Chedgrave And The Great Beyond

People love to bang on about the UK being overcrowded. Well I'm not so sure: I say that because everywhere I've visited over the last six weeks has been empty - and last Tuesday proved to be no different ......

So it's Monday evening and Sue has just chucked a photo-copied map at me saying, "That's tomorrow's trip sorted."

Chedgrave? I remember playing a gig there once; and I know the White Horse serves Timothy Taylor; and Kelly once had a dodgy boyfriend who lived out that way. But what's to see?

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By nine thirty we are parked up in Chedgrave, alongside the graveyard - always handy I guess, should things go badly wrong.

Five minutes after descending the path between an orchard and some mellow-bricked cottages and I'm already considering a move to the country.

See this is what gets me: before you can say "countryside" we are crossing a vast meadow, topped by an over-arching blue sky. And there's just nothing in any direction, but a whole bunch of nature. So how come there are so many areas like this in Norfolk that I've never been to? And how comes there's only ever a few lost souls wandering these backwaters?



The next five miles are fun. Early into the walk we chat with a pair of returning cyclists. "How far you been?" I ask. "Two hundred yards," he replies, trying desperately to keep a straight face so as not to blow the comedy moment. Next up Sue, super-charged with endorphins, is climbing an oak overhanging the River Chet, just at the point I strike up a conversation with a local. Ten minutes into the conversation and with noises coming from behind me, I have the surreal pleasure of pointing out my girlfriend, "Yea she's the one in the tree." Soon after that comes the "Danny the Champion" experience: Sue's not great with birds, so the moment half-a-dozen pheasants ambush her in the trees proves interesting. Interesting, if you like a lot of screaming and flapping.


But best of all is the part where we come across a crew of ten people doing some dredging work on a new canal. No let's be accurate: one guy's operating the digger while the remainder in what look like brand new helmets and high vis jackets, stand, hands in pockets enjoying the sunshine. It looks like a civil engineers' convention and I am about to spoil it. At the moment I take the photo, one of them sees me, shouts and suddenly they scatter faster than the aforementioned pheasants. I'm guessing they're alarmed at the prospect of my photo getting back to the people who pay their wages.

Finally on the home stretch, the skies darken and the rain arrives, but by then it doesn't matter because in the words of American DJ, Wolfman Jack - "it had been a toe-curlin' blast."

Location:Pottergate,Norwich,United Kingdom

Pilson Green Declared Safe

Today's trip out was very much a last minute thing. Looking at a map and googling stuff, I picked out Pilson Green in South Walsham and that's when the fun started. The first hit listed Pilson Green as a "chav town" with high levels of anti-social behaviour. What! The second hit was for a windmill and the third said, and I quote, "our missing person tracing process in Pilson Green has helped locate thousands of people over the years..."

Well, I'm sorry I simply don't believe it. And what's more I was going there to prove it.



Taking no chances, I set off that afternoon with a stab vest and sun glasses. Five minutes on and I was driving the Acle Strait, with thunder rumbling overhead, like a Stranglers' bass line. Another two minutes and I was driving in the rain and more worryingly the dark. It was 2.20.

A lucky break in the cloud enabled me to see again and park up by the pond on the Green. Nervous about chavs and the weather I strode off down Fleet Lane to explore. Obviously this was a popular route, because there was a visitors' centre, enterprisingly housed in a telephone box. Less to vandalise I guess. Down the far end of the lane were lots of posh houses, all with names like "Broadview" and "Riverview."They also had high fences, so in reality you got f*** all view.

Now I'd only come expecting to see a pond and the accompanying low life, so stumbling across a five mile riverside walk was something of a bonus. At one point, in a scene straight out of "Great Expectations" I stood alone on a bend in the river, with a panorama across the marshes, straining my eyes as I looked for runaways - but nothing. Sadly the rain curtailed my walk but the outing was a useful reminder that you don't have to always travel to North Norfolk. The good news is that it's all here ... and close by.


And more good news: at no point in the afternoon was anybody stabbed; nobody offered me drugs on the tow path; and in the entire history of East Anglia I doubt whether anyone has been abducted while feeding ducks at the pond. With that knowledge I declare Pilson Green safe for visitors.

Location:Manor Gardens,Hopton on Sea,United Kingdom

The Magic Of Wheatfen

Now generally I don't trust a man in a fleece or a big wooly jumper, but in the case of Nobbsy, the warden at Wheatfen I'm prepared to make an exception. Here was a man who knew his fauna from his fungi. A man whose job was simple: namely to maintain the 130 acres of strange swampland that make up one of the last tidal marshes in the Yare valley.

So what was I doing here, just a mile away from last week's destination in Bramerton. A mile it may have been, but as Mike my old Peckham school friend (and the person who suggested this visit), assured me, it might as well have been a million miles. And so it proved to be.


The Ted Ellis Trust, endorsed by David Bellamy and aided by Anneka Rice, was set up to preserve the area and honour the man who worked here for forty years: a man whose philosophy as a naturalist was, "to look after the area, by not looking after it." Pay attention Michael Gove.

What you've got here, is a place that is completely unspoiled: an oasis of calm, suggestive of a time when life was much simpler. Just a two mile stroll will take you through a varied environment: watch the fast-filling dykes; peer through the creepy forest, suggestive of dark spirits; and walk winding paths with the consistency of sponge pudding. This primitive playground is perfect for ambling and relaxing, while contemplating a more spiritual lifestyle. Unsurprisingly there is a Buddhist retreat just up the road. If you want picnic tables and a souvenir shop - look elsewhere. But for the rest of us, a morning spent here is as good a form of self-medication as I can come up with.

Nobbsy says the place is spectacular after a frost. I hope to be back to see.

Location:Manor Gardens,Hopton on Sea,United Kingdom

Autumn Arrives In Bramerton

It was that time of year again: that time when summer gets re-acquainted with autumn. In fact I'm thinking Sue and I were there when the official handover took place.

Recommended by Sylvie we were in Bramerton, a small riverside village, just spitting distance from Norwich and a smart choice for those who like to walk but are reluctant to venture too far from the nearest pub.


The walk was indeed lovely: a circular route, branching off the much longer Wherryman's Way. If you like variety, this was perfect, leading as it did, across the common, along the river bank, up High Hill, through tunnelled lanes, and down grassy dells. At one point we followed a path through forest, alongside allotments and across people's back gardens, evoking memories of that scene in "Hot Fuzz," where the fat copper trashes the fencing.

We talked as we walked, sorting our diaries for the month ahead, aware only of a warm breeze, a distant buzz saw and the noise of stuff falling from the trees. That would be the sound of autumn arriving.

With hearts pumping and spirits lifted, we arrived at the Waters Edge, better known to you lot, as the Woods End. In the pub, Sue's first words were, "I wouldn't want to mess with that guy." "That guy" turned out to be le grand fromage and he couldn't have been nicer.

Somebody has thrown a lot of money at this pub - and why wouldn't you given the wonderful location. If you like a view with your meal, real ales, lots of light coloured wood and those high stools you need crampons to scale then you'll love this place. Just bring plenty of cash.

Location:Manor Gardens,Hopton on Sea,United Kingdom