15 September 2003
Evidence for Norfolk land grab
Last time I started to tell you about my visit to the Highlands of Scotland to research the theory that they used to be part of Norfolk. Unfortunately I got a mite distracted by the traffic on the way back and lost the thread. This almost never happens.
I can reveal, however, that there is prima facie evidence to back up the theory, which stemmed originally from work done by local scientists such as Prof V A R Scheinlich of Hingham and Prof Ian “Sam” Aufmerksam, of the UEA’s School of Penguins, Chess and Road Surfacing. Most people accept that there are bits missing from Norfolk, especially in the Reepham and Halvergate areas, and many readers will have experienced the eerie sensation of going back to find somewhere that is not there any more.
This may be partly due to the deliberately misleading signposts erected by the county council as part of the war effort, but I believe there is a deeper significance to it.
Anyone who has taken even a brief look round the Highlands will tell you that there is a great deal more of them than there needs to be. Often it is obvious that whole chunks of earth have simply been dumped in unlikely places. While the overall effect is admittedly stunning, experienced lawyers feel that Norfolk has a case for retrieving some of the material.
The case has been strengthened by reader Ray Fenn of Shotesham, who tells me that while on holiday in the rural North West of Scotland some years ago, he fell into conversation with an elderly local “who told me that for several years he was employed on coastal steamers carrying coal to the power station at Norwich. “Returning downriver, they stopped at Cantley sugar beet factory and loaded topsoil which had been washed from the beet before processing. He did not say (and neither do I) that this was done with either the intention to create, or had the effect of creating, his native scenery.”
Mr Fenn is almost sure that this is what he was told, and I have to say that it rings extraordinarily true. I do feel it unlikely, however, that Lord Lucan was involved in any way, or that nudity was strictly necessary to obtain the desired artistic effect. Unfortunately my campaign to “Bring back the Hills” to Norfolk has so far received little support.
Were roadworks really necessary?
I am sure that all citizens of Norwich have been hugely entertained by the amusing roadworks around Agricultural Hall Plain. No doubt they, like me, are lost in admiration for the ingenious method selected to get the sacred cow buses directly from Upper King Street into Castle Meadow; and have enjoyed, as pedestrians, the challenge of crossing the temporary chaos without benefit of lights. But I do wonder if the whole thing might have been avoided in a much more boring way, and at great saving to the communal purse. Since the constant hold-ups in Rose Lane are caused almost entirely by cars queuing to get into the Castle Mall car park, wouldn’t it have been simpler to station a couple of traffic wardens permanently in a strategic position to move the lemming drivers on? I admit it doesn’t allow the transport people to have so much fun with their Lego, but sometimes the taxpayer should come first.
Encounter of the otter kind
Walkers in the wilds of Norfolk are prepared for strange encounters of the first, second or third kinds – and more besides. A regular yomper tells me of two baffling, possibly connected items that he stumbled across close to the Suffolk border.
The first, near Earsham, was the sign “Slow! Wild Otter” on a bridge. While most of us are aware that Earsham and otters are virtually synonymous, this is still mysterious. Why was the otter so wild? Was he a member of Transport 2000? It was apparently a bit unnerving. You get used to trolls trying to stop you crossing bridges, but otters tend not to go in for this sort of thing, deeming it uncivilised.
Happily, the renegade otter in question must have been asleep, and the yomp continued safely. But not far away was something that gave the walkers more pause for thought: a single walking boot tied by its laces to the bottom of a signpost. In case you doubt this, I can reveal that I have a picture of it – too graphic, unfortunately, to be published in a family newspaper.
What could it mean? Had a walker been dragged to his death by the wild otter, managing to tie his boot to the post in a last, desperate bid to warn others (there was a plastic spoon nearby)? Or is there somewhere in Norfolk a walker who has not noticed that he has shed one of his boots? The truth is out there.
'Hingham' democracy gets new boost
The cutting edge style of democracy pioneered by the Autonomous Republic of Hingham has been taken a step further by a town in central Norfolk.
The original breakthrough at Hingham, an area well known for its ability to bend time and space, consisted in asking local people what they thought of key issues – particularly the sale of a controversial Scout Hut – and then ignoring them on a technicality. Now Swaffham has leapt vigorously on to the bandwagon. A poll on a plan to extend the town hall at a cost of £300,000 was put to the people, who responded in what might be described as a clear-cut fashion. The actual score was 486 people voting against and only 103 in favour – or not far off 5-1, the sort of result we could only dream of against the footballers of Liechtenstein.
This did not sway the stolid councillors of the parish, who had already decided in favour of the status-enhancing scheme. A bigger house always impresses the neighbours, though I’m sure that was not the motivation for the extension. I have no doubt that the extra space is urgently needed to deal with council business like – well, like counting the results of parish polls, for instance. Anyway, we all know from industry that everything has to grow, don’t we?
Of course, as Mayor Ian Sherwood pointed out, the town council was not legally bound to take any action over the referendum result: it was merely a source of information. So that’s all right. The council is not doing anything wrong at all and is perfectly entitled to its extra rooms.
A group romantically named Stag (less romantically, the Swaffham Taxpayers’ Action Group) has said it will continue to contest the plans, but I am a little worried. Stags are notoriously vulnerable to stalking and often come to a sticky end. Antlers would look good over the new door, don’t you think?