Tag Archives: suffolk

Cold and misty landscape

The stunning village of Kersey, in Suffolk

Lots going on, as you might expect for the time of year, and more travelling too. Last Saturday Dot and I went with Phil to watch Norwich City lose 2-0 to Portsmouth. Actually, that’s not why we went – we went to see them win, but I suppose our run of seeing only victories had to end some time. Phil came because Jonathan had three spare tickets. Quite a pleasant day, but it got cold rapidly after darkness fell.

Huge amounts to to take to church on Sunday, what with Christmas presents and music stands, and it was one of those mornings where things did not run smoothly. Nevertheless, an excellent talk from Mark Heybourne and a good atmosphere, with Howard leading. Dot was playing at a Julian Window music and meditation event later, and I picked her up so that she could come home and change before going (driven by Heather Cracknell) to an evening meal (cheeses,quince jelly, beef wellington) with the Archers at the home of the Greens, who must come close to being the perfect hosts. Lovely food and intelligent conversation, with plenty of humour.  And Bridget drove us home, so I didn’t have to watch my wine consumption too carefully.

Highlight of Monday was my chess win for Dons B against a player ranked well above me. I didn’t play the opening well and got into a position where I had to sacrifice the exchange for a pawn to avoid losing my queen. But after that he played too passively and got into bad time trouble: I got a really nice attack and sacrificed a knight which won against anything really, but with seconds left he played the worst line, and walked into a mate. Satisfying, but not the prefect game by any means. We lost the match 3-1.

On Tuesday Dot and I ventured into Suffolk again. Dot left fairly early for Metfield, where she spent much of the day planning for a P4C event at Dulwich College Prep School in January. After rushing around preparing in various ways for Christmas, I joined her late in the afternoon, after nearly losing the MX5 in a skid on mud near Harleston. I would say it was beautifully controlled, but there was nothing very beautiful about it: I just reacted instinctively and apparently did the right thing, since I was still on the road at the end of it. We left the MX5 at Metfield and drove to Little Waldingfield, near Sudbury, after a tortuous, dark drive down the A143 in a tail behind a huge lorry doing a constant 40mph. In the end we took an alternative route and heard on the radio immediately afterwards that we had avoided a big hold-up. Still not easy, though, and even after we got to Little Waldingfield (after taking the wrong road out of Lavenham because of a misleading map) we took ages to find the B&B. I walked up and down the main street, then we looked at the directions and found that the place was far from where the computer postcode-generated map indicated it would be. All got a bit tense, but the place itself was fine, though not nearly as grand as it seemed on the web.

Our B&B at Little Waldingfield: hard to find, but a nice breakfast

The following day there was ice on the windscreen, and after an excellent breakfast I had to scrape around before dropping Dot at Great Waldingfield School, which left me about seven hours to fill. I returned to the B&B for a bath and cup of tea, then ventured out into a cold, misty landscape that had nothing very appealing about it at first. First stop was Lavenham Church, where I talked to a couple of people, including a guy burning solidified candle wax off a candle holder. The previous night we had dined at the Swan Inn (excellent fish and chips, ate too much) and met another guy who was staying at our B&B. He had mentioned the window at Lavenham Church and told us about a man who had shown him the sunset through it, which he describesad an unforgettable experience – “as if it was on fire”. It turned out that the candle-burning guy was the man he had met. What are the chances of that happening? Well, reasonably high, because he was the verger, but still unexpected.

After this I drove into the middle of Lavenham and walked briefly, but it was very cold. So I drove to Kersey, a village recommended on a leaflet I’d bought at the church. It was truly stunning: a long narrow street running down steeply on both sides into a valley, with a ford running through. I drove right through and up to the church, where I stopped briefly. Very nice feeling to the whole area. Not far away I stopped at the 13th century St James’s Chapel, which was bare and cold, but atmospheric. Wanting to warm up I drove into Sudbury, then back to Lavenham, where I bought a cheese baguette and took it back to a viewpoint not far from the chapel, where I ate and read for a while. Afterwards I drove on again through beautiful countryside (despite the damp and mucky weather) and even found Kettlebaston, home of one of Dot’s college friends. Unfortunately I also found lots of mud, stemming from the sugar beet harvesting going on nearby. When we got home later I had to get the car cleaned, as well as checking the tyres and replenishing the screen-wash.

After hearing from Dot that she would be finished by 4pm, I paid a brief visit to Long Melford, but it was getting too dark to see much, so I returned to wait for Dot, who had unsurprisingly found the school outstanding. We drove home by the normal route, but it was tiring, because of the diversion to pick up the MX5 at Metfield, and it was over two hours before we arrived in Norwich.

Today it is raining steadily and we are awaiting icy conditions again, with a threat of a white Christmas on the horizon. I say “threat” because of the difficulty it might cause with travelling for David, the grandchildren and myself. Dot is out doing a bit of essential shopping: picking up some table coverings for church, mainly. I’ve just finished another poem, which I’m quite pleased with. After a period of writing nothing much, I’ve written several in the past few weeks. Quite exciting. For me, not for anyone else.

Tiny in Suffolk

Nelson's Studio at Blaxhall. Less is more.
Nelson's Studio at Blaxhall. Less is more.

The walk into the city last Thursday turned into a bit of a disaster towards the end when for no apparent reason my ankle turned over on Castle Meadow and I fell headlong. Managed to avoid serious injury by turning it into a forward roll, but my ankle was quite sore for a while, though it ‘s much better now. Food from M&S went flying, but that too avoided serious damage. Got bus home and had worries over the weekend trip to Aldeburgh, but miraculously the ankle was nowhere near as bad as I’d feared and hardly affected what we did.

Gentle journey south on Friday afternoon, interrupted by calling at Marion’s in Alburgh to order a Christmas cake. Arrived at Blaxhall before the light failed and found our cottage – Nelson’s Studio – without difficulty. Very rural setting, out in the wilds, though only about three miles from Snape. It was about the tiniest cottage I’ve been in, but brilliantly organised and surprisingly comfortable. It was approached up a very narrow path of large pebbles that was not too easy to negotiate for someone with a dodgy ankle – or anyone else, for that matter. But you could walk on the adjacent grass. Inside there was a small kitchen, a compact living area and a normal-sized loo and shower. Extremely narrow stairs led up to a sleeping area just big enough for a double bed and small wardrobe. Sounds claustrophobic, but we enjoyed it, though we did wonder how anyone a bit wider or a bit less mobile than us would have coped.

After taking the small amount of luggage in, we drove to Snape and Aldeburgh to work out where the venues were for the Poetry Festival. Aldeburgh is a very attractive small town which has the feeling of being extremely vulnerable to the sea: almost no protection. Lovely old houses, many idiosyncratic, and a relaxed atmosphere. Great place to live if you were sure the sea was going to stay where it was. In the evening we had a meal at the Plough and Sail at Snape. I’ve always loved the setting at Snape, and the meal matched it: really delicious.

The next day we’d set aside for the poetry festival, and I’d bought tickets for three events (total £54 for both of us). The first was at a fairly civilised 10.45am, and we were so on the ball that we were first in the queue at the Jubilee Hall. The tickets did not reserve seats, so I was bit worried about getting a decent spot, but we did well each time. The first and longest session was a reading by three poets: Ciaran Berry, David Morley and Maureen Duffy. Berry was not a good reader, and his poems were a bit too prosey for my taste, though he had some interesting ideas and lots of content; Morley was the best reader of the three and very “poetic”, making fascinating use of the Romany language which, he told us later in the day when we bumped into him, has its origins in Sanskrit, the original Romanies being a Hindu warrior caste; Duffy was quite interesting, but did not make a huge impression – perhaps I was tiring.

After this we returned to the cottage to watch Norwich beat Paulton Rovers 7-0 in the FA Cup (the unintentional timing worked out surprisingly well) while having a snack. That was us having a snack, not Norwich City, though they could probably have managed it. After the first ten minutes or so, it was a bit of a stroll. We returned to Aldeburgh for the highlight of the festival for me – an all-new reading by Geoffrey Hill. He starts with the advantage of an amazingly rich, deep voice, adds to it poetry of huge depth and structural complexity (with obscure Eliot-like references, many of which he explained), and a wonderful sense of humour. An immense figure in the poetic world, and I was delighted to have heard him. I don’t know anyone who can compare with him.

Forgot to mention that we saw Caroline Gilfillan at the first session, and I was surprised she wasn’t at this one, but of course it was sold out. After the 35 minutes we headed into town and found an excellent fish and chip restaurant, the Golden Galleon, on the High Street. Good quality and amazing speed of service, giving us time to call into a couple of exhibitions, which were not exactly compelling (though the quality of the photography in one was first-class) but gave us a chance to see the other two venues: the Peter Pears Gallery and the Cinema Gallery. We then wandered up to the final venue at the White Lion Hotel, where we had trouble attracting the interest, or even presence, of a barperson, but eventually had a quick drink before hearing David Constantine talk compellingly on Brecht as a poet. Good stuff, but I’m never sure that translations of Brecht really work: he relied a lot on the poetic sound of quite ordinary phrases in German, and they don’t make the journey into English too well. The ideas are good, though.

Wandered out into the night (which was when we ran into David Morley and had a brief chat) and then drove home, noticing the startling brightness of the starry sky, first in Aldeburgh but much more so in Blaxhall, where there was practically no other light visible. Eventually went in and watched a film – Sex in the City – before catching a bit of football and then squeezing up to bed.

Dot at Orford: bright and breezy
Dot at Orford: bright and breezy
Walberswick
Walberswick

Rained hard in the night, but the next day, like the previous one, dawned bright and pretty much stayed that way, though the occasional cloud drifted across. In the sun it was warm, and we sat outside an Orford cafe for our tea/coffee and cake, served disturbingly by a guy with a bad cold. Took in the ambience of a beautiful little town and walked from the quay along the water’s edge before cutting back up to the castle. Shut, of course, but often they’re better like that, and its outside shape was impressive, like a high rectangular block. Bought some fresh cod from the quayside before heading north, past Leiston Abbey before arriving at Yoxford in a bid to find somewhere Dot and Barbara could have lunch on their way down to Ipswich – well, about now, actually. No luck there (the ideal spot turned out not to serve lunch on Mondays) so we headed north again and finally found the White Hart at Blythburgh, which was so ideal that we stopped there for a drink before heading to Walberswick for a stroll on the beach and around the harbour in perfect autumn weather. Then spent some time reconnoitering the route Dot would take today from Blundeston to Blythburgh to meet Barbara – before heading home via Beccles. Found that our Humax had failed to record anything and stuck itself again, which was a bit irritating. We tried to watch Merlin on BBC iPlayer, but that encountered bandwidth problems and I was invited to download the iPlayer desktop, which I did, successfully. Must have been magic. I blame Merlin.

Later, after I had gone to an excellent Ambient Wonder Remembrance event, we watched Garrow and Match of the Day 2 live to avoid any further problems, but naturally the Humax recorded them OK. And then stuck again at 8am today. Machines – don’t you love ’em? Dot has just rung to say she has arrived at the White Hart, so it was all worthwhile. Brilliant sunshine there, raining here.

15 May 2007

This is my cousin Pat and her husband Brian, on the London Eye. We’ll get there one day.

I’m writing this at home because I have a stomach upset: I should be at our Tuesday gathering, tonight hosted by Ed at his place. I got there, but then had rather unpleasant pains, so came home. It’s better, but still complaining. Shouldn’t last long. I hope.

Been quite cold today. Went to Joyce’s funeral this morning: lovely service in the old church – read Psalm 23. Tea in the hall afterwards. Everyone had good things to say about her.

Back at home wrote my column for next Monday and revised some liturgy for NYFC. Dot arrived home from her inspection in Suffolk at about 3.40pm.