Tuesday 19th
After my
first visit to Norwich in 2017 the subsequent visits,
in 2019 and 2020,
became something of a microcosm of the Covid experience. Eat Out to Help
Out was the thing in 2019, which proved to be a big mistake, and no little
contributor to the subsequent resurgence and need for more
lockdowns that year, into 2020,
which we were tentatively emerging from when we visited
Norwich that summer, and were still experiencing
restrictions and suffered from the pingdemic. This year
I'm here on my own for a short spring break, with encouragement
added by a sudden obsession with tracing my family
back, and thereby finding that the
original 19th-century Cottons came to Shoreditch from
Norwich, bringing their shoemaking skills with them.
The 11.00 train from
Liverpool Street was empty and 12 carriages long, with no children or
smelly food eaters in my carriage the whole journey. The habitual
why-no-fruitcake conversation was had with the refreshments trolley
person, and the Victoria sponge alternative
was made do with. I got to the Premier Inn 1.00ish,
and as the check-in time is now after 3.00 I was prepared to leave my bag,
but was able to check in and settle in to my superior Premier Plus room,
before heading off for some initial church visiting, eating a Pret cheese
toastie, checking out some churches, finding one churchyard cat, buying a cinnamon donut, three books on Norwich and a very
tasteful big mug, and returning to my room for tea and cake and a snooze.
Norwich was populated, but not overly or underly so, as it had been during
the between-lockdown days, the sun was out and the cathedral and its close
were full of spring blossom, daffs and stuff.
In the evening I walked
along the river and then over it to explore crannies and find pretty churches
where
some of which my 18th-century relations were baptised, married and buried. I'm appreciating
these churches
more for realising that not finding
them open means I can more admire the outside, and the inside will
probably be a bit plain anyway and certainly will have no frescoes to
speak of. Very few people about, which suited my need to wander lonely.
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Wednesday 20th
The breakfast
at the Premier Inn is back
to buffet, after the
Covid-period table service. The continental breakfast
is still fine, if
not unusual. The croissants were good
and fresh, but the coffee machine being broken was a
bit of a blow. The instant alternative was acceptable, though,
I quietly confess.
A morning of favourites
To the Rosary Cemetery
first, with
the spring sunshine, birdsong
and complete lack of fellow visitors making for a fine uplifting wander. To
the cathedral after, of course, also sunlit and sparsely populated,
followed by a toastie lunch and a little light book and bun buying. On the
way back to the hotel I finally got to sample the gelateria near the
castle. Sometimes you choose flavours and sometimes flavours choose
you...coconut and hot cross bun!
And no disappointment.
Out in the evening over the
river
again
and
further
into
the area where my shoemaking ancestors worked, it would
seem, and got christened, married and buried, a lot of them at St Mary Coslany and St Martin at Oak. One is now a book warehouse
and
the other a
music study centre. Both got their photos took in the spring evening
sunshine. Back to the hotel for a restaurant booking, made due to the
temptation of the vegan Filled Yorkie - veggie sausages, gravy, mash and
peas, served up in a Yorkshire pudding. As a big fan of the Yorkshire
pudding back in my meat-eating early years I was keen to revisit a
childhood Sunday
treat, and was not
disappointed.
Thursday 21st
To Great Yarmouth today, to
visit the huge Minster church of St Nicholas and
also
Great Yarmouth's
cemetery, which is handily attached to the churchyard. The train from
Norwich takes only a little over half an hour, so I was soon making for
the church, the streets surrounding which were full of funfair
rides. I
obviously said the right thing mentioning this to the attendants in the
church as they were much discommoded by it washing up to the church, this
situation
evidently being caused by
the market square where the fair usually takes place being redeveloped.
The church sure is big - the guide
inside, who wrote the book, put it down to
excess wealth. The man in the traditional sweet shop I patronised later
(for raspberry ruffles) thought that the Bishop of Norwich, Herbert de Losinga, who built St Nicholas in 1101, must have had some major sins to
expiate, which got us onto the subject of Jimmy Saville, but let's put all
that behind us and visit the cemetery. I concentrated on the older half,
and found it lawny and well kept, comparatively, with no big mausoleums,
but some nice stones and monuments and vistas.
I then headed towards the
centre of town for some lunch. There being no Pret I found myself in a
large cafe on the way down to the seafront, which served toasties but was
so retro they didn't even offer non-white bread, and only had
non-artisanal crisps. But trad can be good, so I also had a stroll along
the pier, admired the donkeys, and got myself a vanilla ice cream in a wafer cornet on the way
back to the train.
An evening visit to the
Cathedral was a solitary joy, followed by a wander in town and then
booking myself into the hotel restaurant for 7.00 on my return. I had the
veggie burger and skin-on chips
this time
with, I kid you not, cream soda - another
trip down memory lane after last night's Yorkshire pudding.
Friday 22nd
Dithering between a last morning in Norwich and getting home before lunch
I finally decided on the latter, caught the 9.30 and was home soon
after 12.00. Getting myself a coffee and a Kit Kat on the train I had to
wait for the two blokes ahead of me to get served with many cans of beer,
40-odd quids worth, at just gone 10.00am. It turned out they were part of a
stag party, but that's no excuse, I hope you'll agree. The
why-no-fruitcake
conversation was had again, with the woman serving admitting to
many people asking and complaining - and so not just me - one only
yesterday.
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