1 January 2007
Wandering among the griffins
I understand that the next time I take a trip on the Bittern Line, I could end up in what is due to be called Griffin Country.
This is extremely worrying. I am already on a hit list drawn up by great crested newts and by coypu, which I revealed on this page are nowhere near as extinct as they pretend to be. I can’t prove that the e-mail I received from ycoup@hingham.com, suggesting that I might become extinct myself, was in fact from a rodent of any kind, but I have my suspicions.
Now, it seems, I have to contend with griffins whenever I venture into the villages north of North Walsham.
It could be worse, and nearly was. I understand the original idea was to call it Griffon Country, but it was pointed out that griffons are a type of vulture almost never seen in north Norfolk. The idea was abandoned, but not before several twitchers arrived at Bacton.
Griffins themselves are not so common now in the north-east coastal strip. Some say they have been eroded and have fallen into the sea. I doubt this would happen to a beast that is a cross between an eagle and a lion, though I can see how it might be confused enough to lose its footing.
It is some years now since I have actually seen one of these wonderful animals running free around the Great Barn at Paston. One of them was believed to have gone to school at North Walsham, where it was good at contact sports, but in recent times they have all but disappeared, perhaps because of global warming and a lack of glaciers.
I thought I saw one last week when I stood in Hog’s Loke, near Spa Common, and gazed over the North Walsham and Dilham Canal towards the sea as the sun set over Meeting Hill, but I could have been mistaken.
I shall certainly be watching my step as I stroll through Knapton, Trunch and Edingthorpe in future. Once griffon, twice shy, as they say.
Nothing plaque pinned down in Bungay alley
My thanks to the readers who wrote in to tell me where the mysterious borderline “Nothing happened” plaque was pinned to a wall.
It turns out to be Turnstile Lane, in Bungay - an alleyway running between Upper Olland Street and Lower Olland Street. Geoff Went tells me he walks through there quite often and is sure that one day something will happen, which is commendable optimism.
The precise location, I am told by David Wolfenden, is the wall of a house at Number 8; so I suppose the plaque could refer to nothing happening inside the house, but only in 1832. The wording specifies “on this spot”, which begs several questions. Meanwhile my original informant suggests that a more appropriate location for the plaque would be Nowhere, near Acle. I happen to be nowhere near Acle as I write, and could not agree more.
He also suggests that there may be several even more obscure places in Norfolk called Nowhere. If any reader is in the middle of one of them, perhaps he or she could let me know, in case plaques are necessary.
Save nightingales from filthy lucre
Disturbingly, Norfolk Wildlife Trust has launched a Christmas appeal for £25,000 to bring nightingales to Foxley Wood.
I like a nightingale as much as the next man – in fact I am fond of birds of all kinds – but I have strong reservations about this.
Everyone knows how much great crested newts charge nowadays to allow any kind of construction to happen, whether it is roads or houses. Indeed it seems that the possibility of disturbing great crested newts has to be factored into any major project, such is their expertise in extorting cash.
Few people would trust a newt further than they could throw it, which is illegal, by the way.
I would not like to see nightingales, at present innocent birds, go the same way. Once you give a group of nightingales £25,000 to live in one place, you will find nightingale consortia all over the county, demanding nesting fees. Desirable areas, like Berkeley Square, could see astronomical amounts paid.
From there it would be only a short step to their charging extra for singing unsocial hours, especially if the singing was enchanting.
Save our nightingales. Don’t give them anything.
Disappearing hospitals the game of 2007
Watching hospitals disappear is the new, exciting game for 2007.
Apparently what you do is set up cottage hospitals to look after the needs of small communities in Norfolk. You encourage local people to work in them, with a resulting high level of care and community. You develop local pride in their performance, and a great deal of local money is raised to improve them.
Then you put them at the mercy of a huge and constantly changing top-heavy health service that leaks money like a burst water main, but in much less interesting ways.
Then you get someone from a long way away to come and listen to overwhelming reasons that the hospitals should stay open.
You turn round, feel good, shut your eyes for a few seconds, and when you open them again, the hospital has disappeared.
Hours of fun for all the family. A No-one is to Blame Production. On sale now.
Horror as time distortion pops up in Norwich
The influence of the Autonomous Republic of Hingham, with its radical form of democracy and time-space distortion, has reached out to the very heart of Norwich.
I don’t mean its Georgian architecture, its annual fairs or its candlemaking. I mean the clock on St Augustine’s Church, near Anglia Square.
For years this had been stuck at 7.10. Recently, for no apparent reason, it moved forward to 7.40. When the phenomenon was investigated, it was found that the clock had no workings inside at all.
Recently a Developing Consciousness course has been running at the nearby church hall, and some members of the congregation feel that the clock may have been affected.
Prof V A R Scheinlich, the Hingham distortion expert, said: “We thought this kind of thing was restricted to the Hingham area. The vicar should be very worried.”