The gap between the buildings has never been seen before. It seemed so much of another age, and something grim and dark was suggested in this narrow space. It was not just the lack of light, but the claustrophobia of the space, just wide enough to enter, but it would be crushing to the body and the soul. It was only through later research that it was discovered that this was once the site of the George Inn, and it was there that so many of the enclosures in the area of the Brecklands were decided in the nineteenth century.
There are some fine medieval churches in the Brecklands and two were visited today, St George at Saham Toney and All Saints at Threxton. It’s a pleasant walk between the two and the bells of St George can be heard all the way. The traveling library does not include the relevant Pevsner so the detail of the churches will have to wait for further research.
That is a lovely south facing porch, but I do not like the finger wagging discipline of that clock. The earlier rhythms of life replaced by the industrialisation of life (see EP Thompson).
I leave the train at Sandling station. It seems curiously quiet and still. I have passed this station hundreds of times and never noticed it. Now I have the opportunity to admire it’s Tudor-Beathan architecture and the rather pleasant surroundings.
Martin Mill is a village with a population of perhaps a couple of hundred people. Due to the peculiar organisation of the railway network in England, it has a station which connects it to the high speed line to London (but not the other way to Ramsgate – the train goes at about 20mph as it travels eastwards).
One can catch the train there, but another way is to walk across the tops of the White Cliffs, through St Margaret’s at Cliffe and then across fields and muddy lanes. The latter is of course the preferred way and the starting point is the sea front at Dover.
The weather forecast was clearly for sun. There was a big yellow sun gif to make sure the message was clear. S – u – n. By the time I had come down the Western Heights and was making my way to Shakespeare Beach, it was difficult to know where the sky mist ended and the sea mist began, and that wasn’t helped by the fine drizzle.