive; bearing only thorns and briers; the stones and gravel extending to the very surface”.

    He added that the owners of the land, who were the Church of England, had granted permission for it to be used, but they wanted in recompense:

    “Funds to be appropriated towards the establishment and maintenance of a National School in the neglected, and wellnigh near heathen, district of Pockthorpe”.

    This is a slightly blunt way of describing the area of Pockthorpe…. (it’s around where Norwich Puppet Theatre is, Silver Road and the area at the base of Mousehold Heath).

    The author’s vision of how the new cemetery should turn out was modern and indeed the basis of how the new wave of burial grounds were built. The Rosary Cemetery had already opened by this time, with a chapel and plenty of space allocated for burials. The author noted though the necessity for two rooms to place the dead body before burial, saying a requirement was:

    “Two large rooms for the dead, to which a corpse may be removed shortly after death, till the time of interment; one being set apart for those who have died of a fever or other infectious disease. I would make this a very principal point. Nothing can be more distressing than the state of many a poor man’s family after a death has taken place, and before the body can be interred. I speak only from what I have myself seen in country parishes: often is a man and his wife and a large family of children – some perhaps nearly grown up – living in two rooms, or perhaps even in one, with the corpse of one of its members occupying one out of the two or perhaps three beds, and this perhaps in the hottest weather of summer”.

    There was also an interesting observation about the difference between English graveyards, which the author noted were “little else than a passage leading to it, or a large enclosure overgrown with weeds and rank grass”, compared to European graveyards which were more spacious and were destinations in their own right.

    The proposals for this cemetery were that it should be primarily for the Church of England, along the lines of Mill Road Cemetery in Cambridge where each parish received its own chunk of land. When Earlham Cemetery was opened, there was though much more room provided for dissenters. So, although the burial needs of the city of Norwich were resolved in the 1850s, this was an interesting proposal. There had been suggestions of using Mousehold Heath as a site for burials since the late eighteenth century, proposals which were never enacted.

  • Norwich – The Norwich Plan for Downtown Restoration

    Norwich – The Norwich Plan for Downtown Restoration

    Norwich Plan for Downtown Restoration (in .pdf format)

    Back in the late 1950s, Magdalen Street in Norwich saw a piece of urban renewal that became known throughout the world. The above PDF document (courtesy of archive.org) is a short book of how that came about, with the publishing element of the project being backed by Norwich Union.

    It was quite an inspired project which received the support of nearly all the property owners along Magdalen Street. The street was tidied up in terms of signage and clutter, with shopkeepers and property owners smartening up their buildings as well. The Civic Trust did a fine job, also ensuring that historic buildings were protected and that people became proud of their local area. A new park was formed, buildings were painted and thought was given to the placement of noticeboards and electricity boxes.

    The document above was issued to inspire and encourage cities around the world to undertake similar projects. It showed that the Norwich project hadn’t cost that much money, but had seen many benefits. The book concluded that “this can make a community a better place in which to live and work”.

    Incidentally, the foot-note to this was that just over ten years later, Norwich City Council built a flyover through the middle of the project, knocked down several of the buildings and destroyed the character of Magdalen Street. The chaos that they caused is still problematic today, as no-one is quite sure what to do with Anglia Square. It wouldn’t perhaps be a bad idea for the council to look back at this project at what can be achieved when the community works together on a scheme.

  • Norwich – General Regulations of the Bethel Hospital in 1861

    Norwich – General Regulations of the Bethel Hospital in 1861

    Bethel Hospital Regulations (in .pdf format)

    The above PDF file (thanks to archive.org and the Wellcome Library) is the General Regulations of the Bethel Hospital in Norwich which were issued in 1861. They’re surprising forward looking to what I had expected, although still regimented as might be expected from a Victorian institution. It was noted that staff should not “strike the patients or speak harshly to them”, but should be “kind and indulgent”.

    On the last page of the document are the meals that were expected to be served to the patients, which weren’t ungenerous. Women were generally allowed the same menu as the men, although they weren’t to be given as much of it.

    The milk broth for breakfast was commonplace at the time, although it’s not something you see in many restaurants and hotels today. Or not the ones that I go to anyway. Wednesdays don’t sound too bad, the evening meal was either sausages, potatoes and beer, or, a sausage roll, potatoes and beer. Indeed, beer is provided on a regular basis, although not in large quantities, but extra was given to patients helping with the washing, laundry and in the workshop. I’m not sure that patients in the N&N get to do the washing and laundry today, although perhaps some would help if there was beer provided for their assistance.

    There was the bonus of roast beef and plum pudding on Christmas Day, although even then the plum pudding term was misleading and that would be what we call Christmas Pudding today. For that week there were also mince pies and cake, so perhaps not that much has changed over the last 160 years. On Shrove Tuesday, there was also coquilles, which were effectively Hot Cross Buns without the cross.

    Incidentally, I’m not quite sure what the male patients were encouraged to do during their recovery, but the document notes that the women should be “encouraged to occupy themselves in needle and household work”. Men and women were encouraged to take the air though, and to also read wholesome books and periodicals.

  • Greater Anglia : London Liverpool Street to Norwich

    Greater Anglia : London Liverpool Street to Norwich

    The Prime Minister hadn’t quite made his latest announcement (or u-turn if you prefer) by the time that I was about to board the 13:30 Greater Anglia train back to Norwich from London Liverpool Street. But, when that statement was made, it was effectively saying that London was now entering Tier 4 and that from midnight the residents of the city shouldn’t leave the area. Things appear to have gotten worse with a new virulent strain of the virus, which is not ideal at all.

    There were reports in some elements of the media that there were huge flurries of Londoners rushing out to the countryside, although that appears to have been dismissed by the rail companies who said few trains were actually full. Either way, the train that I was on didn’t seem particularly busy, so I had a block of four seats around a table to myself for the journey. And, for those who note my annoyance on this matter when Stansted Express trains are pushed into service, this train did actually have tables. I bought my ticket over a week ago, another bargain priced £10 advance single fare.

    The most interesting part of the journey for me was annoyance at myself for either being asleep or not paying attention, I can’t remember which (and couldn’t at the time, so I was probably asleep) whilst pulling into what I think was Manningtree station. The driver made a furious announcement, although made professionally, that he had been forced to sound the train’s horn as he nearly hit a passenger’s bag which was being carried so near to the platform as to have actually been mostly off of it. The driver said several times, in excess of four, that the person responsible was a male, in carriage D and with a duffel bag. I was positively disappointed not to be in the carriage as otherwise I could have looked and tutted, to show my British displeasure, at this act of idiocy. I say idiocy, as that’s what the driver called it, along with other words.

    Anyway, I quite liked that the driver made his coffee order over the announcement system and that the refreshment team made one back, apologising for not having the biscuit he wanted. It was sufficiently light hearted to add some humanity back to the journey and I think it calmed the annoyed driver down.

    And here we are back in Norwich, on time and that really is the end of my travel for 2020. I didn’t think in early November that I’d be travelling again in 2020, but this twelve-night stay in London was worthwhile and interesting. What I’m more disappointed about now is that travel in early 2021 is looking effectively impossible. I’m likely to cancel my trip to Bilbao, whereas British Airways have already cancelled my trips to Lisbon and Dublin. I can’t imagine that I’ll be going to Inverness or Palma either, which are both in January, although haven’t yet been cancelled by British Airways.

  • Greater Anglia : Norwich to London Liverpool Street

    Greater Anglia : Norwich to London Liverpool Street

    Norwich station now that travel has been opened up again, the 11:00 service to London. The railway station wasn’t particularly busy, but there were plenty of staff available. This was a £10 fare booked directly with Greater Anglia, but I only seemed to be able to get a ticket downloaded to my phone rather than a paper ticket.

    The train was ready and waiting on the platform, and, it still looks beautiful.

    And then I realised this is one of Greater Anglia’s Stansted Express trains, dumped onto the mainline between Norwich and London. I don’t like these trains as there are no tables, so people have to prop laptops and food on their laps and it just leads to drink spillages and people putting their feet on the seats. Unbelievably, or at least to me, Greater Anglia say the reason is “it makes the carriages feel very open and spacious”. I’m really not convinced that customers prefer it like this, but, even if Stansted customers hate tables then there’s always the risk that the trains get used elsewhere. Like on this journey.

    Anyway, moan over, I expect this was another one of Jamie Burles’s little ideas.

    The train remained pretty quiet until near London. As it’s the train from Stansted, there’s no buffet car, but there was a trolley service for customers. For the first time in months, the conductors are checking tickets again, which I think surprised a few customers. One didn’t have their railcard, but after much debate, the conductor decided that this wasn’t a problem. I’m not sure why he made it a problem in the first place, but I quite enjoy drama like that.

    And safely into London. The train broke down for 13 minutes at Diss, but they were able to make up much of that time, which annoyed me again as I was hoping for a delay repay claim, although it was handy to arrive nearly on time. Anyway, the next debacle then starts as Greater Anglia’s lovely new ticketing system doesn’t work, so there’s a queue of customers who have to have their tickets on phones checked manually by gate staff. Lesson learned for me, I’ll get a paper ticket next time…..

  • Norwich – Earlham Cemetery (Alan George Gibling)

    Norwich – Earlham Cemetery (Alan George Gibling)

    This is the war grave of Alan George Gibling, located at Earlham Cemetery in the main area and not within the military section. I can’t find out anything about his period in the First World War itself, but the story here (for me anyway) is that this is the first time I’ve submitted a request for the CWGC to change information on their web-site.

    But, going back a bit, Alan was born on 3 June 1896, the son of George Joseph Gibling and Ellen Gibling (nee Dix). At the 1901 census, he was living with his parents and his brother John Charles and his sister Margaret Ellen, as well as a servant Baldry Gibling, although it’s confusing why she shared the same surname with no obvious family links. They lived at 191 College Road in the city and Alan was educated at Avenue Road School and then at the City of Norwich School between 1 September 1908 and 20 July 1912.

    At the 1911 census, the family were still living in the same property and this time the family has been joined by Geoffrey Dix, with the servant now 19-year old Alice Nichols. This census also reveals that George and Ellen lost one child at some point during their marriage.

    Alan’s war records seem to have been lost in the fire during the Second World War, as so many were, but he joined the Norfolk Regiment, but I’m not sure whether or not he would have seen active service. Alan died on home soil on 17 October 1915 at the age of 19.

    Back to the CWGC, the record on their web-site lists him as Allen George, and I wonder whether someone has looked at his mother’s name and got muddled up. Mistakes are not uncommon due to the challenging way that the information was gathered around a century ago, with the CWGC noting they make changes to their database most days based on details provided. All of the other war details, mentions on war memorials, his school records and censuses have him listed as Alan George. I was going to just leave the CWGC record incorrect rather than spend time compiling the evidence that they required, but it seemed the right thing to do for Alan’s permanent record to be correct.

    Although we’ll likely now find out that I’ve misunderstood something and no change is needed, but we shall see….

  • Norwich – Earlham Cemetery (Valorous John Wright)

    Norwich – Earlham Cemetery (Valorous John Wright)

    This is the war grave of Valorous John Wright, buried in the older military graves area of Earlham Cemetery. Incidentally, my photo of this grave is at an angle as there’s a big bush in front of it.

    Valorous is a wonderful name and it’s because he was born on HMS Valorous, a Royal Navy paddle frigate built in 1851, on 24 December 1866. He went to North Road Boys /Steynton School at Milford Haven and his school records remain from 1878 and 1879.

    As is this document which I very much like about the school’s progress and the students clearing off home, with Valorous mentioned at the bottom.

    At the 1881 census, Valorous was living with his mother, Mary Jane Wright, at Robert Street in Steynton, his father having already died. There were two lodgers in the property as well with Valorous and his mother, Richard Wakeham and William Tinkham.

    He joined the army at Pembroke Dock on 14 June 1883 at the age of 16, although he declared on his form that he was 18 years and 5 months old. He asked to join the Royal Welsh Fusiliers and his medical was the next day and magically he declared his age to be 19. The records show that he was 5’6″ in height and weighed 8.7 stone.

    During his time in the army, Valorous married Martha Huggins on 10 September 1896 at the Church of St. Ethelreda in Norwich. At the 1891 and 1901 censuses, Valorous was away in the army, whilst his wife Martha was living with her father John Huggins, on King Street in 1891 and at 54 Argyle Street in 1901.

    Whilst in the army, Valorous fought in South Africa, but was mostly stationed in the UK and he was uninjured in battle during his service. He was promoted to Colour Sergeant on 25 February 1900, moving to the Norfolk Regiment on 27 February 1906 and then leaving the military entirely on 31 July 1909.

    Valorous died on 11 December 1910 at the age of 43, leaving his wife who was ten years younger than him, with his burial being on 17 December 1910. During their final year the couple lived at 115 Sprowston Road, a house perhaps more notable today for being opposite the rather lovely Brewery Tap pub. But, my favourite part of this story is really the name, and I think it’s not unusual for people born at sea to be named after the boat that they are on.

  • Norwich – Earlham Cemetery (Robert Love Gracie)

    Norwich – Earlham Cemetery (Robert Love Gracie)

    This is the war grave of Robert Love Gracie, buried in the older military graves area of Earlham Cemetery. Robert was a Canadian who born on 9 March 1893, the son of Elizabeth Gracie. The real story behind this post is though the excellent state of the Canadian archives, all freely accessible and with substantial documentation retained for members of their armed forces. Robert’s war records are 78 pages long and contain more information about his medical condition than anyone could perhaps ever need to know.

    Robert was single and he worked as a clerk at Eaton’s department stores, living at 124 Hogarth Avenue in Toronto, a property which is still there, and he had a brother and two sisters. We know from his sign-up medical that he was 5’8″, had a dark complexion, had brown eyes, black hair and declared his religious belief to be Presbyterian. Robert was given the service number 404091 and he joined the 14th Battalion of the Canadian Infantry.

    On 4 June 1915, Robert sailed from Montreal to the UK on the SS Metagama, a new cruise ship which the Canadian military had requisitioned as a troop carrier. He remained in the UK until 20 January 1916, when he sailed to Le Havre and from there he was sent to the front line with his unit on 2 February 1916.

    I wonder when writing these wills what the soldiers thought, as Canada at this stage didn’t have conscription, so Robert signed up voluntarily. Robert was placed on the front line for the first time on 2 February 1916, but on 9 March 1916, he was seriously injured with shrapnel wounds to his right hand and his right leg.

    He was taken to a field hospital on 9 March and an operation was undertaken and x-rays were also taken, which has survived in the archive. I don’t know what I’m looking at here to be honest, but on 13 March it was decided that Robert needed to be returned to a hospital in England.

    The above is his temperature chart for the time that he was at the field hospital.

    The hospital that Robert was sent to was the Norfolk War Hospital in Thorpe (St. Andrew’s Hospital) and on 15 March he was seen by the doctors there. It was noted that a shell had blown off some of his fingers and the stump of his hand had gone septic. His knee and leg were very swollen and there was a penetrating wound to the upper part of his calf.

    On 16 March, the doctors noted that Robert’s leg remained very swollen, but by 19 March, although the swelling was going down, he remained in a poor condition. However, on 20 March, Robert suffered from a secondary haemorrhage and his leg was amputated at the thigh, where it was discovered that his thigh muscles were riddled with pus. Unfortunately, at 10:45 on the 20 March 1916, Robert died at the age of 23.

    The authorities seemed to take care of providing a suitable burial, checking if his next of kin wanted his body returning to Canada. He was buried at Earlham Cemetery, a long way from home, at 14:30 on Friday 24 March 1916, with a contingent from the military and a bugler present.

    And it’s not often that there are photos available of those who died in the First World War, but this is Robert. I don’t know why he wanted to serve in the army, whether it was because he felt it was his patriotic duty or whether he wanted adventure. But, he joined at a time when it was clear that the war wasn’t going to be over quickly and he would have been aware of the loss of lives that was taking place. Either way, he seems like a hero to me.

  • Norwich – Earlham Cemetery (David McSweeny)

    Norwich – Earlham Cemetery (David McSweeny)

    This is one of the earliest graves in the old military burial area at Earlham Cemetery in Norwich. This story particularly interested me as the funeral was so well covered in the local press that it gave me quite a picture of what the burial must have been like.

    It’s not clear whether it’s David McSweeny or David McSweeney, I suspect it’s the latter, although the grave uses the former spelling. He was born in around 1839 and he joined the military in 1858, serving in the 7th Queen’s Own Hussars and he had reached the rank of Paymaster Sergeant.

    It is the death of David that received much local press attention, including the inquest and the burial of his body. On the evening of 24 June 1875, he was in a rowing boat with his friend David Couper and they were nearby to St. Anne’s Staithe in Norwich (pretty much opposite the Queen of Iceni, nearby to the new St. Anne’s housing development) when a steamer hit them. David’s body was pulled out of the water a few minutes later, but he was already dead, aged just 36.

    A coroner’s court took place in July 1875 at the Cinder Oven pub on King Street, in Norwich (a building now demolished, but it once jutted on to the city wall near to the Carrow Bridge boom tower). The Deputy Coroner heard evidence from numerous witnesses, but there was confusion as to how David had fallen into the water and died. Captain Thompson from the army said “it seemed rather odd that no-one appeared to see the deceased get into the water”.

    One of the witnesses was WR L’Estrange, a brewer at the Bullards brewery, who said that there was no need for David to have jumped into the water as he would have been safe given the low speed of the steamer. When asked, he put his decision to jump as being “out of terror”. Captain Thompson confirmed that David hadn’t drunk alcohol for 15 years as he was tee-total, so a poor decision due to drink was ruled out, and he also confirmed that David was able to swim. The whole thing was a bit of a mystery and a verdict of accidental drowning was given.

    David wasn’t married, but the non-commissioned officers clubbed together to pay for a headstone for him, a rather lovely gesture. And this is how the Norfolk News reported David’s funeral:

    “On Monday afternoon, the remains of the Sergeant were interred at the Norwich Cemetery. The firing party was followed by the body of the deceased borne on a gun-carriage, the coffin being covered by a velvet pall upheld at the sides by six Sergeants of the regiment. Next came deceased’s charger, followed by the men of the troop. The military procession was succeeded by three mourning-coaches containing the relatives and friends of the deceased, who was unmarried. The bands of the regiment played a dead march, and several thousand persons assembled to watch the mournful procession on its route to the place of burial”.

    The thought of that number of people watching and paying their respects is quite a picture to build up in the mind. The backdrop to this though is that the military were held in high repute by most locals and the period when David died was one where there were relatively few British military deaths. Over 10,000 had lost their lives in the Indian Rebellion in the 1850s, but the next major loss of life wasn’t until the late 1870s with the Second Anglo-Afghan War and the Anglo-Zulu War.

    This does all mean that although David died relatively young at 36, his death was at least marked with respect and dignity.