Wenhaston Doom

02 Tue Dec 2025

Posted by in architecture, churches, Days out, Rural Diary

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It is strange how one can live for years near to places of beauty or interest but never get around to visiting them.  There always seem to be other things to do and of course these places will always be there, won’t they? And we will always be able to get to them whenever we like – yes?  Elinor and I decided to visit one on a very warm afternoon in June this year.

Wenhaston church

Wenhaston is about ten miles from where we live, is fairly near to Southwold on the coast, and is surrounded by farms and heathland.  Not too far away is Bulcamp, the site of a battle in the year 654 between the Anglian King Anna and the Mercian King Penda.  Anna and a couple of his sons were killed during the battle.  A workhouse was built at Bulcamp in 1764 which then became a fever hospital and has now been converted into apartments.  A little bleak and isolated for my liking. There is a nice pub in Wenhaston and I think the choir I belonged to years ago performed a concert or two in the village hall. I also had to take Alice to Wenhaston once a week for guitar lessons for a while.

Plants on the churchyard wall

Mexican fleabane

Perforate St John’s-wort

Wenhaston church

Wenhaston church

Elinor and I had come to see the church which is situated in the middle of the village.  It is referred to in the Domesday Book and part of it is of Saxon origin.  For many years it was looked after by Blythburgh Priory but like lots of churches in this country it suffered much during the reign of Edward VI and also during the Commonwealth of England under Oliver Cromwell.  William Dowsing‘s men visited in 1643 and according to the Wenhaston church guide book ‘did a lot of damage, breaking the stained glass, taking down the carved angels from the roof, removing the organ and the font cover, destroying the altar, hacking the pulpit about and much else besides’.  What they didn’t find was the Doom which the people of the parish had covered with whitewash many years earlier during Edward’s reign when he had demanded the destruction of all roods and the abolition of paintings and pictures in church.  For three centuries and more it stayed undiscovered and forgotten on the rood beam, whitewashed and painted over with passages from the Bible.

Scale model of the church on a windowsill

The bell-tower with the ropes lifted high, out of the reach of the hoi-polloi. There are six bells, two of which are medieval and probably came from Blythburgh Priory.

Here are the local Constable’s manacles for the stocks hanging up in the vestry. Redundant now of course, and there is no local constable any more either. I think that is a truncheon hanging there too!

In 1892 the East end of the church was rebuilt.  During the dismantling of the roof the rood beam was discovered intact and to still have its original paint and gilding.  The whitewashed Doom was removed plank by plank and thrown out into the churchyard for later destruction.  Fortunately, it rained heavily during that night and in the morning the painting underneath was beginning to emerge from under the whitewash.  The whole Doom was cleaned and experts were called in to assess its provenance.  The Doom was put on display and people paid to see it; the proceeds of which helped to pay for the rebuilding of the roof and the church was then able to get even more repairs done.  The new chancel arch was too narrow for the Doom to be replaced in its old position so for a while it was put on the West wall of the church where there was a gallery.  The gallery was removed in 1927 so that the Doom could be seen more easily and sometime later the Doom was placed where it is now on the North wall.

The Doom

The Doom is a representation of the Last Judgement.  It was probably painted in about 1520 or just before then, the date partly based on the style of the Virgin Mary’s bodice as depicted in the Doom. The villagers had started saving for the work to be done during the 1480’s. Dooms were usually placed on the chancel arch which separates the Nave where the common people worship – the Church Militant – and the Chancel, where the priests lead the worship – the Church Triumphant.  A rood screen was often placed at the chancel arch, which added to the seclusion of the chancel, and the sculpted or carved figures of Our Lord on the Cross with the Virgin Mary on one side and St John the Baptist on the other were placed on the top of the rood beam.  In this church the figures of the rood were attached to the Doom.  The figures have long since disappeared but their position and shape can be seen by the blank spaces on the Doom painting.

At the top of the Doom on the left is God as Christ seated on a rainbow and displaying His wounds.  At the top on the right are the Virgin Mary and St John the Baptist kneeling in prayer.  (Sadly my photograph of these two latter figures wasn’t good enough to show here).

This is God appearing as Christ, the Son of Man

Beneath the figures of the Virgin and St John is the Archangel Michael with the Devil. The early Church adapted many pagan customs and ideas to Christian purposes in order to ease the transition from the pagan life to that of being a Christian.  One such custom was the idea of a messenger from Heaven and therefore the attributes of the Roman god Mercury were assumed by the Archangel Michael who became the guide of the dead.  Mercury weighed souls in classical mythology so now Michael holds the scales in his left hand.  His right hand holds his sword and he wears a circlet surmounted by a cross on his head.  The circlet at the time was very fashionable in Northern European and also English art.  You can see resurrected souls behind Michael and the Devil wending their way towards St Peter. The dead have arisen as naked as they were when they were created and all aged about 33, the age at which Christ was thought to have died.

The Archangel Michael and the Devil

The Devil is wearing ragged sleeves and trousers which, according to the guide book, suggests the outfit worn by the Devil when the Wenhaston actors visited the seaside village of Walberswick in the late 15th century.  The Walberswick churchwardens described the entertainment as the ‘Wenhaston game’.  There is a second face painted on the Devil’s belly.  This is an artistic convention often seen in late medieval painting which suggests that the Devil’s soul had been put at the service of his lower appetite and he was no better than a brute.  The Latin text says ‘N(unc) quo deest tu facias tabo amnesta – now for what is lacking may you give pardon for sin’.  This is for the benefit of these two (rather cute) little souls in the upper pan of the scales as they are weighed against the single pure soul in the lower pan.

Beneath the image of Christ are the resurrected souls appearing above ground and their headgear – crowns, tiaras and mitres – have been included to show their station in life. Usually, the rich and powerful are seen mixing with ordinary mortals in Dooms to show equality on Judgement Day but in the Wenhaston Doom they are set apart for some reason.  Meeting them is St Peter in his papal tiara representing The Church which alone had the power to admit men and women to eternal life through the Sacraments.

St Peter and the Resurrected.

The sheep and the goats have been separated and the sheep are admitted to the heavenly Mansions.  This is shown on the far left of the Doom.

‘Do come in and make yourselves at home!’

The goats however, have only the eternal fires and gnashing of teeth to look forward to.  On the far right of the Doom little devils gather up the accursed and cast them into the jaws of Hell which are depicted here as the gaping, toothed mouth of a fish.  Leviathan, a huge aquatic creature is often mentioned in Hebrew poetry and this led to commentators and artists seeing Satan as Leviathan.  In the picture there is also a person still wearing their shroud, a swine’s snout, a devil blowing on a ram’s horn (the last trump?), the damned encircled by red-hot chains and the Seven Deadly Sins are represented, one of them carrying a female figure upside-down.

The text underneath the Doom is probably Elizabethan and is from an unknown version of the English Bible.  Romans 13 vv 1-4

“Let every soule submit him selfe unto the authorytye of the hygher powers for there is no power but of God the Powers that be are ordyend of God, but they that rest or are againste the ordinaunce of God shall recyve to them selves utter damnacion.  For rulers are not fearfull to them that do good but to them that do evyll for he is the mynister of God”.

I am greatly indebted to the excellent guide book I bought at the church for the explanation of the Doom’s symbolism.

Elinor in her red hat contemplating the Doom. The wooden panelling you can see beyond her under the windows are the repurposed box pews.

The interior of the church looking Eastward towards the altar

The Font – a Seven Sacrament font but unfortunately the reliefs that had been in the arched panels were erased in the 19th century. Behind the font is the George III Royal Arms

The East window

A map of the parish

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Above is a gallery of all the windows in the church and below is the door.

The outside of the South door, the main entrance to the church. The door retains the medieval sanctuary knocker.

A cupboard with a catch

The Charity Board

Part of the new chancel arch from 1892

More carved panelling from the box pews.

The Nave roof

Part of a memorial to Reverend J Leman who died in Bath.

Medieval Holy water stoup on the outside of the church next to the door

Chest tombs
Chest tomb

Apologies for the length of this post.

Holiday in Brittany: August 1999. Part 3

19 Wed Nov 2025

Posted by in Brittany, family, Rural Diary

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After nearly a year of not posting anything on my blog I have decided, at last, that I ought to do something about it.  It has been a difficult year in many ways but especially because my siblings, my husband, daughters and I have been dealing with my mother’s death and the associated tasks of sorting out all her belongings and trying to sell her house.  I may go into that in more detail in another post.  As going out and taking photos has not been a priority recently I haven’t many adventures to relate so I have decided to carry on with my record of our holiday in Brittany when our daughters were very much younger than they are now.  Please see here https://asuffolklane.com/2024/03/12/holiday-in-brittany-august-1999/ and here https://asuffolklane.com/2024/03/24/holiday-in-brittany-august-1999-part-2/ to remind yourselves of the holiday so far.

ooOOoo

Tuesday 24th August

When we woke the rain had stopped but everything was very wet.  Richard drove to Lanvénégen and bought croissants, pains aux chocolat and two long, thin pains aux campagne for our breakfast.

We had an early lunch at Le Grand Pont on the R. Ellé outside Le Faouët.  The inn is next to the chapel of Ste Barbe and became quite busy just after we arrived.  Alice had wanted to visit the Witchcraft Museum (I don’t believe this exists any more) but as the key had to be obtained from the staff in the inn and they were so busy we didn’t go in, to Alice’s disappointment.

We then drove to Pont Scorff Zoo which Elinor really enjoyed.  We all got very hot and tired as we were not expecting the zoo to be so large or for the weather to get so warm.

We returned to the gîte via Les Roche du Diable so that Alice could take photos for her school art-work.  Elinor fell off the low garden wall when we got back.  We then ate our evening meal of ham and cheese and finished the bread.

We all admired the beautiful full moon Richard pointed out to us before going to bed.

Wednesday 25th August

Richard went out to get croissants and bread for us again this morning.  It really is so pleasant eating breakfast all together – and such a nice breakfast too!  We didn’t want to do much today as we had been in the car such a lot over the past few days.  We sat in the sun and read and then Richard took Elinor for a walk to see the geese and the horses.  We ate bread and paté for lunch and Breton Cake for pudding.

At about 3.30pm we went into Le Faouët to do a supermarket shop and to get more postcards.  Richard cooked us risotto for tea.  The owls were very noisy after dark.  Alice drank a couple of small glasses of red wine tonight and got a bit merry.  She swung on the swing and lay on the grass outside for a while.  She then came back into the house, did some wiping up while I washed the dishes and then went off to listen to her music in her room.  When Richard and I decided to go to bed about 11.30pm we realised we hadn’t seen or heard Alice for some time. She had fallen asleep in her clothes and needed a bit of help in finding her pyjamas and getting comfortable.  No more wine for Alice for a while !

Thursday 26th August

We all woke later than usual this morning so we decided to bath Elinor and wash her hair after breakfast.  Unfortunately, the bathroom stool broke decanting Richard onto the floor – more bruises added to the earlier ones!  Wood glue added to shopping list.

We set off for Quimperlé just after midday and drove along a winding hilly road through little villages.  We parked the car near the river in the centre of the town and went to the tourist office to get a town plan.  As we were all hungry (when weren’t we hungry on this holiday?!) and as restaurants and cafés in Brittany only serve food between 12.00 midday and 2.00pm we went off in search of somewhere to eat.  We decided on a pizzeria; its entrance was a covered bridge over the river.  The food was very good but Elinor didn’t eat much.

Elinor with her drink and Pingu comic.

Alice and me on the bridge to the pizzeria.

After lunch we walked round the town going first to the Haute-Ville.  On the way, Alice went into a shop to buy post cards and a diary.  The shop keeper gave her two chewy sweets!  We found a large, well laid-out square, Place St Michel, where Richard posted my postcards for me. We visited L’Église Notre-Dame-de-L’Assomption which had a charcuterie stuck onto the east wall!

The road up to the upper town.

Church with charcuterie.

We then walked down the hill to the river again and the Bas-Ville.  We crossed the river by the Pont Fleurie, a very pretty ancient bridge.  We saw a tiled fish hall and then went to a park on the banks of the Ellé for a rest.  Alice’s feet were suffering as she was wearing high heels.  We walked back to the car via the Rue Dom-Maurice which has beautiful 16th century half-timbered houses.

Elinor in push-chair, Alice and me next to the river. The old bridge in the distance.

Alice and me on the bridge.

Timberframed houses.

We drove back to the gite via Querrien, a pretty village we had driven through on Tuesday.  We parked in the square by the church and Richard and I got out to look around.  This was a very well-kept village with a mayor’s office, a small supermarket and a number of other little shops  – two boulangeries! – and a library.  We looked at a restaurant but they hadn’t put up their menu or price-list yet and then went to buy bread and pastries.  We decided that if we lived in France this is where we’d live.

We had another bread and cheese tea which we all enjoy and Elinor went happily to bed at about 9.00pm.  Richard told me what a lovely, still evening it was so we went out for ten minutes or so listening to the owls, the crickets and the horses.  When the farm dog barked we noticed what a wonderful echo there was.

 

More next time!

 

 

 

Excuses, Excuses!

03 Tue Dec 2024

Posted by in family, Rural Diary

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Dear All;  and you are all very dear to me and I have been thinking of you a lot over the past many months.  Some of you may have forgotten all about me, some may have been wondering where I had got to, others may already know what I have been doing.

If you have been reading my blog for some time you will know that I am married to Richard, I have two daughters – one married and living in Sheffield and the other still at home with us. I have also been caring for my mother for fourteen years since my father died in 2010.  My news is that after a short illness my mother died on the 24th of October this year and I was by her side as she passed away.

Since about this time last year I had become more and more concerned about Mum and had been spending more time with her and, when not with her, anxiously trying to find ways of helping her which wouldn’t appear to interfere with her fierce (and I use that word advisedly) independence.  Mum was ninety-four when she died and was proud of the fact that she had been able to look after herself in her own home with no carers or home-help until just a very few weeks before her death.  She wanted no interference from anybody!  (My help was not considered home-help because she wouldn’t let me do any of her housework or cooking and she knew I would normally do as I was told.  Her sight was very poor and if I was quick and quiet I often managed to do a couple of things before I was called to order!)  I am also proud of her but because of her pride she didn’t ask for help when she needed it and she probably had more discomfort at the end than she should have had.

As soon as I realised how ill she had become I tried to get help for her.  This proved difficult at first because Mum denied she was ill when she spoke to the nurse and doctor I had telephoned! I spent a week nursing her alone and trying to get help for her.  Eventually, nurses and doctors turned up at her house and then a hospital bed was delivered.  Carers then came in twice a day to get her out of bed in the morning and then put her back in the evening. After a week of this increased help it was decided she was too ill to be at home and was taken to hospital.  There they discovered she had numerous things the matter with her on top of the rare bacterial infection that had been diagnosed at home. She had pressure sores.  Her heart was not working properly and because of this she had been taken off her high-blood-pressure tablets before going into hospital.  She had two oesophageal ulcers (which were treated in hospital), she was emaciated because she hadn’t been eating properly for months, though I had tried to encourage her to eat (I knew nothing of the ulcers!), she had bronchial trouble and no strength to cough, her hands and legs were swollen and she had to have her wedding ring cut off, which upset her.

During the first two weeks in hospital we were hopeful that she would recover enough to leave and go into a nursing home.  But, it was not to be.  She might have had a stroke because her speech became slurred and she lost the strength to move herself unaided.  She died in hospital a week later in a side room of the busy, overcrowded medical ward where she had been treated; too sick to be moved to a hospice and with no proper palliative care.  My sister and I did what we could to help but it wasn’t enough to make her comfortable.

The funeral took place the week before last and my sister and brother and Richard and I are now sorting out her house and belongings in readiness for the house sale, once probate has been granted.  It is sad and weary work.

On the plus side, we have found some fabulous photos of many family members past and present.  Mum wrote, but never shared with us at the time or since, two accounts of camping holidays we took in Scotland and the Welsh borders sometime in the late 60’s and early 70’s.  This has proved to be a treasure!

We have met up with most of our cousins and we are trying to organise some kind of regular meet-up that isn’t a funeral.

Mum’s best friend’s daughter came to the funeral and we will definitely see more of her in future.  When I told my sister on our sibling WhatsApp chat group that Fiona was coming to the funeral her response was “OMG – Moriarty!!”  As children we went to Fiona’s birthday parties each year until we were old enough to get out of going to them.  Because Fiona is an only child her Mum, who was a teacher, used to invite some of the children from the class she taught to the party as well as Fiona’s special friends, and us. One of the party games I dreaded was called Moriarty.  One child (usually the largest and strongest boy) was chosen, was blindfolded and given a cosh made of a roll of newspapers.  We all had to lie on our stomachs on one side of the living room. Those of us without the cosh and blindfold had to crawl on our stomachs to the other side of the room without being caught.  The one with the cosh bellowed “Are you there, Moriarty?” and then lay about him with the newspapers thumping anyone who got within his reach.  This terrified me and I did my best to get up against any wall or underneath the furniture until the danger was over.

One of my nieces started a couple of JustGiving sites for two of Mum’s favourite charities, Marie Curie and The Sailors Society and we have been very touched by the amount of money people have donated and by the lovely comments people have made on the sites.

I hope to get back to blogging properly again some time in the near future, probably in the new year.  In the mean time, thank you all for sticking with me and following my blog despite the silence from me.  I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Holiday in Brittany – August 1999. Part 2.

24 Sun Mar 2024

Posted by in Brittany, Days out, France, holidays, Rural Diary

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Here follows the next episode of our Brittany holiday.  I thought I would include here an example of Breton folk music just so you can get an idea of the kind of music we heard when we arrived in Brittany.  I also apologise for the grainy and blurred photos.

Sunday 22nd August

This is where we were staying. I believe the building was a converted barn and the house where the owners lived is the taller building with the chimneys at the back.

We decided that we would not do much today and just get used to being in our cottage in France.  The weather was nice so we sat outside quite a lot.

View from the gîte.

Another view.

We drove into Le Faouët during the early evening and went to a Breton crêperie for tea.  We all enjoyed our meal and decided we would return there sometime soon.

Richard didn’t feel too well during the evening and went to bed early.  (Over-tired probably!).

 

Monday 23rd August

A foggy start to the day.

The day began well but we soon had our first accident with Alice breaking one of the plates as she was wiping up after we had washed the breakfast things.  (We are an accident-prone family!).  Richard took Elinor out to play on the swings but the swing broke and Richard badly burnt his arm on the rope as he tried to break his and Elinor’s fall.  After patching up his arm and having a cup of tea we decided we would go for a scenic drive during the afternoon to the Étang du Bel Air and the Scorff valley.  We cooked some soup for our lunch.

Alice and Elinor on the swing.

Everyone wanted a swing!

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Shortly before setting off for our drive, Elinor fell down the steps from the sitting area onto the hard tiles in the dining area.  We didn’t realise at the time but she had landed on her ear and badly bruised it.

Another view
… and another!

We drove through Le Faouët and, via L’Abbaye Notre-Dame de Langonnet, on to Priziac which is next to L’Étang du Bel Air.  We walked a little way round the lake until Elinor got tired and Alice began complaining of hunger and cold.  We returned to the little beach near the car-park where a café was just opening and bought coffee and crisps and Alice bought an ice-cream.  The ideal food to eat when you are cold!

The link below will lead you to some pictures of the lake courtesy of google maps and the photographers who have donated their photos to that site.

https://www.google.co.uk/maps/place/%C3%89tang+du+Bel-Air+(Priziac)/@48.060833,-3.422222,3a,75y,90t/data=!3m8!1e2!3m6!1sAF1QipNYWgEdiVJ1xESRARXWMaQmEjVSoJRR-nltk3VE!2e10!3e12!6shttps:%2F%2Flh5.googleusercontent.com%2Fp%2FAF1QipNYWgEdiVJ1xESRARXWMaQmEjVSoJRR-nltk3VE%3Dw360-h172-k-no!7i5446!8i2617!4m7!3m6!1s0x4811aaf04b63c65f:0x7b65e6109b4eb1cf!8m2!3d48.060833!4d-3.422222!10e5!16s%2Fg%2F112yg5mzy?entry=ttu

We then drove to Kernascléden via le Croisty and St-Caradec-Trégomel.  We looked at the church which has medieval paintings in it and then went to the toy museum.  (I looked on-line to see if the toy museum is still going and unfortunately I don’t believe it is.  There are some images of the museum but I think they are old pictures.)  We bought some postcards and groceries from a shop before driving off to the Scorff valley with its beautiful scenery.  We stopped at a likely place by the R. Scorff and Richard and Alice got out of the car.  A kingfisher flew past and they saw lots of pond skaters (insects) in the calmer parts of the river.  Next, we drove to Plouay where I used a public toilet (most unpleasant!) and then travelled on to Les Roches du Diable and looked at the wonderful rock formations on the R. Ellé.The rocks are supposed to have been thrown by the devil at Saint Winwaloe who had set up home by the river but the saint outwitted and defeated the devil.  The rocks show the devil’s claw marks on them.

We drove back to our cottage and Richard cooked us pasta and sauce for our evening meal followed by crêpes.  The rain started as we got home and continued to fall very heavily almost all night long.

Holiday in Brittany: August 1999

12 Tue Mar 2024

Posted by in France, holidays, Rural Diary

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During a lull in the first year of the pandemic we managed to get our loft re-insulated.  We cleared the area of all our stored boxes and bags and also disposed of a large amount things we no longer needed as well as spare tiles and other decorating material left there by the previous owner. The firm we employed to do the insulation were extremely efficient, did the job quickly and neatly and cleared away all the old insulation material. We are very pleased with the results as it keeps the house cooler in summer and warmer in winter.

All the time we had lived in this house (we moved here in 2006) I had know that a number of boxes of mine were up in the loft but had never quite felt ready to get someone to help me bring them down so I could sort them out.  Therefore, I was very pleased to find my collection of knitting and sewing patterns and a few large cardboard boxes of papers, letters and other miscellaneous odds and ends.  I went through all of these things and disposed of what needed to go.  One or two plastic crates of papers went back up into the loft but all my knitting patterns stayed where I can find them and a couple of things that I thought might be useful were also kept down in the house.  One of those things was a paper bag containing short diaries from two holidays we had had in Brittany with a collection of maps and mementoes.  When I read much-missed Susan’s wonderful posts on her travels round Europe I began to think I ought to make a scrapbook of all my holiday memories.  Of course, I still haven’t got round to doing it but I also thought I might copy out my holiday diaries into this blog and scan some of the photos I took at the time.  The two holidays were in 1999 and 2002 when our daughters were very young and so were we (well, relatively young).

I will begin with our holiday in 1999 and present it in short(ish) installments.  I will also annotate it at times to make the meaning a little clearer.  Annotations are in brackets.  In late August 1999 I was nearly 41 years of age, Richard had just had his 46th birthday, Alice had had her 14th birthday in July and Elinor was 2 and a half years old.  At that time we were living in a cottage in Rumburgh just over two miles away from the house we are living in now.  Remember too, that in 1999 most people didn’t have mobile phones and digital cameras.  At the time, our cameras were the old-fashioned sort with film casettes/reels that needed to be developed by a professional. We didn’t take that many pictures!

                                                                o o O O o o

Friday 20th August 1999

Richard packed everything into the car, I took William (the cat) to the cattery and to our great surprise we managed to set off in good time in the middle of the afternoon.  We were off on our first ever holiday to Brittany and would be staying in a gîte, travelling by car and crossing the English Channel by ferry.

Thanks to atlasdigitalmaps.com. This map shows the south-east of England.  If you look at the top right of the map and you have excellent eyesight you’ll see the towns of Southwold on the coast and Halesworth a few miles inland. Rumburgh is about four miles north-west of Halesworth.  Portsmouth is at the bottom of the map, just left of centre and north of the Isle of Wight.

We had to travel a circuitous route to Portsmouth to avoid accidents and delays on the M25 (the infamous London orbital motorway).  (Going by the most direct route the distance to Portsmouth from home is about 200 miles and on a good day would take just under four hours).  We stopped in Surrey for tea (meal and drink) and then the last leg of the journey to Portsmouth was fairly short and trouble-free.  We found the ferry port easily and after an hour’s wait we boarded the ferry.  However, through not reading our ticket thoroughly enough and not knowing the layout of the ship we had clambered up to Deck 8 before realising our cabin was on Deck 2!  Richard and I left Alice with the six or seven bags on Deck 8 and went to find our cabin.  We had also realised we had left Elinor’s changing bag in the car and had to ask permission to go back to Deck 3 to fetch it.  We took Elinor with us as she cried loudly when left with Alice.  Eventually, everyone was together in our cabin with all our luggage and the ferry had set sail.  We went up to a self-service restaurant and we all had a drink.  Alice then decided she wanted to see a film so we left her at a cinema and Elinor and I went back to our cabin to get ready for bed.  Richard accompanied us there and then went off to have a drink in a bar.  Apparently, the bar was very lively with a band playing and then a magician.  Both Alice and Richard arrived back at the cabin within minutes of each other at about 11.30pm and were soon in bed.  The cabin was small but well laid out with a tiny WC and shower-room attached and we all had enough room.  It was an inside cabin, was air-conditioned and lit by electric light so one quickly lost perception of time.  I became a little claustrophobic and wheezy (I have asthma) and had some trouble getting comfortable.  However, being in a cabin was much better than having to get Elinor and Alice to sleep in one of the lounges as others had to do.  Elinor woke for about an hour during the night as her nose started running and she was sneezing.  (Elinor didn’t manage to sleep through the night until she was three years old.  The first time she did it and we had had our first undisturbed night in years we thought she had died!)  I woke again at 5.00am and got dressed at 5.30.  Richard woke and dressed at 6.00 and then we woke Alice and Elinor at about 6.30 as we were to dock at 7.00 am.  Elinor was a bit upset at being woken so early but soon calmed down when I gave her a Pingu comic.

Saturday 21st August 1999

We found the car and packed everyone and everything into it quickly and waited for permission to leave the boat.  It was wonderful to see the bright sunlight flooding into the car deck as the doors were opened.

Thanks to orangesmile.com for the map. This is a map of Brittany and St Malo is at the top right of the map. Le Faouët is at D5.

We eventually drove out onto St. Malo docks and then followed the ‘tout directions’ sign posts out of the town.  Somewhere near Dinan Richard stopped for more diesel and we then continued past Lamballe, St. Brieuc, Quintin, Corlay and Rostrenen.  By 10.30 we had arrived at the small town of Glomel, all very hungry and needing a break.  We parked the car and were getting Elinor out and into her pushchair when we realised that a wedding was about to take place.  Cars arrived with little pale blue net bows tied to their aerials or windscreen wipers.  Guests were walking about in their best clothes and with blue ribbon corsages on their lapels.  We walked up through the town to a café where we ordered drinks; orange juice for Alice and coffees for Richard and me.  Elinor had her own drink with her.  We heard car horns hooting and looked down the road to see the bride arriving in an old Citroën.  We heard bagpipe and reed pipe music playing as she was led into a building for the civil ceremony.  Richard went off to a boulangerie and bought pains aux raisins and pains aux chocolat which we were able to eat outside the café (which wasn’t serving food at that moment).  We were sitting opposite the church and we saw more guests beginning to arrive.  A large 4×4 Mitsubishi pulled up with two besom broomsticks tied to the back and a grotesque blow-up woman sitting in a pushchair tied to the roof.   When the civil ceremony finished the bride, groom and wedding party were led up the main street in a procession to the church by two men, one playing a talabard (the reedpipe) and the other playing the bagpipes (a binioù).  We left after they had entered the church at 11.00.  (I wish that one of us had taken a photo or two but our cameras were packed away in the car and those of you who have had children know how preoccupied with them one can be especially when they are away from home).  As we drove out Richard pointed out the large stand for photographs which had been erected outside the church.

Map of Le Faouët in the Morbihan district of Bretagne Sud (south Brittany). This map shows the town and it’s surrounding villages.

Street map of the town. The tourist office kindly marked the route we needed to take.

A postcard picture of the Halle.

We arrived in Le Fauoët about half an hour later and parked in the main square.  The large 16th century Halle had a market in it but we didn’t go in. We went to a café and had more drinks and then walked round the town and looked for somewhere to eat.  However, everywhere was very full so we decided we’d go to the supermarket and buy everything we’d need for the next few days and go on to Lanvénégen where we would be staying and try to eat at the café there.  We called in at the tourist office and got a lot of local information and the directions out of the town to Lanvénégen. 

Unfortunately, the café in Lanvénégen was closed until the 5th September so we drove on to St. Thurien, noting where the gîte was, and then on to Bannalec not finding anywhere open for lunch.  We had yet more drinks in Bannalec and then agreed to go to the gîte and risk arriving too early.  In fact it was gone 3.45 pm by the time we arrived at the Manoir des Lescreant.  Annie and Erick were very welcoming and we met their little daughter Emma too.  We unpacked the car and ate some bread and cheese.  We discovered that we had bought fermented milk by mistake – this is a very runny, cheesey, live yogurt – no good for Elinor or cups of coffee or tea!  Richard and I went back to the supermarket and got some sterilised milk (no fresh milk available in Brittany’s shops at that time) and more food for the evening meal.

At last, we settled down for the evening, the only excitement being the horses escaping from their field and finding their way onto the field outside our gîte.  Elinor settled down for the night surprisingly quickly and we all slept quite well.

More next time….!

Bungay Re-visited.

27 Tue Feb 2024

Posted by in architecture, churches, plants, Rural Diary, walking

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This last autumn and winter have been especially wet, so walking from home has not often been possible because of the mud and deep puddles everywhere.  In fact, I don’t think I have walked along our lanes since the autumn, though Richard has – he is a hardier soul than me!  The field paths are probably very squelchy and much too difficult for me to walk on as well.  Most of my recent walking has been town or city-based when I have driven to Norwich, Halesworth, Beccles, Harleston or Bungay to shop.

I have taken a few photos, mainly with my phone during my recents trips to Bungay and I thought I would share some of them with you.

When I first moved to East Anglia in the 80’s I was told that in former times there used to be lots of mistletoe here but it had virtually disappeared from this part of Suffolk.  It had mainly grown on apple trees and when the fruit farmers decided that growing apples had become uneconomical because of cheap imports, many of the old orchards were grubbed up and the mistletoe went too.  Recently, I have noticed mistletoe making a come-back, mainly in the towns rather than the countryside.  Mistletoe is a partial parasite and makes it’s home on a variety of trees – apple, lime, hawthorn, poplar, maple and willow and the best time to see it is during the winter when the host trees have lost their leaves.  There are many trees in Bungay with mistletoe but I have just included three examples.

The darker masses on this tree (I think it’s a hawthorn) opposite the Co-Op supermarket are mistletoe plants (Viscum album )

Balls of mistletoe on trees in-between where the Co-Op is situated and the centre of the town.

Mistletoe on trees at a road junction.

A little further on from the road junction and close to the centre of town is a road called Wharton Street and that is where the library is.  On the opposite side of the road to the library is a house sporting a popular architectural feature seen on many houses in Suffolk; an oriel window.

House with oriel window.

Probably because parts of Bungay were owned by the Dukes of Norfolk who are Roman Catholic, Bungay has a fine Roman Catholic church and an attached Roman Catholic primary school.

A poor picture of the Roman Catholic church in Bungay taken from the church yard belonging to the redundant Church of England Priory Church of St Mary next door.

The Priory Church of St Mary. A redundant church looked after by a charity.

Holy Trinity church.

Holy Trinity church is the parish church in Bungay and is found behind the Abbey Church.  It is a smaller building and so easier to look after than the enormous St Mary’s church.  Holy Trinity was not damaged in the dreadful fire during the 1600’s whereas the Abbey church was; two of the people sheltering inside the Abbey church were killed by molten lead from the roof falling on them.

Here is the Butter Cross in the centre of Bungay. A market is held here once a week on a Thursday. Here is more information about the markets in Bungay.

Cork Bricks

This little passageway between houses is called Cork Bricks.  A strange name for an alleyway but during the 1890’s the owner of the house on the left of the photo had the cobbles replaced by cork bricks when his wife was ill and was greatly disturbed by the noise of traffic clattering past the house.  Read here for more information.  If you look at the sign on the archway over the entrance you will see a running black dog on the top.  The dog is ‘Black Shuck‘, a phantom hound that features quite heavily in East Anglian folklore.

Bridge Street

I walked down Bridge Street towards the River Waveney.  The Waveney is the border between Suffolk and Norfolk and once the Falcon Bridge is crossed Bridge Street becomes Ditchingham Dam and we have entered Ditchingham in Norfolk.

Boroughwell Lane

Just a step or two down Bridge Street from the Market Place is a tiny lane off to the right.  This is Boroughwell Lane where the town well was situated.  The lane makes a sharp right turn further along and ends up near Holy Trinity church.

Bridge Street looking back up towards the Market Place with the cream-fronted Chequers Inn on the right.

Bridge Street is a one-way road for cars; drivers can only go down from the Market Place but cyclists, using the cycle lane marked on the left of the carriageway, are able to go up the hill to the market place.

Bridge Street looking down it in the direction of the bridge.

Further along Bridge Street looking towards the Market Place. The houses are painted so brightly and look very cheerful.

On the left of the photo is a red brick house called The Music House and just beyond it you can see an evergreen tree standing at the entrance to a courtyard.

The courtyard.

Both the houses you see here have had well-known people living in them.  The red brick house on the left (The Music House) was once stayed in by the writer, politician, diplomat and historian François-René Vicomte de Chateaubriand.  After being wounded during the Siege of Thionville in 1792 he was exiled to England and spent most of his time living in extreme poverty in London.  For some reason, he came to Bungay and stayed at the house (now the Music House) of a Mr and Mrs Ives.  He fell in love with their seventeen year-old daughter Charlotte but the romance came to an end when Charlotte’s parents discovered that the Vicomte was already married!  The wedding ceremony had taken place shortly before he had gone off to war.  It was a marriage arranged by his family and he had never met his bride before the ceremony.  He was constantly unfaithful to his wife and also changed his allegiance a number of times.  He was appointed to an official position by Napoleon on his return to France but he eventually resigned in disgust after Napoleon had Chateaubriand’s cousin executed.  Chateaubriand published a strongly-worded criticism of Napoleon for which Napoleon threatened to have him sabred on the steps of the Tuileries Palace!  In the end he was just banned from entering Paris.  He eventually returned to England as Ambassador to France in the 1820’s where his personal chef created the Chateaubriand steak dish you might have heard of.

Chateaubriand – self-confessed greatest lover, greatest writer and greatest philosopher of his age! (Thanks to cdn.britannica.com for the image)

The white house in the courtyard, Bridge House, (look! it has an oriel window) was lived in by the writer and actress Elizabeth Jane Howard for the last twenty-four years of her life.  She died in 2014 at the age of ninety. Abused by her father and unloved by her mother she looked for love all through her life and never found what she seeked, a stable, loving relationship.  She was married three times firstly to Peter Scott the naturalist and son of Robert Falcon Scott the explorer, secondly to another writer James Douglas Henry and lastly to Kingsley Amis the novelist.  She moved to Bungay after a friend, the artist Sargy Mann, said the house next-door was for sale and it would suit her.  It did, and she bought it straight away. She loved the long garden which led down to the river and re-designed and re-planted it.  Here is a wonderful obituary written by her friend Hilary Mantel. Elizabeth Jane Howard wrote the Cazalet Chronicles as well as a number of other superb novels.  Her autobiography, Slipstream is one of the most honest I have ever read.  She never glosses over anything she’d rather not admit to as other writers often do.

Elizabeth Jane Howard (with thanks to Babelio.com for the image)

More houses in Bridge Street

The last house before the bridge.

Here I am on the Norfolk side of the bridge looking towards Suffolk.

The River Waveney in its winter gloom.

 

I hope you have enjoyed this tour of a part of Bungay in Suffolk.

Bungay Castle

23 Thu Nov 2023

Posted by in Historic Buildings, Rural Diary

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Bungay Castle gate towers

In my post about Mettingham Castle (https://asuffolklane.wordpress.com/2023/05/15/mettingham-castle/) I mentioned that I visited a cafe next to Bungay Castle and had a cup of tea there.  For my first post in six months I thought that I would tell you about the ruins of Bungay Castle which are hidden behind the main shopping street in the town.  Sadly, it is not possible to walk round them at present as they have become unsafe and the Bungay Castle Trust hasn’t yet made up it’s mind how best to deal with the problem.

Gate towers

The castle was originally built just after the conquest by a William de Noyers who constructed the motte and bailey and some stone fortifications. Roger Bigod who came over to England with William the Conqueror in 1066 was rewarded with a lot of land in England by King William and Bungay was included in this gift.  Shortly after the year 1100 Roger began work on the castle which is almost surrounded by a curve in the River Waveney; a natural defence.  Some say the name Bungay derives from the old French for ‘beautiful island’.

Curtain wall

The Bigods were troublesome barons!  Roger’s son Hugh took part in the civil unrest of 1138-1154, a period in history known as the Anarchy when both Stephen and Matilda claimed they were heirs to the throne of England. Hugh’s loyalty to King Henry II (who was Matilda’s son) was called into question during the early years of his reign so Henry confiscated Bungay Castle but gave it back again in 1165.  It was always thought best to placate powerful barons!

Bungay Castle – more of the curtain wall

Hugh was on the losing side in the revolt of 1173-1174 and his castle at Bungay was besieged, mined and slighted (purposely damaged in such a way as to reduce it’s value) by royal forces.  The site was later restored to the Bigod family and Roger Bigod 5th Earl of Norfolk further developed it and probably built the huge gate towers. Roger had a falling out with Edward I and after Roger’s death the castle reverted to the Crown and was allowed to fall into disrepair and ruin.  The Dukes of Norfolk re-acquired the castle in 1483 and retained ownership until the 20th century except for a short period in the 18th century.  In 1766 the site was sold to Robert Mickleborough who quarried the keep and curtain walls for building materials.  In the early 1790’s the castle remains were bought by Daniel Bonhôte, a local solicitor who sold them back to the Dukes of Norfolk in around 1800.  A dwelling for the poor had at some time been built on the site and other than it’s removal very few repairs were done for several centuries.  You can see the dwelling in the watercolour painting of the castle by the artist James Moore https://collections-test.britishart.yale.edu/catalog/tms:57364

Bungay Castle

Daniel Bonhôte’s wife Elizabeth wrote a Gothic romance called ‘Bungay Castle’ which was published in 1797 a few years after her husband had acquired the site.  I believe the reviews weren’t too good but reprints of the book can still be found on EBay and other second-hand book sites.

Remains of the earthworks which are in a small park next to the castle

The castle remains include the keep, the gatehouse, parts of the curtain wall and remnants of the inner bailey wall.  Parts of the earthworks around the castle are also extant and the whole area was given to the townspeople of Bungay in 1987 by the Duke of Norfolk along with an endowment for its upkeep.  The castle was scheduled in 1915 and was one of the first sites to be protected under the Ancient Monuments Consolidation and Amendment Act 1913.  It was subsequently listed as a Grade 1 Monument in 1949.

More information about Bungay and its castle can be found here and here

Mettingham Castle

15 Mon May 2023

Posted by in Historic Buildings, Rural Diary, walking

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Last May, just over a year ago, I had to take my car to the garage to have new brake discs and pads fitted.  Instead of going back home to wait for the work to be done (which would have meant Richard having to get involved) I decided to stay in Bungay.  Bungay is a pleasant market town but it doesn’t have enough to amuse me for two or three hours in the early morning.  It has a couple of places where I could have a tea or coffee, a museum, a castle and a few useful shops none of which were open.  I decided I would go for for a walk out of the town.  Bungay is situated in the Waveney valley right at the border between Suffolk and Norfolk.  It is surrounded by water meadows.

My route took me up Annis Hill towards Mettingham.

Annis Hill, looking down towards the town

The day was perfect; the first really warm day of spring last year.  The birds were singing and everyone I met was smiling.

I took this photo of an oak tree on my walk (the 6th May 2022) and I can see that greening was more advanced then than it was on the 6th of May this year, which has been quite cold so far.

I loved this long narrow field, almost a ‘ride’ with high hedges on both sides.

Photo-bombed by a bee!

At the top of the hill the road is level and in places the views of the surrounding countryside are wonderful.

I looked over the Cow Parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris) to the wheatfield beyond. Many people in Suffolk call Cow Parsley ‘Sheep’s Parsley’. My husband Richard, who grew up in rural Cheshire called it ‘Mothers Die’ as a boy.

I loved the Horse-chestnut (Aesculus hippocastanum) full of ‘candles’ arching over the lane.

At the far end of this lane there is a bend in the road and I was soon at the place I had been aiming for; Mettingham Castle.  Mettingham Castle is mostly a ruin and is in private hands so I was only able to look at it from a distance.  I think the idea of owning a castle, even a ruined one appeals to many people but the responsiblities and costs are often overlooked. Here is a short history of the village, castle, college and church written by Alfred Suckling in 1846; the foundation deed of the castle is dated 21st August 1342.  Here is the Wikipedia article.  In the past the castle has been open to the public on three days during the year; I am not sure what the present arrangement is.

Mettingham Castle

Mettingham Castle – the gatehouse

Mettingham Castle

Mettingham Castle

Mettingham Castle

Plants growing on the ancient walls

I hadn’t the time to stay longer or walk further so I retraced my steps back to Bungay where I found the café next to Bungay Castle and had a refreshing cup of tea.  I then walked back to the garage and sat for half-an-hour in a rather hot and airless waiting room until my car was ready.

I remember this walk very fondly.

 

Southwold… and Fish and Chips

25 Tue Apr 2023

Posted by in food, Rural Diary, seashore

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Elinor has been extolling the fish and chips her father buys for her when they visit Southwold together.  She tells me I would really like them as the fish is beautifully cooked with a thin crispy batter and the chips are not at all greasy.

She needed a new photograph for the (age) 26 to 30 railcard she was applying for and for the separate ID card to be used when we vote in a few days time.  We thought we could go to the nearest photobooth which is at Morrison’s supermarket in Beccles, eleven miles away, get the photo done and then go to Southwold for lunch. Last Thursday was the ideal day to do it as Richard was going cycling with his friend John and they always have lunch out together.  The forecast was for a dry but windy morning and then rain showers in the afternoon.

We set off at 10.30 am, got to Beccles just after 11.00 and Elinor used the photobooth.  We then drove to Southwold and arrived at midday.  The morning had been glorious with bright sunshine and beautiful blue sky.  The wind was a very strong and cold easterly and this was particularly noticeable on the coast!  We parked at the Pier carpark and walked along the front towards the town.  The tide was in and the sea very rough so Elinor decided not to walk on the beach or even the promenade but along the upper road at the top of the cliff.

The sea at Southwold

Looking towards the Pier

Rough sea at Southwold

Looking down at the sea from the upper road

We noticed quite a large piece of driftwood had been thrown up by the sea next to the groyne.  If you look closely you will see that it is part of the trunk of a long-dead tree.  The woman in the ochre-yellow coat has her hood up against the blast of the wind.  We too, had our winter coats on and hoods up!

Ten minutes walking brought us to the road into the town and the ‘Little Fish & Chip Shop’ in East Street.  Here is a link to the shop.  You will see from the link that this shop is part of the Sole Bay Fish Company which has a restaurant and wet fish shop at the harbour.

The shop is very small with extremely limited seating; one isn’t really expected to ‘eat in’ here. Our order for ‘two haddock and chips’ was taken and we were given pagers which would bleep when the food was ready.  Some people go off and do their shopping and others wait on benches provided in the side alley next to the shop.  We decided to wait.

The view from our bench

There is a wisteria arbour strung with lights and lobster pots and in the summer the shade under the wisteria must be welcome.  The little lights shining in the evening as one waits for one’s food to be cooked must be very pleasant.  As we waited in the chilly alley we saw that the wisteria was just coming into leaf and there were flower buds appearing.

The view from our bench out towards East Street

Collen and Clare, the shop you can see on the opposite side of East Street has managed to survive the pandemic.  It is a shop I might go to if I had a special occasion to buy clothes for.

At last, after fifteen minutes wait, our lunch was ready.  All freshly cooked and looking very good!  We added a little salt to the fish and chips before we left and went to find a bench to sit on while we ate.

Fish and chips!

Elinor was quite right.  I did enjoy my fish and chips and how often does one get parsley and a slice of lemon with take-away F&C?  The key to good fish and chips is frying in lard.  So many shops these days fry in vegetable oil but it does tend to make the food so greasy and the batter soft.  I understand that many people do not wish to eat animal fats or pork products and lard is not particularly good if one is worried about cholesterol.  However, I have take-away fried fish and chips very rarely and a treat now and again is extremely welcome.

By the time we had finished eating, clouds were beginning to appear.  I had a small purchase to make in the stationers before we made our way back to the car.  With the cloud quickly covering the sun and blue sky and the wind becoming even stronger it was a cold walk and we had to bend forward into the wind to get along.  Fortunately, we managed to get all the way home and I’d even made myself a cup of tea by the time the rain started.  Richard arrived home from his cycle ride shortly after that only having got a little damp.

I hope you enjoyed your visit to Southwold!

 

 

Huntingfield Church, Suffolk

13 Thu Apr 2023

Posted by in architecture, art, churches, Rural Diary

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For a number of reasons I have not posted anything on my blog for about a year.  Problems with the internet last Easter, an old laptop, a camera that needs servicing (or replacing), health issues and hardly any walks and journeys to share with you are the main reasons.  The almost complete absence of internet for ten days or so last Easter forced me into the hiatus and when the wi-fi returned I felt strangely unwilling to resume my WordPress and other internet activities. I obviously needed a break from being on-line; not that I am on-line a lot but I was finding I was becoming stressed because I didn’t have the time to read all the posts I wanted to and wasn’t able to comment fully on those posts.

During the last few months I have rediscovered not only the joy of reading all sorts of books but also the satisfaction I get from knitting.  Unfortunately, the gardening came to a halt during the hot summer drought and many of my garden plants died.  I am having to rethink how I will tend my garden in the future.  Richard and I were able to get away for a week’s holiday in early September to the Peak District in Staffordshire; our first break since the summer of 2019.  What a pleasure it was to revisit favourite places and to meet up with Alice and Elinor on my birthday.  Elinor stayed with Alice in Sheffield while Richard and I had our holiday.

Elinor finished her time at the University of Suffolk and was awarded a First Class Honours degree in Graphic Design (Graphic Illustration). We all attended her graduation in October on a very wet and chilly day; how proud we were!

I now have a new lap-top which has made life much easier but as yet, I haven’t been able to do anything about my camera.

May I take this opportunity to thank you all for your kind wishes and thoughtful comments on my posts.  I had no idea that I would spend so long away from my blog and I apologise for not explaining my absence earlier.

I have decided to ease my way back in by sharing a visit Elinor and I made to Huntingfield church last November.

Huntingfield church

This was the first time we had visited this church, which is surprising as it is only just over seven miles from our house.  Years and years ago, my father used to attend mid-week mass here helping the priest as a server or acolyte.

The church was begun in the 11th century but most of the building we see now is from the 15th century.  It is in good repair and has had a number of works of restoration done over the years.

The porch and main door

The church is known locally as the painted church.

Painted ceiling of the nave

detail from the nave ceiling

Detail from the chancel ceiling

Detail from the chancel ceiling

I took more photos of the ceiling with my phone but they weren’t a success. As you can see, the decorations are of more recent date than the church.  Any painting and decoration the church had had originally would have been destroyed or removed during the reign of Henry VIII in the 16th century or during the time of the Commonwealth in the 17th century.  The ceiling was painted in the mid-19th century by a woman called Mildred Holland who was the Rector’s wife.  She worked on the painting of the chancel from September 1859 until April 1860 with no apparent help from anyone other than local tradesmen who put the scaffolding up for her and prepared and primed the surface of the ceiling.  She also had advice from a Mr. E.L. Blackburne F.S.A. who was an authority on medieval decoration.  Three years later she began painting again, this time in the Nave and the scaffolding eventually came down in 1866.  It is said she did most of the painting while lying on her back.  She ordered the angels and other figures from a specialist tradesman and had them fitted for her but painted them herself.  Her husband had received an inheritance just before they arrived at the parish and this money was spent on repairs, new windows and furnishings as well as all the equipment needed for his wife’s painting work.

Pew end

Pew end

We visited shortly after Remembrance Sunday

Pew end (and a glimpse of Elinor!)

Pew end

Pew end

Pew end

Pew end

The font with its ornate cover

Top of the font cover

Font cover

William Holland presented the church with this font cover in memory of his wife who died in 1878, twelve years after she had finished her painting.

A scrap of the original decoration on the wall

Fragments of a Saxon stone coffin and standing cross from the 10th century

Church door

The table tomb of William and Mildred Holland to the right and a standing cross in their memory to the left

The church has never been long without patrons who help to find funds for restoration work.  I was surprised to see that the guide book to the church is illustrated by the artist David Gentleman.

Here is a link to more information about the church.

You could also read a novel based on the story of Mildred and William’s work in Huntingfield church.  It is called “The Huntingfield Paintress” and is by Pamela Holmes.  I read it out of interest and found it well written aand well researched.  It was too romantic for my taste but other readers have been very pleased with it.