30 September 2016 - Onehouse Lakeview Camp, Stowmarket, Suffolk

The days have flipped over on the calendar and further arrangements have been made as regards our return home. Storage for the caravan is now sorted although we will not take it up near the Norfolk County border until next Wednesday. Chris’s brother John will take guardianship of the car, but then it is legally his, even if it was us who paid for it and have put the seven and a half thousand miles on the clock since purchase. But some matters will be left in the air; any repair of the car that arises from the computer diagnosis to be done on Monday, and the battle with Vodafone over the cancellation of our data contract are still to be resolved. We may well find ourselves working with the UK Telecommunications Ombudsman on that one! Fortunately we have had experience with such matters although the last such battle was with the Insurance Ombudsman in Australia during the years of our travel there. Beware those who cross us – we can be like terriers with a bone!

Felixstowe beach

Today we took time out from all these tiresome matters to explore a little more of Suffolk, this time the port settlement of Felixstowe. This has been on our to-do list for months, and looked like being left until our return next year. However our busy social and business calendar had space, so we set off with lunch packed in the eski and little touring preparation. Unfortunately the Rough Guide has nothing to say of this seaside gem, and we could only rely on the modest entry in our Suffolk Village book, this about Old Felixstowe.

Felixstowe, with a population of about 24,000 and its surrounding parish sits between the River Orwell to the south and the River Deben to the north. The Port, the largest container port in the United Kingdom, sits on the northern bank of the River Orwell, directly across from Harwich which we visited some months ago.

Willow people enjoying the gardens

We travelled down the A14 which takes traffic straight down to the port, a route we have now travelled from one end to the other. Parking on the sea front was easy and free, facts that endeared us to the place immediately. We wandered along the foreshore, delighting in the regular swish of the waves lapping against the shore. There were people about, but not too many, and while there was amusement park machinery lying idle nearby, only the sea and gulls could be heard. The beach stretches for two miles, broken up with groynes of huge rocks, large enough to hold the sea back from claiming the land, as it has further north on this coastline. 

The town was brought to fame when the German Empress and her children arrived in 1891 to take the waters, those that seep out of the cliffs above the beach. The town grew and more spectacularly, the promenade and granite sea wall were developed, completed in 1904, and with it, the gardens above the promenade. Over time these came to include all sorts of exotic plants, like toitoi, hebe, cabbage trees and flax, all natives to New Zealand pulling the heart strings of nostalgia for me today.

The Felix Hotel

The Edwardian buildings along the shore line are quite lovely; we were particular impressed with the 1903 building once the Felix Hotel, nowadays retirement apartments. High above the sea, we wandered into the commercial shopping area and were duly impressed with the diversity of the retail outlets. It seems that one is better served here in Felixstowe than in Stowmarket, our current local. Chris bought a platter of hot chips and another book to add to our caravan library, and I considered what I might have bought if I were not already considering luggage space and weight.

Short sharp rain showers had been forecasted through the middle of the day and at one point, rain seemed imminent, so we returned to the car, and headed south to the port area where we knew there to be a fort and a lookout point.

The port was founded in 1875 after the great railway developments and the dock has been operating since 1886, now handling 40% of all Britain’s containerised trade. It is also, of particular navigational relevance, the only deep water port between Hull and London.

The lookout turned out to be a space beside the river from where one can see the ships coming and going, and there is no parking fee payable. The headland is a natural reserve, managed by rabbits and other critters, and in the middle of this rather wild area is the fort. I had thought this might be a heap of rocks, a ruin, and Chris thought it to be another Martello tower, such as those that populate this coast.

We were both wrong. Landguard Fort is the site of the last opposed seaborne invasion of England in 1667 and the first land battle of the Royal Marines. The current fort was built in the 18^th century, and modified in the 19^th century with substantial additional 19^th – 20^th century outside batteries. It is managed by the Landguard Fort Trust and comes under the umbrella of English Heritage.

The inner keep of Landguard Fort

The original defences were first built here in 1626 under the reign of Henry VIII. In 1667 five hundred men lead by Captain Nathaniel Darell defeated a much larger Dutch invasion force. Under military control until 1971, the fort is now a scheduled ancient monument and listed building. Remaining today are parts of the fort of 1744 and rebuild of 1875 under Queen Victoria, with additions up to 1950. Extensive renovations were completed in 1998.

We took advantage of the audio guides, and followed the route around the extensive fort, in and out of rooms and tunnels, up and down steps to levels that looked out over the surrounding land and water, and were duly impressed. There is a lot of signage giving long winded explanations of various military installations and history, all a bit much for us who have interest in the overall history, but not the intricacies of the military machinery.

View across the river at Felixstowe Ferry

The afternoon had slipped away within the walls of the fortress, but we were still keen to explore more of the area. We headed north up to Felixstowe Ferry, the tiny settlement on the southern bank of the River Deben, passing through the middle of the golf course nearby, which could well have been hazardous had the many golfers out and about been only as talented as I at the game.

We walked along the raised river bank, up to one of the Martello towers which has been converted to a residential structure, no doubt in Grand Design style. These towers remind me of the Moorish towers that stand sentinel along the southern coast of Spain; I remember them from my months living in Andalusia in the mid-1980s.

Modified Martello tower

Wikipedia defines “Martello Towers” as small defensive forts built across the British Empire during the 19^th century, from the time of the French Revolutionary Wars onwards, most being coastal forts. They stand up to twelve metres high, with two floors and typically garrisoned one officer and between fifteen and twenty five men. Their round structure and thick walls of solid masonry made them resistant to cannon fire, while their height made them an ideal platform for a heavy artillery piece, able to be revolved. (Thank you, Wikipedia.)

Here at Felixstowe Ferry, one can cross the river on a small on-call craft for the sum of £2 one way, or £3 return. All you have to do is pick up the white bat hanging on the pier and wave it vigorously. Is the boatman watching out for this every minute of every day? 

By the time we tore ourselves away from this charming spot, the afternoon was closing in and we feared the traffic load on our return. Instead of calling into the Country Park at the base of the Orwell Bridge as I had wanted, we joined the late Friday afternoon traffic and headed home.

We have social engagements lined up, more dinners and lunches out at pubs with family, and afternoon teas to be had, but first of all, I am keen to see Chris shed a cold or man-flu that he fears he has. This we do not need!  

25 September 2016 - Onehouse Lakeview Camp, Stowmarket, Suffolk

The beautiful weather has continued despite the negative forecasts. The last two days have followed our plan of preparation and organisation, yesterday morning spent supping cups of coffee with Chris’s brother who offers much practical advice and mentoring, then a few hours at Ickworth, the fourth or fifth visit to this wonderful National Trust property. Like our previous two visits, this was all about the opportunity to exercise the limbs and breathe in the fresh air. The walk we chose to take was the 6.4 kilometres Rotunda Walk with the add-on through Lady Hervey’s wood which must have been at least an additional kilometre. It was so lovely to be out stretching the legs; a few days of no walking seizes the joints up when you get past a certain age. 

The park was very busy, the car parks already full and overflowing when we arrived and two hours later spilling beyond the overflow car parks. We were happy to escape the crowds concentrating on the heritage buildings and formal gardens, although our passage through the walled garden, still full of wild flowers ,as less so, and beyond, we came upon very few fellow walkers.

Blackberry eater

Instead we enjoyed the unkempt apple trees, the last of the blackberries, the bright red berries of the hawthorns and the holly, the first of acorns and browning leaves littering the ground. We came upon a wee mouse which might have been a wood mouse although neither of us are experts on rodent identification. Amazingly I did not scream and run as is my normal response to mice sightings but was instead quite entranced by the little creature as it concentrated on its feast of fallen blackberries.

The map had suggested the route would take us across more open grazing land than wooded area so we were duly delighted. Ickworth has over 600 acres of woodland, approximately one third of the entire estate. This represents the largest area of National Trust woodland in the east of England, making up 1% of the entire Trust’s woodland space.

Trees already nude of their leaves

This morning we set off late after tuning into the regular Sunday political commentary, particularly interesting today after the results of yesterday’s election result: Jeremy Corbett has been unsurprisingly re-elected to the leadership of the UK’s Labour party.

Our expedition today revolved around research of possible storage for our caravan. Given that ideas already on the table include the possibilities of mice with an appetite for upholstery and electric wiring, we thought more options should be considered. We drove into Bury St Edmunds and checked the exterior of an undercover facility then headed up toward Thetford Forest to check three farm based outdoor storage yards. Further north again we called into the Camping & Caravan Club site which has an off-site storage yard, and then further on again, we tracked down yet another farm up a long very narrow lane accessed by crossing a ford, dry today but suggesting more serious winter time flooding. Enquiries were made where we could and appropriate notes taken, and then we took stock of how far north we had come, now north of the Suffolk County border. 

We headed south out of Norfolk calling into Knettishall Heath, that four hundred acre reserve visited soon after we arrived earlier in the year. Today we set off on foot along a perimeter pathway, across stunted heather covered ground, through mixed wood, pausing by the Little Ouse to watch half a dozen dogs frolicking in a swimming hole, then proceeded upriver a little way before returning to the car. It was not a very long walk, but enough to stretch our legs. We returned with notes scribbled all over our lists of possible storage locations and an extra one hundred miles on the clock. 

Decisions and arrangement have been made in many travel matters, our rail tickets to London purchased but the important of storage is still to be settled.

23 September 2016 Onehouse Lakeview Camp, Stowmarket, Suffolk

Another beautiful October autumn day in Suffolk! We spent the early part of the morning chasing emails; sometimes I think that the so called speedy online dealing with business matters is a prize joke. Finding one’s way through online forms and waiting for confirmation is a minefield.

It was a relief to find distractions by way of collecting Chris’s sister from her place in Stowmarket and heading up to the crematorium, that we stalled near three days ago. Chris was highly organised with water, bleach and the dish brush from my little kitchen, ready to attack the mould on their parents’ tombstones. Here in this corner of Suffolk, this crematorium operates like a factory line, one funeral lining up after another, and we had to find our way back through a crowd of mourners to the car.

Lunch out was a good idea after such a task, and even better because we stopped by the Rose & Crown, the public house that Mr & Mrs Clarke ran through the early and mid- 1950s. We sat over the day’s special of “fish, chips and peas” (with the amazing option of baked beans!) and mildly alcoholic drinks, the siblings reminiscing and debating the whereabouts of the dartboard, the juke box and the snacks offered back in the day when pubs were less of a restaurant than they are today. Although I have to say, after my limited experience of English pubs, this particular pub on the corner of a busy part of the town seems to epitomise the classic English pubs of old.

"Children" of the Rose & Crown

We asked Margie to direct us back to Stowmarket via charming villages taking the scenic route, and so we set off in the first instance toward Moreton Estate and there as we slalomed through the roundabouts, we heard the most ghastly knocking. A flat tyre? Chris pulled over and we got out, did the circuit to check the tyres and peered in a most secular and amateur manner beneath the car, and found nothing untoward. On a little more and it seemed even worse, so we turned into the Industrial Estate where we knew there to be a Kia dealer. 

The workshop manager was at lunch but we could wait, and so we opened the windows and sat doing exactly that. Seasoned driver Margie suggested that we give the wheels a wiggle with our hands, which we duly did. While Chris was checking the front passenger wheel, he happened to notice a wheel nut loose, and another, and another. All but one were about to drop off, as would the wheel had we travelled too much further. Out came the brace and the loose nuts were duly tightened, the garage staff advised the problem seemed to be remedied, and we set off yet again, stopping a couple of times more to check the wheel nuts had remained tight. It seemed we had diced again with death; first the rusty and rotten rear axle and now a loose wheel! (Thinking later about this, we decided that the mechanic who had checked our brakes at York must have removed the wheels as part of his inspection and failed to secure the wheel again.)

We returned to Stowmarket via Thurston, Beyton, Tostock, Elmswell, Wetherden, Haughley and home, past newly ploughed and harrowed fields, rowan trees laden with red berries and the occasional equally laden apple tree. After finishing our delightfully social day with cups of coffee and more family gossip, we retrieved one of our suitcases from Margie’s spare room for minor repairs. 

Back at camp we found a dozen or so caravans had arrived for a little weekend rally, and the suitcase which we knew to be mildly bruised from its journey in April, to be in a far worse state than expected. The interior wall had disintegrated, first with age, then the rough treatment it had received en route. In fact there was a strange loose mass inside the lining which required immediate identification. Thank goodness it was just a thousand pieces of broken plastic rather than planted illegal substances. It would seem that we will need to buy a new suitcase for our return, and the worst of that is the fact the suitcase belongs to my parents; we do not carry suitcases in our motorhome home in New Zealand.

22 September 2016 - Onehouse Lakeview Camp, Stowmarket, Suffolk

Today is the equinox which means that the nights start to become longer than the days, however for many weeks now the days have been noticeably becoming shorter. Today the sun came up at 6.45am and set 6.50pm; it is definitely time that we headed for the southern hemisphere.

Today, despite the shortening hours of daylight, the weather was mostly clear and sunny, so much so it seemed a shame to spend more than the morning cleaning and attending to administration matters. Chris suggested we head off to Framlingham for the rest of the day, and what a brilliant idea that turned out to be.

Framlingham is a small village, or town, of about 3,000 inhabitants these days, lying twenty miles or so east north east of Stowmarket. We took the A1120 through Suffolk villages of charming thatched cottages until we turned onto the B1115 into our destination. 

Framlingham Castle is reportedly located on a bluff, however I would have said a “low rise”, because the rise and fall of the land around here is very gentle. The castle walls are still intact and one sign suggested that with a decent garrison, it could withstand a siege even today, but I suspect that boast does not take into account that wars today involve drones and hydrogen bombs.

The castle’s defence was based on a deep ditch and huge stone towers built into a curtain wall, built at the end of the 12^th century. The stone walls are 2.5 metres thick and 13 metres high and were protected by thirteen strong towers. Once the surrounding farmland was part of a 600 acre park able to accommodate up to 1,600 head of deer and then the lake, or mere, was much more expansive than it is today.

The coast is only twelve miles away, as the crow flies, and with the Continent less than two days sail away, the network and excellent ports meant that East Anglia became rich through trade very early on.

Between the 12^th and 16^th centuries the castle was repeatedly confiscated by the king and then returned when he needed the noble’s support. During the 15^th and 16^th centuries the Howard dukes of Norfolk needed a castle to suit their ambition and turned the castle into more luxurious accommodation, including the addition of elaborate chimneys, most of which were for show only. One of the last people to stay in the castle during that era, was Mary Tudor, daughter of King Henry VIII, She came to Framlingham to gather her support before she was crowned Queen of England in 1553.

By the 17^th century, the main home of the Howards family had moved to Kenninghall, another of their estates in Norfolk. In 1635, Framlingham Castle was sold to a local politician and lawyer, Sir Robert Hitcham, for £14,000, who died just one year later, instructing his estate be divided amongst the poor. Most of the buildings were pulled down and the first poorhouse building opened in the mid-17^th century, but it was too small. The main poorhouse wing was added in 1729 using part of the earlier medieval hall.

Hitcham was apparently born poor but died rich, hence his bequest. He knew that education and learning a trade could help one to escape poverty. He was a man of vision and a notable philanthropist in his day. His poorhouse housed around forty people, employing women to spin wool and men to work as farm labourers in the better seasons and cobble shoes in the winter. Boys were sent out as apprentices and girls placed in domestic service. Here there was a more community sense than in many other workhouses that sprang up through the country to meet the need of the poor. This need had become more so after the dissolution of the monasteries; one of the more positive roles they had filled. 

After 1839, the poor were moved out to join the Union workhouse at nearby Wickham Market, where conditions were probably a lot harsher.

The castle was given to the Commissioner of Works in 1913 and during the Second World War was used by the British military as part of the regional defences against a potential German invasion. These days it is run as a tourist attraction, protected as a Grade I listed building. It is also a draw card for tour parties, including parties of small school children. Fortunately one such group was leaving as we arrived; excellent timing we thought.  

As has become our habit, we set off along the castle walls armed with audio guides, to enjoy the fabulous views over the surroundings and down into the sheltered suntrap of the bailey itself. Across the mere we could see the rather grand buildings of Framlingham College, originally called the Albert Memorial College in memory of Prince Albert, founded in 1864 by public subscription. It was a boys’ only school until the 1970s, but now is co-ed. It is one of those “public” schools populated by the children of the rich, or of those who manage to secure a scholarship. We did learn that the school has a very communal relationship with the town folk; their considerable facilities are made available to the general populace on a regular basis.

Descending one floor after the circuit, we found ourselves in the small Lanman Museum, the relocated collection of an avid collector of historic bric a brac from the area. Mr Lanman originally opened his collection to the public in the front of his shop in 1957, then it was moved to the Old Court House in Framlingham in 1979, finally moved to its present location in the castle in 1984. While the many items do reflect past life in the village, it is a distraction from the castle’s more grand history.

After we had explored the castle then walked around the perimeter of the grounds, we walked down to the Church of Saint Michael, where the tombs of the Howard family are to be found, some reputedly the finest in Europe. The Church has been built, rebuilt and added to over the centuries, the greater part of the structure erected between 1350 and 1555. 

Inside we found the tombs as advertised, that of Thomas Howard, 3^rd Duke of Norfolk, Sir Robert Hitcham, and most colourful, the alabaster tomb of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, son of the 3^rd Duke.

Back outside we made our way to the local Co-op to buy the daily newspaper before returning to the car and heading toward home, but this time on yet another rural route, back along the B1078.

It would seem that our sightseeing in Suffolk is not finished yet.