The year is 2002 and we are staying at a B&B in Great Yarmouth, using it as a base for touring around various places in Norfolk and Suffolk.
Clicking or tapping the photos below will take you to the relevant article. A link on each page will bring you back here.
Friday 23 August 2002. It was our last night in Great Yarmouth. Tomorrow would see us leave after breakfast and a morning coffee in our favourite beach hut cafe.
There was still a long row of amusement arcades along the seafront road, but sadly gone were the days when you caould find half a dozen or more pinball machines in every arcade. I think we only found two such machine the whole week and predictably one of them wasn't working all that well.
Instead the arcades were full of video games which simply required a good memory for the sequence of challenges rather than the skills to aim balls at various targets through an understanding of the laws of physics. Crane machines full of overweight stuffed toys and pushers with far too much weight of coins to be pushed forwards made up most of the other machines. Miss Franny armed herself with coins and spent the night trying to increase her haul of Winnie the Pooh keyrings. She came home with five...
Our childhood was spent playing the pinballs of the 1950s and 60s, the earlier ones with wooden rails before steel began to be used. They had weak 2-inch flippers that often didn't have the power to send the ball further than halfway up the playfield. The earliest had no flippers at all and targets were just a nail with a surrounding coiled spring that completed the circuit with the nail when pressed against it. The early machines also had gobble holes which scored - but you lost your ball down them for good.
The 1960s were a heyday for pinball players. Rows and rows of them would fill an entire wall of amusement arcades. Spinning score reels replaced the system where bulbs would light in different places on the scorefield to show your score - rows of ten bulbs for millions, 100 thousands, 10 thousands... You had to add them up to get your score. The space created on the back boxes (backflashes) of pinballs by score reels allowed animated features to be added - a lift door opening to reveal the passengers, or a small bagatelle firing tiny balls to signify the launch of a space rocket...
It would be another decade before pinballs became computer controlled, two decades before Gorgar became the first pinball to talk. Elvira - Scared Stiff was the pinball to go to this week and was a good game.
Friday 23 August 2002. This is the last day of our holiday before heading for home in the morning. As such Miss Franny needs to take a last look at the shops and market, just in case there's a shop or market stall that we have missed during the week. I dutifully tagged along uncomplainingly, casting a wistful glance in the window of the guitar shop as we whizzed past on the way to marvel at a slightly different shade or design of shoe...
We got away by lunchtime and by 1:30 in the afternoon parked the car a stone's throw from the water's edge at Wroxham.
Wroxham Broad is my favourite place to "mess about in a boat". Together with nearby Hoveton this is acknowledged as the capital of the Norfolk Broads. Wroxham itself is a small attractive village, famous for almost every shop being called Roy's - he came, he saw, he traded...
Hundreds of small boats can be hired for the day or half-day here and for the less adventurous, there are large cruisers and a showboat that you can take a ride on for an hour or so out through the channels to Wroxham Broad itself that runs parallel to the River Bure.
I wasn't really holding out much hope of being able to find a boat available at the time we got there, but we approached the empty landing stage of one boat hire place, asked when we would be able to take one out and the owner turned me, pointing at a boat just coming back to the landing stage. Result!
There's a lovely picturesque road bridge over the waterway here that would-be sailors love to go under, confident that they can cruise for half a day and then come back the same way to go under it again. However the River Bure does connect with the sea not too far away and the sea has this habit of following tidal protocols so that larger boats often return to find the "bridge is lower than it was...!" [CRUNCH!]
In such a small boat we were unlikely to have this problem with rising tides but never-the-less I prudently enquired before we left and was assured that we would be ok if we kept to the centre of the channel - which might entail waiting for any boats coming the other way to pass first.
Here, one of the larger passenger-carrying cruisers comes past, waving people lining the sides. One little boy wasn't waving. "Our Jimmy's always had a weak stomach..." his mum said. "Oh, he's not doing so bad though..." commented his dad as an aggrieved "Oy!" came from the kayak below...
Wroxham Broad itself has the aspect of a large lake covering 85 acres to a depth of a mere 4ft, 4 inches (1.3 metres). As described earlier when we were at Oulton Broad, the lake is actually a flooded basin created by medieval peat digging. It is seperated from the River Bure by a narrow island which allows boating access to either end of the Broad. This was being eroded and eventually it had to be built up ten years later which had the effect of increasing the birdlife population by quite a significant amount, including the return of kingfishers to the area. It also led to the discovery of a World War II hand grenade dredged up during the work which had to be detonated by the Bomb Disposal Squad...
"Is it hard to drive?" Miss Franny wanted to know so I insisted she sit in the driving seat for a spell. She was fine until I moved to back of the boat to take this photo.
"We are coming to a corner! What do I do?" Boats do not respond immediately to the turn of the wheel. It takes a second or so before the play of the water on the rudder begins to turn the boat. To people used to driving cars, this can cause them to panic slightly and wrench the wheel further round so that when the boat does start to answer the rudder, there's a dramatic swing that can put you into the path of something large and substantial. So I took over.
It was time to start our return back to the boatyard anyway. We got to the bridge, I took the centre path and with a sense of a job well done as befits the former Registrar of a nautical college, I smacked the boat hard against the jetty and hurriedly remembered to return the throttle to neutral...
Thursday 22 August 2002. We visit Sandringham, the royal house in the year of the Queen's Golden Jubilee.
After the last few days the sun has decided to make a welcome appearance and as there may be a spot of walking through the grounds we thought it might be the ideal day to do it.
We start with a tour round the house though. The estate of almost 8000 acres and a house were bought in 1862 for the Prince of Wales, Albert Edward, later to be King Edward VII. This was to be a country home for the soon to be married prince and his bride, Princess Alexandra of Denmark. The house was rebuilt almost in entirety from 1870 - 1900 and has both a West Front and East Front, but no back.
Many of the rooms that are open to the Public are regularly used by the Royal Family who have all, since Edward VII thought of Sandringham as one of their favourite places to be. It was the scene of the first ever Royal Christmas radio broadcast by King George V in 1932 and the first televised Christmas broadcast by Queen Elizabeth II in 1957.
The first ever Royal car. The 1900 Daimler Phaeton was bought by King Edward VII. As you might expect there are some beautiful collections in the house and garages.
Works of art that you recognise, having seen them in print or on TV give you a lift, but the sheer number of tiger skins just makes you wonder at an age that thought animal populations could withstand such wholescale slaughter, or that it was acceptable to just go out with the intention of killing such beautiful animals for a moment's perverse pleasure.
But despite the views of today's younger generations, you should not judge today's older generations by the actions of their ancestors. And whilst we can shake our heads at and regret the actions of our ancestors (virtually everyone regardless of race or religion has some reason to do this), no one should be expected to apologise because their great-great-grandad, however many greats, was an arrogant twonk with better than average sword skills or a bigger army to fight for him or a belief that their deity-in-the-sky was better than anyone else's.
The State Coach in the Carriage House. The delicate hangings are protected by plastic sheeting. In this case it's ok - it's not just single use...
Some of the early shooting brakes - the ancestors of today's estate cars or SUVs - are marvellous concoctions of wood and leather. Just the thing when you are out reducing the bird or small mammal population...
We visited the cafeteria for a spot of lunch. I had a Pepsi in the cardboard cup with the Royal Crest and in the plastic carton is the remains of Miss Franny's sandwich with the Royal Crust...
Lunch partaken of, we headed out into the grounds, worriedly squinting at an unusual glowing ball in the sky... Sixty acres of gardens were transformed from the formal planting of Edwardian days into huge glades and sweeping lawns with specimen trees. Parterres - water gardens - were dug up and lakes created with more natural lines and surroundings.
The horse chestnuts - not yet roasting by an open fire - were heavily laden, promising plentiful conkers for the royal children.
The lake gives a wonderful view of the West Front of the house. We admired the lily pads, the clarity of water, the large fish chasing the ducks about in case they dropped something tasty into the water...
The Nest is a summer house, built in 1913 for Queen Alexandra who used to enjoy sitting by the lake,
Several properties sit within the grounds. This Gatehouse was one that we came upon during our walk.
Wednesday 21 August 2002. After looking around the older parts of Great Yarmouth the sky was still a little threatening and we decided to visit Caister Castle which had a motor museum where we could spend the rest of the afternoon indoors, looking at the collection of cars.
There is little left of the castle itself. It was built in (well... "from") 1432 by Sir John Fastolfe. Born in 1378 he was ambitious, brave, educated and religious. He was a patron of the arts and universities, a statesman and a soldier with 40 years service.
It seems a shame that Shakespeare was to defame him so badly with his character of Falstaff. Fighting against Joan of Arc with extended supply lines he chose correctly to withdraw. Shakespeare depicted this as cowardice. However in real life he was awarded Governorship of Normandy for the following four years.
The tower from across the moat (previous photograph) presents almost a chocolate box image. From inside the castle (seen in this photograph) there is access to a spiral staircase that takes you up to the top of the tower where you can strike weird and wonderful poses for the cameras of your fellow tourists below. There are quite a few examples of graffiti from centuries gone by etched into the walls by daggers or coin edges.
A few vehicles are dotted about the grounds. We first came across this old London horse-drawn tram as a barely recogniseable "shed" of bare rotting wood in 1981. Ten years later it looked almost brand new. Now it was once again looking as though it needed some TLC, at least a coat of paint.
A railway platform tractor - they were used to pull trains of flat wagons for luggage. The majority of the vehicles and just about all of the cars are under cover. They are preserved rather than concours. Cleaners use dusters but not water or polish. However, the place is well worth a visit and I would not want to hazard a guess at the total value of cars on display.
Wednesday 21 August 2002. The day was a little bleak weatherwise and we decided not to go wandering in the car but to stay in Great Yarmouth, with somewhere to dash towards in case of rain.
On the positive side Great Yarmouth has a fairly rich history and was one of England's walled towns. King Henry III gave the town burgesses the right to build an enclosing wall and a moat in 1260, although he had given way to King Edward I by the time building commenced in 1284.
The walls were constructed of rubble with a facing of grey and red brick and knapped flint to provide some decoration. The walls enclosed 133 acres and were 2,200 yards (2012 metres) in length, 23 feet (7 metres) in height.
16 towers or turrets were built along the wall of which a few still exist. The South Tower, pictured here, has a chequered decoration to the upper storeys and at one time in its more recent past housed a pottery.
There is a 1 mile (1.6 kilometres) walk around part of the wall that also takes in the market and a few famous houses. One was that of Miles Corbett the last signatory on the Death Warrant of King Charles I. Another we shall see in a short while.
Blackfriars Tower is named for a nearby colony of monks at the time of building in 1340.
The port of Yarmouth is on the River Yare. Although leaflets describe it as the 'historic South Quay' (which it undoubtedly is) there is little to see on the quay itself. Few trawlers or herring boats can be found these days though you may see a few support ships for the offshore gas and oil rigs in the North Sea.
I loved this though. The odd building stands out, suggesting a bustling community, where hard work and sweat were the order of the day. Ivy's Trusty Tea Shop - it was voted for, you know! Whilst the area it was situated in was very quiet to the point of being almost eerie, a light inside showed that there was still a welcome and a good cup of tea to be had.
There was one historic ship - the Audrey tied up along the wharf. The Audrey was being repainted and was a yacht rigged sailing fishing boat. There was no one aboard. Perhaps they had nipped of to Ivy's for a good cup of tea.
Between the long stretch of wharves on the Yare and the town centre and market were once over a hundred narrow streets known as the Rows. They were incredibly narrow, so much so that a law was passed that house doors had to open inwards to avoid passers-by being knocked off their feet! At points it was possible to touch the walls of houses on either side.
They were first mentioned in 1198 and were further developed during the next 200 years until there were 145 rows. Unfortunately the houses and buildings of the rows were extensively bombed during World War II and now few remain.
The house in Row 111. Many rows were paved with pebbles from the beach - not easy on the feet. After the destruction of World War II, most rows were demolished as slum clearance and more modern housing estates replaced them.
The Seamens' hospital and cottages reserved for ex-seamen over the age of 60. It was built by the Corporation in 1702 as almshouses for 20 "decayed fishermen" and their wives. The cottages were one up - one down i.e. a single room with a huge fireplace and a bedroom on the first floor reached by either a spiral staircase or ladder. Privies were provided in the yard.
The black and white timber framed building was the home of Anna Sewell who wrote the childrens' book "Black Beauty", but who sadly died before it became a best seller.
Asl anyone over the age of 60 what shop they would love to see return to High Streets and they would likely say Woolworths. But there were other shops that graced most towns' high streets. This was Great Yarmouth's Co-op building. The Co-op was a movement that started in Rochdale, Lancashire and grew into a huge concern, aimed at sharing its profits with members (shoppers) by a stamp system similar to Green Shield stamps.
Co-op stamps were blue and were stuck into books which once full could be exchanged for a certain value. The Co-op department stores were all built to a similar design and this was a typical one with the upper storey's windows separated by columns.