THE NATIONAL TRUST IN SUFFOLK
Since I now have a personal interest in the National Trust (they have done me the great favour of publicising my theory on the death of St Edmund in their recent book of Britain’s Landmarks and Legends) I should look favourably on the organisation. However, like many of the elite, the have been infested with wokeness. In this they are no different from most national institutions, but it is a great pity. It is they who have lose out, because I would spend much more time and money on the National Trust if they stuck to their core values.
The glory of the National Trust in Suffolk is undoubtedly Ixworth House, although Flatford Mill is probably the most visited NT site in Suffolk. Flatford was of course made famous by the painter John Constable, who produced his canvas of the mill for exhibition in 1817, the year of his marriage. Flatford mill was operated by his family, and an adjoining dry dock was used to produce and service the barges needed to send the flour downstream to Mistley. There it was transhipped to sea-going vessels for the journey to London, where the flour was need to feed the population. The area around Dedham and East Bergholt was where Constable grew up, and the scenes reminded him of his childhood. Today it is a major tourist attraction.
Dunwich Heath and Beach is an open air facility, with a tearoom near the car park. It is an attractive sight in the summer when the heather and gorse are in flower. Dunwich has a long history, but most of the town has disappeared beneath the waves, and almost all that now remains is a small hamlet with a pebble beach. The ruins of the leper hospital remain, to give you a hint of the grandeur of the port that existed here until three devastating storms in the thirteenth century destroyed the harbour and many of the houses. The town limped along for centuries, periodically suffering further damage from the ever encroaching waves until today in holds just over 100 souls.
JOSEPH MASON
THE BLOG FOR MEMORIES OF EAST ANGLIAN LIFE
WATERMILLS ON THE RIVER GLAVEN
The River Glaven rises from Sellbrigg Pond, an artificial lake to the south of High Kelling; going downstream from its source the first mill encountered is at Hempstead. The headwaters include the reservoir of Sellbrigg Pond, dug out for the purpose. This mill was formerly called Holt Mill, the parish boundary between Holt and Hempstead running down the middle of the river at this point. This mill is still there; until 1905 it was a corn mill driven by a waterwheel. It was then converted to turbine drive, driving a saw on the forecourt of the mill by the Hempstead Road. When I was a schoolboy I often went past the mill and sometimes stopped and looked round the sawbench, but never during weekdays, when it was working. It continued to do so until 1977.
According to the Domesday Book there were 19 mills along the length of the river in 1086. Today there are six, one of them once again water powered. One of these mills which used to exist was on a stream that runs into the river Glaven. This was Hempstead Hall Wade Mill, just below Hempstead Mill on the Edgefield to Hempstead Road. Some brickwork exists in a location called Smokers Hole, where Mill Cottages stood until the 1940s.
| The road from Hempstead to Edgefield passes through Pond Hills. It is partly a field road and as it winds through the wood is one of the most picturesque in the county. In the wood is a pond from which a stream flows into the Glaven forming the second tributary. Just below the junction there was until recently a mill house, which was the site of a watermill. The causeway which formed the mill dam still exists. This is probably the mill referred to in a grant by Simon of Hemsted to the monks of Binham Priory of the water between Hempstead and Edgefield to better the monks’ mill… Basil Cozens-Hardy |
The next mill that we come to in the present era is at Hunworth. This an attractive mill that was built in the mid 18th century; a mill was here in Saxon times with a record of milling dues being paid in the reign of Edward the Confessor. It is constructed of flint, with red brick dressings; the first floor is weatherboarded. The mill was in use until around the time of the Second World War, when it was abandoned and fell into dereliction. It was sold at auction in 1974 with most of its machinery still intact.
Thornage Mill is constructed of red brick under a Norfolk pantile roof. It is not an attractive building, certainly not as picturesque as Hunworth mill, and not even as charming as Hempstead mill. No doubt for this reason it had wait until 1983 to be converted into a private dwelling.
There are two mills in Letheringsett, Letheringsett Mill and the Brewery Mill; they are very close together. The Brewery Mill was set up by William Hardy almost as soon as he had bought the brewery. It was originally intended to deal with the barley, and other brewing processes; you can still see the cowls on the building by the road where the hops were dried. Yet it was not long before he was milling wheat too. It is built of light bricks and flint. After the brewery business was sold to Morgan’s in the last years of the nineteenth century the former maltings were used for the production of soft drinks. Thesewould be circulated from Holt station. This facility was damaged by fire in 1936, after which it was left in the derelict state in which it remains.
The other Letheringsett Mill is a large structure, built of Norfolk Reds under a black pantile roof. It was built in 1802 by Richard Rouse, following a fire that had destroyed its predecessor. This mill continued to be water powered until 1941, but the cog wheels driving the milling machinery were out of alignment for many years, and eventually in that year it was no longer possible to use them. A diesel engine by Ruston and Hornsby was sent down from the factory in Lincoln to Holt Station and transferred y motor lorry to Letherinsett. It worked until 1973, latterly in the production of animal feedstuffs.
In 1984a new water wheel was acquired and the mill returned to use; the grinding of grain recommenced; the mill shop now sells its stone ground flour ground on new grinding stones brought from the Netherlands. Besides selling its own bags of flour it sell flour produced by other local mills; white black, brown and wholemeal flour, spelt and rye bread flour.
The current Glandford Mill was built in 1912 by the freeholder, Sir Alfred Joderell; it was used a corn mill. It is downstream of the ford at Glandford, where the flints used to build the mill were dug up at the gravel pits that were then in use. They could simply be transported down stream. Until the erection of the sluice gate at Cley, seawater was brought up to the mill by the tide on an almost daily basis. However, after the catastrophic floods of 1953 the machinery was destroyed and the building has since been converted into a private dwelling.
JOSEPH MASON
THE BLOG FOR MEMORIES OF NORFOLK
MAY 1981
The month of May began with me and my sister Tiggie on a visit to see friend Bill in Yorkshire. We had arrived in Whitby on the evening of April 30th. It had been a clear blue sky on Thursday, but by Friday May the 1st it was raining. It was still rainy on Monday, the May Day Bank Holiday, and on Tuesday my sister and I returned to Norfolk.
On Wednesday we had a large export order from M. Texier in France; also Lizars paid for their last month’s order. I went to post but sent the Texier order by inland postage by mistake. There I met my fiend David Storey (head of Eaton Primary School and the double bass player in the Mozart Orchestra). On Friday I had a Tax Refund of £100 which I paid into the Building Society. On Saturday I bought some local honey in Newton Flotman.
On Wednesday the 13th I was dropped off at the livestock market to attend the auction, but the lots were so rubbishy that I got my sister come and pick me up. I went back in the afternoon and bid up to £9 for violin. It went for £19 in the end, too expensive for me but at least I got practice in bidding. At Thorpe library I got out my current favourite novelist’s autobiography (Anthony Powell) but I think I have already read it.
On Sunday we went to Southwold and had a drink at the Lord Nelson before visiting the Sailor’s Reading Room. On Sunday we had a fish supper; I had trout, while Tiggie had a bloater which was passed over the hedge by Mrs Matthews. On Monday morning we discovered that our car had been rifled through by a thief in the night; this is very unusual, or we would not have left the car unlocked. Tig thought her plimsols had gone, but they had only been moved; the one thing we missed was a packet of potpourri. We were careful to lock the car when we left it to walk the dogs at Maston Lane – it had three violins inside!
On Thursday the 21st of May I re-haired the cello bow, tuned it and then spent some time playing the instrument. (I found a copy of the Piatti cello tutorial in the cupboard.) I also glued up the bass where the table was loose. My latest project is to make myself a viola d’amore, and as a first step I drew up a plan.(This was as far as I got with the project.) I spent most of my time practicing my double-bass.
On Monday the 25th I went up to the top floor of 29 Surrey Street and found that the roof ha been leaking again. However I cannot find any damp patches in the attic. I had to cut a piece of wood to size for alterations to the the kitchen door; the circular saw came in handy for this. I had to take the door off to get a good fit – the Surform was just the thing for this; luckily I had the tool I needed. Then I nailed two bits together. We called at the Feathers in Framingham Pigot for a drink on the way home for lunch. It is still cold enough to need the fire lit, and I sat by it and wrote a long letter to Bill. We picked some wild mushrooms which we will have fried.
My sister Tig received £100 from our sister Christine in Canada, for her rapidly approaching birthday. She went out to the Building Society to pay this in. We had a caller who wanted to buy a magnifier, but we had run out, having sold our entire stock and readied them for dispatch; I had to unpack one that was ready to be posted! We had another sales lead from the Electronics Times; we have had plenty of these, but no sales!
I had news of the summer meeting of the Oxford Society, which will be held at the Bishop of Lynn’s house in Ranworth. For next month’s recital at Holkham Hall that Beverley and I are due to attend our tickets have arrived, we will be sitting in row C.
JOSEPH MASON
THE BLOG FOR MEMORIES OF EAST ANGLIAN LIFE
THE G.P.O., NORWICH
During the 1950s and 60s the GENERAL POST OFFICE, or “THE GENERAL” as it as universally known, dominated Agricultural Hall Plain. The impressive frontage of Hardwick House (the official name of the bulding) was the entrance to the General Post Office. This building was designed by Charles Hardwick, an architect who specialised in banks. However his most famous piece of work was the Great Hall of London’s Euston Station (demolished 1962). The Norwich bank was built in 1865 for the Crown Bank of Harvey and Hudson. The bank closed in 1870 when Sir Robert Harvey shot himself, having been involved in a financial scandal. It was then taken over by the Post Office. The Post Office remained for over a century until 1969. There you count ascend the steps to enter the hushed hall. Walking cautiously to the counter you could buy a tu’penny ha’penny stamp for sending a postcard anywhere in the country. Stamps were cheap in those days; the cheap rate for postcards only went up to 3 pence (3d) in 1965. The special lower rate was abolished in 1968, when first and second class mail was introduced. A first class stamp cost 3p, a ha’penny more than a second class stamp.
When the G.P.O. left Hardwick House the property was taken over by Anglia Television studios; before then Crown Road was a thoroughfare that ran between Cattle Market Street and Agricultural Hall Plain. You can see the structure, no more than a corridor to join the two buildings that made up the headquarters of Anglia TV to the right of the picture above.
My father frequently had a number of business letters to post after the last collection had left the local post office branch. This required an evening journey to Hardwick House, where the post was collected up to 11 o’clock. The letter box was hidden away from the grand entrance, being a simple slot in the wall in King Street. The sorting staff were just a few feet away on the other side of the wall. When the Sorting Office moved to Thorpe Road Dad could still catch the last post by going to Norwich Thorpe Station and using the letterbox on the side of the Travelling Post Office carriage. This involved going onto the platform, which would normally involve paying a penny for a platform ticket; however in this case he was allowed to access the TPO without paying the extra 1d by the kindly platform staff.
Before the new Mail Centre was built in Thorpe, Hardwick House was where the ground breaking new postcodes were fist rolled out. The Mail Centre was given the postcode NR1 1AA. This happened in 1959. It differed from the system eventually adopted nationwide. Take for example the postcode of our bungalow; it was NOR 42W. Eventually this was changed to bring it into conformity with current system. The sorting frames in Hardwick House were where this coding was first rolled out, though it stopped well before the final sorting to individual addresses; even when I retired from postal employment in 2009, this was still being carried out manually. The last two letters of the postcode may eventually be used, but even this will not entirely do away with human involvement in the delivery of letters. The postcode will only narrow the letterboxes down to a handful of numbers.
JOSEPH MASON
THE BLOG FOR MEMORIES OF EAST ANGLIAN LIFE
PARISH CHURCH
Our parish church is within walking distance of where we live. In this it differs from the village where I grew up; it would be technically possible to walk to Poringland church, but in the days when people were expected to attend Sunday morning service, Arminghall church would have ben much closer. It is over a mile from the bungalow where I lived. Here, the village in which I was born, the church was at the opposite end of the settlement. Not that this ever concerned me as a lad, because I never went to church anywhere; not to the parish church, nor to any other place of worship. The reasons for this apparent heathenism is complicated, and need not concern us here. I mere observe this as a fact. In all my life I have only attended a service at Poringland parish churchon two occasions. The first was almost forty years ago, when I went to hear my wedding banns read out; and the second occasion was nearly fifteen years ago, for my sister’s funeral service. My church going began in earnest when I was sent to boarding school. There, for over nine years, I attended Chapel four times a week during term time. Therefore my churchgoing experience soon made up for lost time! I even sang in the choir.
Until I was ten I seldom went into a church. Once was for my sister’s wedding (my sister was church-going regular). I may have attended my cousin David Anderson’s wedding in Trowse church, but if so I have completely forgotten all about it. At St Mary’s school in Bungay I attended school prayers where I learnt a garbled version of the Lord’s Prayer. It was read out (rather hurriedly) every morning. It was obviously thought to be self-explanatory, though what it meant was never explained to me by my teachers or my parents, and I had only a dim idea of is meaning. This may be true if the words are expressed clearly in straightforward English, but this was not the case in my world. “Our farmer which art in heaven…” was how I thought it began, and the agricultural theme continued; “harrowed be thy name”. Similarly the only hymns I sang were at Morning Prayers before lessons, and the words of those were equally muddled. My mother tried to read me some passages from the Bible, but they had little effect on my paganism. In being basically a heathen, I suspect I was not that different from many of my contemporaries, and that would be norm today.
That was me until I was ten; by the age of eleven I was an angelic looking chorister, attending services every Sunday, choir practice and saying Prayers not only in the morning, but Evening Prayers as well. That was my term time existence; during the school holidays I reverted to my former ways of Godlessness. This was the result of being sent to board at the prep department of a Public School, whose distinctive motto was: “Al Worship be to God only”. As you will have noticed there is an apparent spelling mistake in what I have written, because there is only one ‘ell’ in the word ALL. When it was first written down (hundred of years ago) the language was more fluid in its spelling, and the doubling of consonants was optional.
The upshot has been that from a childhood free of any hint of litany, anthems or sermons, I went on to an adolescence that was crammed full with them. My original subject was the parish church, to which I will now return.
The parish church in our present home village has stood there for about a thousand years, since the time of Edward the Confessor; its age is sadly one of its main attractions to me. I ought to have my mind on higher things. If I were a Roman Catholic I would be reduced to attending a ‘modern’ church (i.e. 200 years old or less), in this country at least. But I am not a Roman Catholic, nor an Anglican either come to that. As a result of the parental divisions alluded to in an earlier blog, I have never been baptised. It is not essential to undergo this ritual at a young age; indeed some sects like Baptists insist that one waits until an age of discernment before undertaking this commitment. I do not think that baptism has ever been an ordinance of Quakerism. Yet being welcomed into the church before you have any conscious awareness has its advantages. When you are old enough, you may decide if you believe in God or not; or you may be completely flummoxed by the whole thing. How much simpler to be enrolled as an infant and not have consciously to submit oneself to these strange rituals. As you may have gathered, that is a conviction I have yet to make. Maybe before the Grim Reaper comes calling to gather me up I will have taken the plunge; but probably he will beat me to it.
JOSEPH MASON
THE BLOG FOR MEMORIES OF EAST ANGLIA
DOUBLE DECKER BUSES
Bus travel differs from coach travel. Coaches are meant to be more comfortable than buses in having high backed seats, but the legroom is very restricted. In Britain the double-decker bus remains a popular method of mass commuter transport. As horse drawn omnibuses, double-deckers first appeared in London in 1847 but they became almost universal there by the first years of the 20th century.
With the ending of the First World War a large number of ex-army trucks were unloaded onto the civilian market, and this in turn led to the motorised omnibus. The first double-deckers were draughty affairs; on the lower deck it was reasonably possible to keep warm, but the to floor was open to the sky. At least the passenger had only a limited distance to travel, but the bus driver had a long shift with little to protect him from the elements; in this respect he was in a similar situation to the first railway engine drivers, but at least they had the warmth of the firebox to counteract the worst of the winter weather.
Bus travel has become rather more acceptable from the human point of view. Over sixty years ago, when I was a lad, the driver had already been enclosed in a snug (if as yet unheated) cab, but the conductor (who still a part of the crew) had to stand on the rear platform that was still open to the eddying currnts of air drawn up by the passing bus. It must have been a bit chilly for the passengers sitting above the rear wheels too, but I never remember feeling cold as I made my way homewards after school.
The bus is still not a very relaxing mode of transport; the pile on the seating is certainly rather less attractive on a 2024 bus than it was on a 1954 model. The windows rather just much and the diesel engine is equally noisy. The engine itself may have migrated from the front to the back and likewise the point of entry, but these details do not affect my pleasure or otherwise. It is certainly more accessibleor the disabled. I liked the business of counting out my small change for te purchase of a ticket, but Imust admit that payment by card is simpler.
Double-decker buses have been favoured over articulated buses in the UK, although worldwide these articulated buses are entirely on one level. They offer more room for disabled passengers, luggage and pushchairs but they are longer. However it may be safer to operate a double-decker than an articulated bust through the narrow streets often experience in English cities and round tight corners they are preferable. This applies to the majority of UK double-deckers which are between 31 feet and 36 feet in length, although there are three axle models in service that are 39 feet long.
Double-deckers have been used in Australia, particularly in Sydney and Melbourne, but not with the enthusiasm shown in this country. The same is true of many former British colonies, except Hong Kong where they are as popular as in London.
JOSEPH MASON
THE STORY OF ROAD TRANSPORT
THOUGHTFULNESS
The word thoughtfulness has two meanings. According to the dictionary one is ‘careful attention’ or ‘the state of being absorbed in thought’. The other use is ‘care for people’ or ‘consideration for the needs of others’; both are positive attributes. You might imagine that the similar word mindfulness (which at first glance seems much the same) also has positive connotations, but on the contrary it is a woolly and confusing epithet, used by therapists and similar practitioners to signify some vague position that is ill defined. One definition of mindfulness is ‘a technique you can learn which involves noticing what’s happening in the present moment, without judgement’; another is ‘the state of being conscious or aware of something’: you see what I mean; the very fact that is takes many more word to explain the word suggests potential uncertainty. Even the dictionary definition is revealing: ‘being aware of something‘ can only signify vagueness. In this blog I hope to concentrate on the more definite aspects of the first word I mentioned: thoughtfulness.
I wonder if most people use the full potential of their brains to a great extent? Clearly I do not include the readers of this blog in this disparaging category – they are all highly intelligent and involve their brain power constantly, naturally. I might say that the bulk of humanity cannot think at all, but that would be do do them a disservice. I am sure that most people could come to novel and constructive conclusions about matters of interest, if they merely put their minds to use. They just need to put aside their pre-conceived notions to embark on this adventure. It is even a suggestion that those of us who continue to use their grey matter are less likely to end up with dementia as a result.
Politics is a fine example of the sort of thing I am talking about. If you belong to a political party you are more or less obliged to accept a rag-bag of policies that are in many cases mutually incompatible. What do I mean by this? The opposition have a raft of policies that are at odds with each other, or at least vague and contradictory. Say for example that Labour has pledged to tackle youth unemployment 9as indeed it has); they also seek to protect those already in work. This can only mean everybody will be better off in terms of employment. Of course it does, but if you prioritize everybody this is the same as prioritizing nobody. If everyone is equally important, no-one can come first. Have the politicians thought this through? Probably not, or if they have they cynically ignore the implications.
But the unthinking way most people go about their daily lives is even deeper than that. Carnivores happily eat meat without worrying too much about the inevitable suffering that must accompany the production of a lamb chop. But vegetarians ought to consider some other issues too. Vegans would have us living entirely on plants, but that does not mean the woolly lambs could happily frisk about on the mountain side, and peaceful cows could graze the meadows. That is not an option; these animals would simply be culled in huge numbers. They would not exist in the bleak landscape of a vegan world, barren of animate life. It is a moot point whether a short life (and hopefully a happy one) is better for an animal than no life at all. These are questions worth asking, but almost no-one appears to be asking them.
And what about the LGBT community? (Add as many letters as you wish at the end of this acronym.) Thoughtfulness is obviously not high on their agenda, but even leaving the funny old concept of morality to one side, what worries me is the lumping together of four separate and very different issues under a single heading. How can same-sex marriages have any relevance to bi-sexual people? What meaning can a same-sex partnership have to a transgender individual? I am really quite unsure what the term ‘transgender woman’ actually denotes, and it has me speculating on surgical arrangements that I would far rather not have to consider. These questions puzzle me (though not a great deal, as they fall so far outside my own experience); yet demands for same-sex marriage (presumably in church, as other kinds are already allowed) are parroted by unthinking campaigners under the LGBT banner. Lesbians and gays I can more or less accept as having a common interest, but not the rest; the only thing that LGBT people have in common is a perceived difference from ‘straight’ people. What boring lives they must lead if they define themselves solely by their sexual proclivity; the rest of us do not think in this way. Most straight people accept their sexuality as a given, and have more pressing things to occupy their minds.
Has this discussion been sufficiently thought provoking? I did not intend to go very deeply into the subject of gender (which to me was formerly a strictly grammatical term) but the recent publication of the CASS REPORT has made it the talking point of the day.
JOSEPH MASON
THE BLOG FOR THOUGHTFUL PEOPLE
WATERMILLS on the RIVER TAS
The source of the river is at TASBURGH in South Norfolk, where a number of tributaries converge to form the river TAS. The watercourse flows northwards in the direction of NORWICH; it has a number of mills along its length. One of the tributaries runs through Flordon, where a mill was situated. This modest mill had only a minor stream to feed it; it was adjacent to the railway however, and this enabled it to add steam power to its unimpressive water power. Nevertheless it was abandoned around 1900, and falling into a state of dereliction it was demolished in the mid 1920s.
Tasburgh mill was bought in 1896 by WILLIAM DUFFIELD, who converted it from a millstones method of grinding to a roller mill. He was made bankrupt in 1916, but as you will see later, this did not end his career as a miller. Newton Flotman was the next mill on the Tas. This is also referred to as Saxlingham mill, as it links the the villages of Newton Flotman and Saxlingham Thorpe where the main A140 road from Norwich to Ipswich crosses the River Tas. This mill is uniquely still in use, producing animal feed for Duffields (remember him?).
Continuing downstream there was a mill in Shotesham by the ford in Mill Lane. The mill was destroyed in 1949, a few years after it had ceased operation; it had been badly damaged by flooding. The only remnant of the mill is the footbridge which enables pedestrians to avoid getting their feet wet in the ford. It had been a particularly picturesque structure.
The next village is Stoke Holy Cross, where the mill still stands, now hosting an up-market restaurant. Over the centuries Stoke Mill has been milling corn, paper, mustard seed and grains for animal feed. It is where Mr Colman first produced mustard powder; this was prior to the railway age, so it was dispatched to London by horse and cart. The business grew and grew; with the advent of rail transport the mustard could be sent from Swainsthorpe station, only a few miles away. Mustard seed arrived at the same station, and coal was unloaded to power the steam engines which augmented the water wheels which were inadequate to drive the machinery required by the rapidly growing business.
Colman’s had hit on a brilliant plan; by producing specialised commodities like mustard powder for roast beef and laundry starch for stiffening collars and cuffs, they could sell the output of their mills for many times the amount that ordinary bread flour would bring in. It need drying and a few other treatments, and was ingeniously packaged, but the extra work was certainly worth doing.
Finally there was a mill at Caistor Saint Edmund; there is no documentary mention of this mill and no illustration of it either, but the presence of two millstones on the river bank by Markshall bridge are the only evidence one needs.
THE SITE OF CAISTOR ST EDMUND’S MILL.
JOSEPH MASON
THE BLOG FOR MEMORIES OF EAST ANGLIAN LIFE
ROUND TOWERED CHURCHES in NORFOLK
NORFOLK is the home of the round towered church. Of the 185 surviving examples in England,123 of these are in Norfolk. There may be disagreement among architectural historians as to why they are concentrated in Norfolk, but the reason seems quite clear to me; as the region furthest from any freestone quarries, the only available building stone was flint. Freestone is the term used to describe a building stone that may be cut in any direction; it is usually a sandstone. It is needed to form the corners of rectangular buildings, so these round structures could be erected without recourse to this expensive building material.
The round towers are most common in South Norfolk, which is poorly served by navigable rivers. This means that any imported freestone was doubly difficult to obtain, because it had to be dragged many miles over land by oxen or horse drawn carts. No wonder the local church builders went instead to the readily available local flint. Along the coast, and adjacent to the rivers Ouse and Yare these round towers are less common. These towers tend to get more ornate as they ascend to the belfry. The final stage may have be hexagonal or octagonal, where the bell openings employ more freestone.
Our local church is one of these round towered buildings. The base is made of flints in their natural state, commonly described as rubble. Further up the stone work is certainly not rubble; the flints are faced an dressed to present a more regular appearance. If you look at the picture at the head of this article you will see that it has an hexagonal belfry. As you may see, this requires a certain amount of freestone. These churches were mostly constructed over a long period of time, sometimes several centuries, and as time went on it became slightly easier to obtain stone for church building.
Even these simple rural churches were extraordinarily complex structures compared to the basic hovels that most peasants inhabited. This fact is obvious from the fact that they still exist a thousand years later. We should all take much more interest and pleasure from these ancient places of worship which dot our countryside.
JOSEPH MASON
THE BLOG FOR MEMORIES OF EAST ANGLIAN LIFE
CROMER LIGHTHOUSE
Shipden was the name of the manor that used to lie the the north of CROMER. The whole village, which was a thriving community at the time of the Domesday Survey, had been devoured by the waves during the 14th century. “Church Rock”, to the east of the end of Cromer Pier, is all that remains of St Peter’s Church, Shipden. Around 1352 the church was abandoned to the advancing sea, and land was purchased about half a mile inland, where a new church was erected; this became CROMER Church of St Peter and St Paul. With the tallest church tower in Norfolk this church became the obvious place to mount a light for returning fishermen to see as they brought their catches home.
Further to the east was Foulness Point, which, despite its proximity to Cromer, was in fact in the parish of Overstrand. There a light had been proposed to guide vessels round the treacherous headland. The building of this lighthouse at Foulness Point was suggested in the 1660s by Sir John Clayton. He was not a local man, being based near London, and the lighthouse at Foulness was but one of four others which he was intending to build along the East Coast of England. This was naturally opposed from the start by the Brethren of Trinity House who claimed the monopoly on lighthouse around Britain, but to little avail. Fortunately for Trinity House and unfortunately for Sir John Clayton, the Royal Warrant was badly worded, and gave grounds for the Letters Patent to be opposed.
In 1676 Clayton announced that the lighthouse had been completed, but Trinity House was still keen to protect its monopoly, and lodged various objections to its being operated. It is hard to see why a light on this North Norfolk promontory would not be seen as an advantage to navigation, but such was the influence of Trinity House that many of the local Seamasters withheld or withdrew their support. A year later Clayton returned his Letters Patent to the King and a fire was never lit in the abandoned tower; it fell into disrepair with the crumbling cliff in the last year of the 17th century.
Despite Trinity House’s apparent lack of interest in providing a light on this Norfolk promontory, there was continuing agitation from the local seamen who would benefit from it. In 1718 a Ipswich based merchant came forward with another proposal. This was not opposed by Trinity House, who retained overall ownership; they granted the proposer a 61 year lease on the lighthouse. The first keepers were two young women who together were paid a pound a week as wages. However the sea kept encroaching rapidly, and in 1799, 1825 and 1852 huge parts of the cliff around the lighthouse slipped down into the sea. The building was finally destroyed by a landslip in 1866. Foreseeing the inevitable fate of Foulness and its lighthouse, Cromer’s current lighthouse was built in 1833. It was half a mile inland, although it is now much closer to the cliff top. The lighthouse is octagonal, with a circular lantern. The illumination was converted from oil to gas in 1905 and to electricity from 1935.
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