26 & 27 May

26 May

I awoke to heavy rain and a forecast of 100% chance of rain all day. By about 10:00 the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. After a late breakfast I wrote a bit then headed down to the seaside. Felixstowe Pier was hopping. People lined up for fresh donuts and ice cream, kids racing up and down the pavement, families with their blankets on the not-sand. I should explain. Felixstowe, like many English beaches, is primarily a shingle beach, meaning it is mostly small rocks and pebbles. There are patches of sand, especially on one end of the beach, but generally it's the exception, not the rule. It seems, though, that people here are used to that. And for the visitor, a lot of the little kiosks on the beach sell foam shoes for wearing in the water. It's still May, the sea temperature is around 59 degrees and yet there were bathers. Brrrr! Hardier souls than I, that's for sure.

At the little building across the street from the pier a craft show was going on. There were about 15 tables set up with "crafters" selling anything you could imagine. One man had a table of jewelry he made from dichroic glass. We got talking about it and he said that his supply comes from NASA. Apparently NASA uses dichroic glass to shield spacecraft instruments from cosmic radiation and protect human vision from unfiltered sunlight in space. Evidence of the use of dichroic glass was first found in a 4th century Roman cup called the Lycurgus Cup. And, oh, by the way, it makes lovely jewelry. He was a lovely gentleman and very interesting. I felt rather guilty not buying anything from him. Another table featured little felted animals. I chatted with the woman who made them and we had a laugh, but I'm going to be traveling for another month and I feared a felted rabbit would get squashed in my luggage.

I walked all the way down Beach Street toward where the working piers are. Felixstowe is the UK's largest container port, dealing with 48% of Britain's containerized trade.

It's around the bend from the beach and pretty much out of sight, so you wouldn't know it was there if you didn't know it was there. Just as you round the bend, you come to a huge holiday park. (A holiday park is basically a plot of land that accommodates caravans - trailers, in US terms.) There must have been three hundred of them, all lined up neatly in rows, row after row.

Holiday parks are big business here in the UK because they present a very affordable vacation opportunity. One business with parks in coastal areas all over the UK rents them for as little as £99 per day. They usually have 2 or 3 bedrooms, so a family that can't afford to go to a posh resort or on an overseas holiday can afford to get away for a bit in the summer.

I headed back toward the pier and just took in the scenes of families enjoying a long-awaited sunny weekend day at the beach.

And everywhere you looked, people had their dogs. As I looked around it occurred to me that they were almost all purebred. Beagles here, yorkies there, dachshunds, labs, poodles, even a huge greyhound. Whatever happened to the mutt? Is that an American phenomenon? As an old comic friend of mine used to say, "I just want a regulation dog: brown, with four legs, one on each corner." He wouldn't find it here.

I met Bruce at a little fish and chips joint on the beach 'cause it's a nice day and we're in England. It's what you do, Walking home, we passed my favorite shop on the high street. It's a combination knitting/fabric store and coffee shop, and the name sounds perfect when pronounced with a Massachusetts accent.

27 May

The forecast said 40% chance of rain, but it was sunny so I thought I should take advantage of it. I had originally planned to go to the Bawdsey Radar Museum but decided instead to get the train to Melton and visit Sutton Hoo, a National Trust property. I caught the train from Felixstowe to Ipswich and was to switch to a different train, but since work is being done on the tracks, a bus was substituted. I boarded the bus and was privy to a phone conversation of a gentleman sharing far too many personal medical and family issues with whoever was on the line. I felt as though I wanted to tap him on the shoulder and say, "While the details of your upcoming prostate exam are fascinating, it might be a subject best saved for an in-person conversation." Of course, I didn't, and so was treated to the all the details and heard lots about his granddaughter "at uni (university) who walks with a stick, poor dear." At last the bus left and we drove through Woodbridge to Melton, not particularly scenic areas. I alighted from the bus at Melton train station and started the long walk across the bridge of the River Deben then up the hill to Sutton Hoo. At last I arrived and showed the woman at reception my Royal Oak card which had her quite perplexed. I explained that it's s the American organization that supports the National Trust. She had never heard of it but, scrolling a bit on her check-in device, found it and was quite excited that she'd learned something new. I mentioned that it was quite a walk from the train station and, hearing that, she ushered me into the visitor center and presented me with a coupon for a free hot drink. It's a new initiative to encourage people to use mass transit in support of the environment.

I guess a bit of explanation about Sutton Hoo is in order. It was once just the sight of a lovely anonymous residence on grounds that contained a number of burial mounds until 1938 when its owner, Edith Pretty, hired an amateur archeologist, Basil Brown, to dig some of the mounds. Rather than try to tell the story of the dig, I'll quote the National Trust.

"In June 1939, archaeologists painstakingly brushed away layers of sandy soil to reveal the shape of a ship beneath a mound. In the centre of the ship, they found a burial chamber full of the most extraordinary treasures. It turned out to be an

Anglo-Saxon royal burial of incomparable richness, and would revolutionise the understanding of early England."

It is a fascinating story, and you can read about it here. (A film of the story called "The Dig" was made in 2021, starring Ralph Fiennes and Carey Mulligan.)

Once into the property, I came upon a full-sized model of the ship that was unearthed.

The ship was the burial place of King Raedwald, who was a powerful king who had ruled the Anglo-Saxon people for 20 years. When he died he was buried with all of his possessions. This was done so that he could show the gods what a great man he had been here on earth and pay tribute to them.

Just off the path to the house was a gathering of locals who were meant to be talking about the lives of the Anglo-Saxons. At the first little tent there were what looked like primitive tools, but the young man at the display was more interested in talking about motorcycles to the teenager standing there. I waited a few minutes for their conversation to end, but finally gave up and moved to what looked like a stand of weapons. The teenage girl there spoke in a dialect that I found completely incomprehensible. She was very full of herself and oh-so-annoying and when an adult volunteer came to the stand, she told him to get out, then told those of us standing there that she was the boss and everyone was afraid of her. She said something that sounded like, "Vis is for fraying" but which I think was meant to be "This is for throwing." The adult finally pushed in and explained that the handle of the hatchet was curved, which helped make it aerodynamically sound and enabled it to reach its target when thrown. She chased him off again & I moved to a table full of examples of chain maille. As soon as I got there, the men at that table walked away and started talking among themselves. I started to wonder if I were invisible.

Off I went to the house.

The rooms were barely furnished and I learned that no photographs remain of Edith Pretty's time there and only one piece of her furniture remains in the house. There were some objects on display but mostly the house had lots of projectors showing slides of photographs from the original 1939 dig. I didn't spend a lot of time in the house because it was full to bursting with children. (I learned that this was the start of the half-term break.) I walked up the hill to the viewing tower that looks out over the mounds.

From here you could see the mounds and there were information plaques that told a bit of their history.

(FYI those aren't new digs in the distance; it's a chicken farm.)

On the way back toward the house I passed the main mound.

At this point you may be thinking what I was thinking; it's a great story, but there is exceedingly little to see. It's a place that really challenges you to use your imagination. I passed another plaque on the way back to the visitor center which added some perspective. King Raedwald's ship had been docked in the Deben River and upon his death had to be brought from the river, up the hill through the meadows and forest to Sutton Hoo. I had walked the 1.5 miles on a paved road. The Anglo Saxon warriors dragged an enormous ship out of the river and up the hill to the burial site. Amazing.

Back at the visitor's center I went into the High Hall which holds a series of displays, some photographic, some recreations of the goods found in the grave. There was even a rack of clothing so that kids could dress up as Anglo-Saxon warriors.

Among the recreated objects were:

Beer buckets:

A drinking horn:

Raedwald's shield (lime wood board covered with leather, decorated in gold):

Raedwald's shoulder clasp:

Raedwald's helmut - front:

Back:

One of the other mounds held the grave of a young man of high social standing. His horse, a symbol or power and status, was sacrificed and buried with him. Weapons and a beautiful harness, possibly a gift from the king, were placed in his grave alongside lamb chops, possibly to sustain him on his journey to the next life. The original artifacts are on display.

The horse harness:

His sword (note drawing of the placement in the grave):

I made a quick trip to the tea room for my hot beverage and a piece of Victoria Sponge (a wonderful cake that's very popular in the UK and completely unknown in the US.) All around me were people enjoying their treats with their dogs at their sides, though I noted on the way out that apparently there are also cat people in the UK. ;-)

On the way back down the hill toward the rail station I saw a little sign that said "public footpath" so since I had time to kill before the bus came, I followed it. It lead to a walkway by the river.

It turned off into a lovely stand of trees.

I arrived back at Melton station where I caught the replacement bus driven by a man who has aspirations of racing Formula 1 cars. We took a "side road" only about a foot wider than the bus, bordered on either side by bushes and trees, flying through the country side. Twelve minutes later, we ended up right back at Melton train station so clearly this had just been a bit of fun for the driver. It didn't do an awful lot for the child sitting opposite me who proceeded to vomit then fall asleep in his father's arms. I made it back to Norwich in one piece, then home to Felixstowe.