London, East Anglia & Paris
July 16 through July 26, 2000
Adventures of Bill, Linda and Betsy Ross
Day 7, Saturday
Norwich, East Dereham, a moated castle, and fine hospitality
We arose early, stored the extra suitcase not needed in Norfolk, checked out of the hotel, and found our way via tube to Liverpool Station. The luggage was a dratted nuisance, but manageable. Here we verified the tickets that Alex and Jenny had provided, and had another cuppa while waiting for the train to board. Once on board, we moved thru the northern periphery of London, seeing a more industrial landscape this time. Once out of the urban area, the countryside resumed it's whimsical array of small fields, suburban train stations, and hedgerows.
We arrived in Norwich on schedule, and were greeted by Alex and Jenny Noel-Tod. This was a particularly touching moment, as Jenny and Linda had been pen-pals for 40 years, and were meeting for the first time! I wished I had my camera out. They helped us to the car (an automobile at last!), and gave us a good commentary on the sights of Norwich as we passed on our way to East Dereham--somewhat west of Norwich--and to their home on Quebec Street. We got a very close-up view as Alex took us along his bike route and thru the small villages that nearly bump each other in their proximity. We attempted a view of the Univ. of East Anglia, where Alex is librarian, but the trees had grown too tall to see much.
For the first time, we had no sunshine, and needed the "woolies" we had been lugging about. At least it wasn't raining, and the chill was refreshing to my itchy sun rashes.
After a brief rest and homemade sandwiches, the itinerary for the day unfolded. We would spend the afternoon at Oxburgh, a moated castle southwest of Dereham--home of the Bedingfield family. We'd also get a first-hand look at the Norfolk village landscape. This we did, and I believe I enjoyed it even more than the grander palaces. Smaller, and more intimate, but not a lot less sumptuous, the castle with its priest hole and Queen Mary's needlework was a pure delight. Exiting the castle, we walked around the grounds.
At Oxburgh Castle, we made new friends Then we ventured into the neighboring churchyard. Here the Bedingfields are buried in the recently ruined village church (the roof mysteriously and suddenly fell in only a few years ago!), and I spied many familiar names on the old gravestones: Galloway, Hopkins, Wallace, and others that reminded me of my own genealogical studies.
Oxburgh Castle
Linda, Jenny (inside), Bill & Alex (outside) the ruins of the church Having Alex and Jenny with us was making every moment more poignant. He really gave us a ride on those narrow roads, and we exchanged many traffic stories and differences between our automobile culture and their rail culture. We fell easily into conversation and there were few silent moments! I'm glad that I got so many photos of us on our tours--they have become my favorites in retrospect.
Back to Dereham, we had a late tea with digestive biscuits. Now I know what those cookies really are--a bit like our shortbread cookies and very good, if subtle in flavor.
Reservations for dinner had been arranged at The Gamp, a small but exclusive dining establishment in Foulsham--yet another of the charming villages--just north of Dereham. The meal was exquisite and served with great care and grace. Bill insisted on handling the tab, and Alex and Jenny gratiously yielded, but later we wondered if we had left a tip! It was unclear, when we later examined the receipt, whether it was included in the total, or not. So if we blundered here, please forgive us. We could never adequately express our pleasure with the food and the service.
Home late, and to bed. I was lucky enough to have Jeremy's room--the older son who was away. It's a large, comfortable room, overlooking the Noel-Tod back garden in all its intimate charm and color. Matthew, the younger son, came in just before we retired for the night. We would see more of him later.
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Copyright © 2000 Elizabeth Ross.
The writer has made no attempt to use formal grammar, and the stream-of-consciousness style is no doubt replete with errors. It was a real trip, in every sense of the word, and the reader must forgive the run-on sentences, misplaced modifiers, and simple page layout!
