Showing posts with label All Saints Burnham Thorpe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label All Saints Burnham Thorpe. Show all posts

Saturday, 22 June 2019

A full day in North Norfolk

 

Absolutely no church interiors this time, though we did stop off at All Saints Burnham Thorpe to pay our respects at the graves of friend Jill's parents and brother. As the chosen church to receive money from our annual Norfolk Churches Walk, it got £2725.50 from the four of us and a grand total of £3846. I also won a £50 prize in the annual photographic competition, but as often I thought the choice was an odd one, though not ungrateful, of course.

The destination was Burnham Overy Staithe where our dynamic friend the composer and mezzo Susie Self was giving a special preview of her one-woman opera Analysis (we think it has to be called Self Analysis). The long drive with multiple stop-offs entailed revisiting a few old haunts from the time when Jill's mother lived in Burnham Thorpe. But if anything I love the area around Southrepps, where Jill is now settled  - to be strict, in Lower Southrepps - even more.


Her garden is now evolving into a little miracle, and with so much insect-friendly planting, it was buzzing and humming with life on a hot June weekend. Quite a few species of bee were to be found on the rockery, especially around the nepeta. My first conscious sighting of orange-bottomed bumble bees (Bombus lapidarius), and plenty of them.


As for the dragonflies, oh my, What colours, what a size! I'm grateful to Ellie Colver of the British Dragonfly Association for identification, having failed in my online search. Alas, these are no rare species, but nature's design is the thing. This one, with its plump blue and yellow thorax, should have been easy to classify, though I didn't find what I wanted: it's a male Broad-bodied Chaser (Libellula depressa).


More confusing were the candidates for this beauty out of three or four that had refused to settle, whizzing around the lawn for ages - a Four-spotted Chaser (Libellula quadrimaculata).


Jill outlaws some colours from her garden scheme, and wouldn't let these giant oriental poppies in, but how splendid they look against a wall on the lane.


There's a boardwalk around a preserved wild common/marsh five minutes from Jill's house, formerly managed by local residents and now in the care of the Norfolk Wildlife Trust, which will assure the right money spent on preserving it. Always bliss to visit if one has a spare half of an hour, especially in the evening.


Crossing a shady stream, I came across what I was hoping to see - quite a smattering of wild orchids


including this one, the Common Spotted Orchid (Dactylorhiza fuchsii).


White poplar fluff was drifting everywhere - a sight I remember multiplied a thousandfold from arriving (like Lenin) at St Petersburg's Finland Station one July (it was Stalin's favourite tree, apparently).



Our leisurely drive west to Susie's show needed to take in one big walk. It had to be a mostly shady one on a hot day, so we elected to do the big loop round Sheringham Park, Repton's role in which I hymned in an earlier blog post.


This was full rhododendron time, with occasional glimpses down to the sea.


We caught more of it fringing the estate before turning inwards at the point where the steam trains arrive at what is the terminus for the standard route.


Foxglove flourishing in the woods on the way back.


Then it was back in the car to head for lunch at an old favourite, Cookie's Crab Shop at Salthouse, which has become a hotspot since we used to visit in its humble days. The crab and lobster special did not disappoint. Then a short amble to see the salt marshes here.


and on to a garden centre in North Creake beloved of Jill, and I can see why: it just seems to have the ones you want. This magnificent cistus was not for sale.


though I duly noted this Halimiocistus 'Merristwood Cream'.


Tea at North Creake Abbey next, also quite developed since we last visited. The fields and stream over the way saw sheep and geese in happy co-existence.



Finally, the bathe at Holkham Beach, though another half-hour walk necessary from Burnham Overy Staithe to get there.


The water wasn't particularly cold, though there are no shots of me in the water, and the one of the other two in the dunes isn't permissible. So here's sea kale in the dip of the dunes on the way back


and a fading sun over the marshes.


Folk were assembling at the splendid old boathouse venue when we got back to the Staithe


and the singer-composer was in fine form both receiving on her set with its installation - true Renaissance woman, is our Susie -


and for the opera itself, a highly varied free-flow musical-theatre piece about the more analysis-worthy phases of her life. She is a fearless entertainer, engaging each member of the audience directly at one point or another, and she uses her voice superbly through many octaves. Michael, the 'sexy Canadian' who took her on a spin around his native land when they were both music students (a lively road-number), was there to support on cello; that's quite a partnership. Here they are after the performance.


For the after-show, they'd generously prepared a picnic of smoked salmon sandwiches, brownie and apple, following the prosecco at the start.


So we sat very contentedly watching a fine sunset.


Perfect end to a perfect day, if you'll forgive the cliche; I can't think of a better way to put it. And do make your way to the superlative 10th anniversary Southrepps Music Festival run by top tenor Ben Johnson and pianist Tom Primrose, held mostly in one of Norfolk's tallest-towered churches (simple inside, but excellent acoustics). Events from 7-11 August include recitals by phenomenal guitarist Sean Shibe, Ben in duo with former BBC Young Musician of the Year Martin James Bartlett (now well on the way with his superb EMI debut disc,which I need to write about) and my pals Benjamin Baker and Jonathan Bloxham in Mendelssohn's Second Piano Trio with Daniel Lebhardt (who also gives a duo recital with Ben B). The culminating event is a performance of Britten's The Burning Fiery Furnace. So cue a 'playout' with the burning fiery firnament at Burnham Overy Staithe.


Thursday, 11 May 2017

Norfolk springtime walk (no churches)


Or rather no interiors, and no pressure to hoof it from church to church as we do every September. This time the wonders were entirely natural: a bluebell wood


and a field full of cowslips


chief among them. We did see one church tower close enough, that of St Mary's Erpingham, but had to turn off up a lane before reaching it. The scene, nevertheless, is one that can't have changed, a bit of wire fencing apart, for centuries.


But before I give more context, I've been owing generous donors a final record of our achievement, and it's a good one - namely £4004 between the four of us (pleasing symmetry) which made All Saints Burnham Thorpe the top fundraiser for the Norfolk Churches Trust in 2016. Many thanks to all who gave. And a bit of shameless self-publicity in that, having won two categories in the photocompetition backed by Cheffins, I reproduce the two pages below from the Eastern Daily Press. The spiderweb framing St Peter and St Paul's Honing I'm pleased with, somewhat more puzzled why they chose the stained glass at St Peter's Ridlington for the detail.



Full context back here.

Our walk with Southrepps-based friend Jill on Bank Holiday Sunday was a delightful and varied circuit around and beyond the Blickling estate. I don't think we've ever walked in Norfolk in the spring, and the greatest pleasure was the light green of the newly-leafing oaks.


The National Trust has maintained the paths around the estate superbly, especially the boardwalks over beautiful marshland.


Part of it should be bright yellow with irises in a couple of weeks' time.


These are wetlands around the lovely river Bure.


Within a short space of time, I clocked four species of butterfly, including a delicate blue, a Brimstone and this Speckled Wood (Pararge aegaria) .


They eventually give way to fields, with the inevitable rape colouring the landscape yellow.


To pinpoint our bluebell wood might be to invite its spoliation - whenever one's identified in the press, everyone flocks to it. This was our first glimpse.


I wish you could hear the intense birdsong and smell the bluebells too.


Coming out of the wood, we took a lane around the edge, again with plenty more splendid oaks


and then a little bunny appeared. From the way it sat there quivering there might have been something wrong with it, but nothing obvious. Anyway, we left it with a question mark


encountering a friendly dog as well as this horse and foal


and then headed towards Erpingham. This is where the church tower led us forward for a bit before we turned left.


No lunch to be had in the pub Jill had planned for our stop - power failure and overbooking, familiar story - so we walked a mile or so further than planned, past a thatched, Dutch-gabled barn at Limetree Farm



to catch some necessary sustenance at Alby Crafts and Gardens. An eccentrically adorned tea room serves good lunch and massive slices of locally made cake.


Here it was that we first heard, then saw the peacocks. And one of the four males faffing around the solitary peahen decided to put on a display.



Reluctantly giving the gardens a miss, we headed back to Erpingham, but by a different route along the lovely Thwaite Common. Then to rejoin the Weavers' Way along what passes for heights in this part of the world, before hitting the cowslip meadow.


We headed back down to the Bure valley


which is very paradisical this side of the Blickling Estate



We eventually re-entered the Estate through a wood leading up to the lake.


I wonder if Henry James had this setting in mind for the outdoor scenes at 'Bly' in The Turn of the Screw. With the now-watery sun it had a faintly sinister feel


but the waterbird music kept it magical. A crested grebe was leading her brood across the water's surface.



So back to the car and the house, which I visited on a City Lit summer school many moons ago when my beloved Trude Winik was still alive (she took some very lopsided photos in the drive which I still treasure).


Sunday's excursion to see the angel roof of newly restored St Peter and St Paul's Knapton - all scaffolded up and shut down when we visited in September - and then for a fresh crab lunch at the Overstrand shack, followed by a walk along the ever-crumbling cliffs, will have to wait for another instalment. I'm getting bad at keeping my promises of second chapters here these days, but the wonders of Knapton can't be ignored.