Pretty In Pink

A row of pink cottages with a church tower appearing above the thatched roofs: if you haven't seen the view before then you can now...

Search for "images of Cavendish, Suffolk" on the computer and you'll see countless variations on the above photo, taken from every conceivable position on the village green. Now that we've got that out of the way, lets see what else there is to see in this quintessentially English village.

Just behind the church stands Nether Hall, a timber-framed sixteenth century farmhouse.

The Five Bells pub stands just a short distance from the church, as pubs with "bells" in the name often do; they were the establishments frequented by the bell-ringing teams - and I have it on good authority that pulling those bell-ropes is thirsty work.

The George, just down the road, seems to be more of a hotel and restaurant these days.

The Bull promises Live Music from "Cockney Pete" on Friday - which, I'm afraid, has now passed if you were hoping to go.

Lets go for a wander and check out some of the buildings and gardens. As we go I'll tell you what I've been able to find out about the village's past.

The name is thought to come from a man called Cafa who had an eddish here, which then became Cavendish. An eddish, in case you were wondering, is pasture land from which a cut of hay has already been taken, so perhaps this Cafa had the rights to put his cows out on the land to eat the second growth, after the hay had been carted away.

Back in the twelfth century one Roger de Guernon married into a wealthy family from the village and, as often happened, the family took the name of the estate and became the Cavendishes. In 1372 a certain Sir John Cavendish was appointed as the King's Chief Justice.

It was a time of great unrest in the country. There was a shortage of labour following the Black Death and workers found themselves in a strong bargaining position when it came to wages. There were laws passed to limit the bargaining power of the peasantry, which was of course widely resented. Furthermore there were poll taxes levied to pay for the ongoing war with France.

In 1381 an attempt by the King's officials to collect unpaid taxes led to a violent confrontation. The unrest rapidly spread across East Anglia and other parts of England and became known as the Peasants' Revolt. Their leader was Wat Tyler and a rather shadowy figure known as Jack Straw, and the mob was whipped into a frenzy by the radical preacher John Ball.

Sir John Cavendish's son, another John, was part of the young King Richard II's party when they met with Wat Tyler and other rebels. Exactly what happened is not known but a scuffle broke out and Wat Tyler was killed, allegedly by John Cavendish.

Word got back to Suffolk and a mob set out to capture Sir John (the father), who was already unpopular as he was responsible for collecting taxes in that part of the country. Sir John tried to claim sanctuary by clinging on to the door of Cavendish church, but to no avail as the mob dragged him off to Bury St Edmunds, where they beheaded him. After the rebellion was quashed the King pardoned many of the rebels, but not the men of Bury St Edmunds.

All of which is a gruesome tale to digest while walking around flowery streets on a summer's day. Who would have thought that such things could occur in such an idyllic backwater?

For some reason this little sign telling you to use the other door, when this door is so thoroughly barricaded with fuchsias and petunias, amused me.

Cavendish was also home to Leonard Cheshire and his wife, Sue Ryder. Their humanitarian and charitable work is too varied to mention in detail here. Their Wikipedia pages are here and here for anyone who wants to find out about two remarkable lives.

An old mill building reminds us that all these now quiet villages once had their own industries and workshops. They must have been bustling, active places at one time. And with that we'll leave Cavendish and be on our way.

OK, just one more picture of those pretty pink cottages standing by the green.

Take care.

In The Stour Valley

Off to "Silly Suffolk" today for a walk in the English countryside. Incidentally, although people like to make fun of Suffolk folk, the adjective "silly" here derives from the old word "sælig" which means "holy" and is a reference to the great number of fine churches in the area, one of which we'll pass towards the end of today's stroll.

Starting (and later finishing) at the village of Long Melford in the valley of the River Stour, we'll make our way downhill, looking out for a footpath on our right.

After a bit of nettle-bashing through a narrow path, we found ourselves in arable farming country. There was just a little sunshine penetrating the clouds, but that soon vanished till right at the end of our walk. I'm not complaining; it was plenty warm enough for walking.

This is perhaps not the most photogenic scenery you'll ever see, though I enjoy walking through it, seeing how the crops are progressing, listening out for snatches of birdsong from the hedgerows, finding hidden paths and occasional wildflowers.

It was not too difficult to notice this colourful bank of Poppies, Thistles and Red- and White Campion.

Nettle-Leaved Bellflower always looks like it might have escaped from a cottage garden though it's actually a native wild flower. It has an assortment of folk names including Throatwort (because it was thought to be a cure for sore throats), Our Lady's Bells (its blue colour being associated with the Virgin Mary), Coventry Bells (it's common near that city) or even Bats-In-The-Belfry ( maybe the stamens hang down like bats inside bells???).

We found a narrow footbridge leading across the little River Glem, one of the tributaries of the Stour.

Then it was a return to the field-edge paths beside crops of sugar-beet, wheat, barley and oats.

The "tramlines", lines left unplanted to be followed by crop-spraying machines, may appear to weave about drunkenly, but they actually run parallel to the field boundary, which in turn follows the course of a minor stream. The effect is further exaggerated by the low angle of view.

A dead tree still stands proudly overlooking the ripening wheat. Harvest will not be as ridiculously early as it has been several times recently. When I was a schoolboy, helping out with harvest work during school holidays, cutting the barley (always the earliest grain crop to ripen) didn't start till mid-August, now the first combines may be in the fields by the middle of July.

It's easy to say that global warming has contributed to the early harvests but there are other factors too, such as development of new varieties of grain. It's also easier to dry grain these days thanks to modern equipment.

We're now approaching Kentwell Hall, as we get near to completing our circle. You wouldn't expect to find an old broken-down trailer in the grounds of a stately home, but this is left from an auction of old agricultural equipment. This one obviously didn't sell - can't for the life of me imagine why someone didn't snap it up!

Kentwell Hall dates from the late 15th to early 16th centuries and is still lived in as a family home. In order to finance the upkeep of such a huge building it also opens its doors to the public, but not in the same way as pioneered by the National Trust or English Heritage. Kentwell Hall favours historical re-enactments and other themed extravaganzas to bring in the crowds. It may not be to everybody's taste but thousands of school children must have had an interest in history awakened by being allowed to dress up as a medieval peasant!

It really is a magnificent building and it won't surprise you to learn that further income is derived from filming in and around the Hall - everything from Witchfinder General starring Vincent Price, to 1969's Wind in The Willows starring several of the Monty Python team (released as Mr Toad's Wild Ride in some countries).  

Walking across the parkland we spotted this little detail on one of the trees which made a nice little study.

But we're on our way back to Long Melford and there's its church appearing across the meadow.

Holy Trinity Church in Long Melford is one of the finest of our "wool churches" - financed by the wealth of the woollen industry in the Medieval period, in this case by the Clopton family who lived in Kentwell Hall. I've been inside before and you can read about it here. (I know that people don't always follow these links, but if you haven't seen inside I recommend that you click on this one).

There are plenty of flowery gardens in Long Melford, but we'll be seeing some flowers in the next post and besides I'm ready to sit on one of those benches on the green and eat my picnic lunch. Then, all being well,......

...my brother, Les, will buy us ice creams.

Thanks, Bro. 

And if you read this blog regularly you should thank him too, for without him driving for me I wouldn't be able to get about to these lovely places, especially since I've not been using public transport since you-know-what.

Take care.

Those Magnificent Men In Their Ploughing Machines

 ...and several magnificent women too.

It was enjoyable last year and they were out in force again last weekend; the Cambridgeshire Vintage Tractor Run passed through several villages, raising money for the National Health Service as they went.

To make things a little different this year we headed to the nearby village of Barrington, the beauty of which I've shown you before. It was a good idea and one that many other people had too - they make quite a carnival of it in Barrington. Here are some of the many photos I took.....

Last year they raised £3,500 but I'm sure it will be more this year. And finally, this was nothing to do with tractors, but I couldn't resist photographing this throwback to the 1960s that I saw parked up in the village:

Take care.

A Norfolk Village

A few years ago we were cutting across Norfolk, making our way from Swaffham to Hunstanton, while showing my cousin and her husband some of the English countryside. At some point we sped through an attractive village with a large village pond but didn't stop. I'd always wondered where it was and recently I figured out it could well have been Great Massingham. Lets go and find out.

Like many East Anglian villages it has a very smart sign to welcome you. It depicts the importance of agriculture and commemorates the wartime airfield. It also shows the church tower and the village pond. There's a monk to remind you that long ago there was an Augustinian priory here. And that gent in the middle? That's Sir Robert Walpole (1676-1745), Britain's first Prime Minister, who was born at nearby Houghton Hall and received his early education in Massingham, before going on to Eton and Cambridge. But even he looks like he's got his farming boots on!

The imposing 15th century church tower is reflected in one of the village ponds. There are two large ponds in the centre of the village and several more around the outskirts. While it was not unusual to have more than one pond in a village, there are few places which have such large ponds, or where so many have survived.

These ponds may well have been connected to the priory, possibly as fishponds, though they undoubtedly would have had ducks and geese too, as they still do.

Ducks are so much a part of village life that even the pub has been renamed "The Dabbling Duck". The primary school just down the road has a duck on its badge, and the pre-school is charmingly named "Ducklings"!

There are geese too. These are Egyptian Geese and were originally imported here as colourful additions to wildfowl collections, but have since escaped into the wild where they have flourished and become part of the Norfolk countryside. 

Great Massingham has numerous fine examples of rural domestic dwellings. Part of England's charm is that each area has developed its own style of cottage architecture, not just as a matter of taste, but depending on what materials were available locally. Although the finest building stone might be transported long distances for major churches or great houses, the common people relied on what could be found in the surrounding countryside.

What was available in great quantities in the fields here was flint. These very hard but oddly-shaped rocks could be made (if you had sufficient skill) into a wall, but you needed bricks to make corners or to fit windows and doors. And happily the bricks which could be made in the area were an attractive russet tone.

Occasionally the builders became very ambitious and creative, combining flint and brick in a chequerboard pattern.

Rounded field-stones or beach-stones were also used for walling, but again were pretty useless for making corners. The immediate visual effect is much the same as flint-and-brick.

You will also have noticed that tiles are used for roofing here rather than thatch. Experts in vernacular architecture can tell you exactly where the tiles were made from the slight variations in local styles, though you can depend that none of them would have been transported any further than was strictly necessary.

The red tile roofs give the buildings a sense of unity even when the walls have been rendered rather than showing the underlying brick or stone. The church has also made use of local materials, but it's been thought worthwhile here to bring in stone for the corners.

One of the smaller ponds away from the centre of the village.

There are some delightful little corners to explore all over the village and, though you may stop here intending to have a quick look around, you could easily linger much longer.

Summer visitors probably help to keep the shop/post office in business and the sign in the foreground is for the Cartshed, a small tea room. But the overall impression here is that this is a self-contained settlement that would get by quite nicely on its own, thank you.

I'm still not completely convinced that this is the place I saw before, but I can't find anywhere else that fits the bill despite close examination of detailed maps. Anyway I'm glad we made a stop here in Great Massingham.

Take care.