My trip to Norfolk ended up being very much a game of two halves and a cheap and cheerful trip ended up being very expensive indeed.
Having dropped The Boys at their father’s, I drove slowly and cross country to Norfolk and arrived at Colveston Manor in Mundford at about 11.30. This is without question the best B&B I have ever stayed in. It is very remote, about 2 miles out of Mundford itself and the bumpy track to the house was constantly criss-crossed by big ginger hares leaping in and out of the fields. The house is stunning and I was warmly greeted by Wendy Allingham who showed me to my gorgeous room and then gave me coffee outside in the sun while we chatted amiably for nearly an hour.
As I mentioned on Friday, I had a list of places I wanted to visit and I consulted the Ordnance Survey maps to make sure that I made the most of my time. As it was lunchtime, I headed for Cockley Cley for a feed at The Twenty Churchwardens Pub. I had a Churchwarden Pie with generous portions of vegetables and croquettes and a perfect pint of Abbot, all for £8.50. I chattered happily with the locals and didn’t feel out of place for a moment, as, even now, people sometimes look askance at a single woman in a pub.
I set Sean, my genial Southern Irish SatNav, to find me the shortest route to Oxborough Hall and we trundled off companionably through country lanes full of poppies, meadow cranesbill, cow parsley and some little yellow spiky things I haven’t yet identified. The fields are much more varied in Norfolk and it was a delight to see and smell fields full of onions, carrots, cabbages, greens, flowers and pigs instead of the ubiquitous wheat, sheep and cows.
I arrived at Oxborough Hall and realised that I had no memory of it whatsoever other than the fact that it was moated. I often like to walk round the outside of a building first, to get the measure of it. The first thing I saw was a beautiful walled flowerbed of wondrous abundance which was in the process of renovation as the National Trust had discovered the plans for a ‘Secret Garden’ which they were bringing back to life. There was also a basket with free packets of seeds to encourage companion planting and, ergo, reduction in the use of pesticides in the garden. Nice one. A brightly coloured knot garden swirled its way across the lawn like a team of country dancers marking out a complicated figure of its own.
The Moat was teeming with life; hundreds of turquoise damselflies darted and hovered above the water, yellow waterlillies grinned up at me from the still surface whilst a variety of fish played hide and seek with the tourists among the lily stalks. And then, as if to drown my senses entirely a pair of freshly laundered swans hove into view with two tumble dried grey cygnets gliding obediently behind.
Once inside the fortified walls, I neatly side-stepped The Gunnery second hand bookshop and headed straight for the house. I won’t detail every room, but it had the sort of dark, carved furniture that cries out to be touched, but one is not allowed (rightly so). The books, the paintings, the wallpapers were all dazzling. I was particularly delighted by a set of tapestries that had been worked by Mary, Queen of Scots and Bess of Hardwick, as I’ve just finished reading a book about Bess that has made her my absolute new heroine.
After a brief visit to the chapel with one of the most elaborate alter-pieces I have ever seen , I set off for Stow Bardolph to witness, first hand, a very creepy thing indeed.
In the 18th century, there was a rich family called Hare, whose descendents still live in the village. The youngest daughter Sarah, put it in her will that, when she died, she wanted a life sized wax effigy of herself placed in the church and she gave specific details as to her costume, posture etc. She also offered sixpence to anyone who turned up for her funeral. Popular girl then. Unfortunately, she pricked her finger whilst sewing, got septicaemia and died in 1744.
In the church mortuary chapel, there is a dark wooden cabinet with an inscription about Sarah Hare. I opened the door, and there, staring at me with loppy eyes, was the waxwork of a seriously unattractive woman – literally warts and all. How big does your ego have to be?
I drove back to Colverston Manor, freshened up, went for a lovely dinner with Rev and Mrs Marple, then home to a deep bath, a mug of Ovaltine and a good night’s sleep, in anticipation of a trip to Castle Acre in the morning and the licensing service in the afternoon.
Attention to detail at Colveston Manor
Wartime Housewife 