Thursday, 28 April, 2022
We had the rest of the sausages and hot cross buns and started getting ready to leave. I have recurring nightmares about having to pack for somewhere and not being able to get it together. So in real life I try to get it done early and quickly – it’s almost like PTSD from all those bad dreams. Anyway, everything fit in so that’s good. When the case was almost done, the plumber showed up to fix the shower and said that there was something wrong with the thermostat and it would have to be replaced. A few minutes later the receptionist showed up to offer us a shower in an empty room. Way too late! We politely refused and soon afterwards left our cases in the front lobby and left, passing the views of the cathedral and the back road to where we needed to be. There was construction that Krish was sure was a nod to Ukraine.
We planned to go ‘over the water,’ which is what they call it in Norwich – crossing the River Wensum. It’s also called The Creative Quarter, since the art school and other creative arts venue are there. So ‘Creative Quarter, Over the Water.’ My friend Tom, who has lived here, had told me to check out Elm Hill and I’d seen a bit of it the night before so knew it was worth looking at. It’s just before you reach the river.
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It’s worth a moment to say that the street called Tombland is wonderfully named. It comes from two Old English words meaning ’empty space’ – and the area was originally the site of an Anglo-Saxon market.
Elm Hill is considered the most famous and most complete medieval street in the city. It’s steep, cobbled, and lined with some lovely small boutiques. At the top is St Peter Hungate church. The churchwardens planted the first elm trees during the first quarter of the 16th century and these gave the name to the street. They stood there until Dutch Elm disease killed them all.
Although there’s evidence that Elm Hill has been there since the 1200s, very few buildings now there are of an earlier date than 1507, when 700 houses n Norwich were destroyed by fire. The oldest building is The Britons Arms, 1420. The Tudor building above is 22-26 Elm Hill former Paston House, now Strangers Club. The wooden door with the plaque saying Father Ignatius tells another tale.  Father Ignatius (Reverend Joseph Leicester Lyne ) and his Anglican monks first came to open his monastery  in 1863. He was by all accounts charismatic and controversial. By 1866 his monastery was closed, following wide-spread public outrage and outbreaks of violence over the activities of Father Ignatius and his Third Order. Since I read most of what I know now after leaving Elm Hill, I can’t tell you which buildings are which, but they are certainly memorable. Memorable to my legs too – the cobbles and the steep hill were not friendly to them. Then we went over the water.
I was looking for where Tom used to live but I never found it. He’d sent me a map but I couldn’t make it out – ‘not very good with maps.’ This area was rougher than the other side of the river. Krish and I talked about how different the areas people actually live in can be from what you see in the centre of towns. My legs were tired though, so Krish went exploring and I got a hot chocolate and sat outside waiting for him. We thought we might try to eat here, but somehow we reached the residential area very quickly and so turned around. I could tell I was reaching overload.
I’ll confess to a lot of blurry memory of what we saw. A lot in a short time…no time to linger, explore, contemplate, and at this point of our time away just happy to look and enjoy and be captivated by this and that in our view. It makes me think about how to explore in areas like this where there is so much. Hop on/off sightseeing can be a good overview, but we didn’t do that and rarely do these days. These tours can be good for seeing a lot in a shorter time, but lack the behind-the-scenes off-the-high-street flavour I love. A day somewhere is good only if you focus or have a goal, two days is less tiring, three is ideal or a good taste of what’s on offer. To really explore a month or three is ideal. I miss those longer visits to Torino and, of course, Toronto, La Habra. Will I have those days again?
At any rate this was Norwich so the final bit of our journey had to play out. Before we knew it, it was time for something to eat and get to the station on time. We walked down St George’s Street, trendy and filled with students and digital age types.
A little Norwich geography confusion happened when we realised we were close to not only Pottergate, but not far from St Benedict’s Street again. Suddenly I had that rare ‘putting the jigsaw puzzle together’ experience. Everything was right there.
The penultimate adventure was deciding to go to Haggle this time and again overstepping it, eventually making it through the door. It was full but they had room downstairs. We were alone down there and it was peaceful. We chose our menu items and then I routinely asked if there were green or red peppers in anything. The server went to check and came back with a marked menu – over half the menu was pepper-full, including all of our choices. We’d wanted the lamb tagine and were told ‘It’s just the nature of the cuisine.’ So we left, and I was unable to stop myself saying ‘I’ve had many tagines and never a pepper in one of them’ as I thanked him for his time. Authentic is as authentic does. Well, we weren’t going back to Farmyard, so we headed to the market again.
This was my first time inside the market. There are rows of places and most are for food, one after the other. We swept through and I noticed that Lucy’s had two fish and chips stands – were there more? Krish queued for ramen and I queued for dumplings, and we sat in front of the town hall and ate our final Norwich meal. If Delia is from here, we saw no sign of her, but we managed.
I’d sworn I would take a bus or cab to the station, while Krish would fetch the cases but instead we walked, finally more confident in directions. And off we went to the station and our train home.
The journey was smooth until we slowed down, then stopped. ‘Trespasser on the track,’ they announced. A slowy, stoppy bit later the trespasser was ‘apprehended, a mental health issue sadly.’ England is ‘funny’ like that.