Norfolk, history, art, churches, old houses, ghost stories, cats, that sort of thing — for the restoration of the Manor House, Crowland, follow on @CrowlandMH
Norfolk & Lincolnshire
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Are there any fairies left in Norfolk?
For those of you who like that sort of thing, I've written a new short story on this topic. It's called "Ferier's Hill". If you want to read it, there's a link in the thread below.
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Even after all these years, and despite the fact this is my usual morning walk these days, I’m still always childishly thrilled by this first glimpse of the sea
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I quite like the way that this little rose peeks in at the window, as if curious to learn what goes on inside of houses
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Earlier today I washed this rug and put it out on a bench to dry in the sunshine, and I think it's fair to say it's proved a success with the local feline community
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There is something pleasingly strange and extraordinary about seeing a Christmas tree in a darkened hall
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How unacceptable is it to park in the drive of someone else’s house without asking? I ask because someone’s been doing this to me and I find it really odd.
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There's always a moment towards the end of August when the holiday-makers have thinned out a bit, there's a chill in the morning air, and summer seems, however indistinctly and gradually, to be drawing to a close. Today was that moment.
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Chris Whitty’s dad, a diplomat, was murdered by terrorists who sought him out, got into his car and shot him dead, so that filmed attack on CW must have been particularly unnerving for him. I hope he’s given proper protection although heaven knows he shouldn’t have to need it.
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Four years ago this evening, I had an email about a kitten who apparently needed someone to foster him for a couple of days. He turned out to be absolutely tiny, slightly affronted, and totally impossible to resist. He's still here now. Happy Spooniversary, dearest little Spoon!
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There has been a plot twist in the story of Silva, aka Not Our Cat.
In October 2024, a cat turned up here. We soon identified her, via neighbourhood FB, as a neighbour's cat who simply strayed a lot. All very normal — we liked having her about and vice versa. 🧵
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In a surprising development, it turns out that Silva is actually male! (Neutered very young, hence not very male-looking.) Anyway he is now vaccinated, FIV tested (neg), given his wormer and, best of all, renamed as Silvanus, aka Definitely Very Much Our Cat. (3/3)
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Fred is a creature of habit. Every evening he walks with me to the field boundary, admires the sky, then goes back with me to the walled garden to help retire the hens. Last of all, he jumps up on the bench, waiting for me to tell him what a very good cat he is.
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Today I went to see Jonathan Yeo's much-publicised portrait of the King, on show at Philip Mould's gallery in Pall Mall. A few reflections ... 🧵
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As night falls on this eve of All Hallows, may all your visitors be welcome ones
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Because my little cat Spoon was a foundling, we don't know his exact birthday. Instead, he has an official one: 15 September. Happy birthday, very much loved little Spoon! (The photos are Spoon as a kitten, and Spoon now.)
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For no reason other than the fact I happened to stumble across it today, here's a photo of my beloved grandmother, Martha Gardener Galloway, holding a baby me — the two of us apparently lost in mutual admiration against the backdrop of my parents' garden. I still miss her.
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Molasses the cat would like you to know that, despite now being over 20 years old, he has just chased, and indeed very nearly caught, a butterfly
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It's strange to think that my rescue hens, despite being about 18 months old, won't have any concept of changing seasons, if only because until two months ago they lived in crates, indoors, under artificial light. Here's Edith, anyway, amongst the fallen leaves.
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As it's his birthday today, here's a throwback photo of my little cat Spoon when he was only a babycat
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There are people whom I very much like and respect who take a different view, but I do think the House of Commons just did one of the bleakest, most ill-considered and shameful things in its whole long history. Life is precious — all life is precious, not just the easy bits.
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I've never managed to see the aurora borealis, but tonight I went down to Blakeney Quay, and this happened
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But recently I wanted to give her vet-grade wormer, so got in touch with her "owner". Much to general surprise, our neighbour worked out that Silva was actually not her cat, either. Silva was not chipped, hence no one's cat! So yesterday I took her to the vet to be examined.
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Yesterday, in the City of London with time to spare, I embarked on a mini pilgrimage. Here, at the corner of busy Cheapside and Ironmonger Lane, is the site of the family home of St Thomas of Canterbury (ie Thomas Becket). 🧵
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Since 2020 I've been working on this "house rescue" project near King's Lynn — bringing an unlisted old house back to what it should be. It's pleasing, at long last, to be able to share some signs of progress.
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The way to the meadow — and an old wall, which comes into its own in the early evening light
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There's so much in our world that seems bleak, ominous or worse — and yet I'm posting a photo of these rather ordinary little daffodils of ours anyway, because they are the first to bloom here this spring, and for me, anyway, that's always a sign of hope.
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Even by your standards and those of your team, this is extraordinary, actually painfully vivid reporting. Thank you for all that you are doing, but please stay safe!
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Good morning from Oak Bear, our Anglo-Norman bear made of oak, who has conceivably seen in circa 875 new years — which puts a lot of things into perspective somehow.
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Recue hen update: before we'd even finished assembling the new coop and run, Æthelflæd had made her way inside, checked it out and gone on to lay the first egg there. Here she is, making sure the world knows about her achievement.
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No, little Bridget, even amongst the snowdrops you are not, I'm afraid, entirely camouflaged. Keep trying!
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Just encountered someone here in Blakeney determined to remove a large buddleia in full flower because — brace yourself — it "attracts bugs". My sympathy is, to say the least, limited.
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Clouds often have silver linings. I've spent time today looking through my (many) photos of Canterbury Cathedral, reminding myself what a beautiful and sacred place it is, and remains, minor irritants notwithstanding. Here's a photo, in case you need reminding, too.
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So strange to image how many people must have enjoyed this view, over how many centuries
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Let's have some good news, however minor. I mentioned recently that my little silkie hen Broody was under the weather. Thanks to help from our excellent vet, we discovered that she had a slight parasite infestation — which has now been treated. Isn't she looking lovely today?
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Mitsuo's bowl is empty, Mitsuo's bowl has always been empty, no one put milk in Mitsuo's bowl at 4 am today, Mitsuo has not already had a whole bowl of milk, Mitsuo has never known human kindness or sympathy
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Very sad news today. When I went to feed my little cat Moshi this afternoon, she was dead in her basket in the Orangery. A vet was unable to determine any obvious cause. Moshi was the most velvety, gentle, delightful little soul and I can't believe she's gone just like that. RIP.
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Just to clarify, I'm not particularly bothered by this — just curious whether other people thought it was a strange thing to do. We left a polite note on the windscreen. As we don't have a car perhaps whoever it was just thought there was no one about, which was incorrect.
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It was with profound sadness, but also much gratitude, that today we said goodbye to our beautiful, wise, convivial but also very gentle cat Molasses (14.5.03-26.11.23). We were lucky to have had him in our lives for so very long. Sleep well, sweetest of old cats.
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Thinking today of my late neighbour Alan, who died a few years ago now. Today, his modest bungalow is being largely demolished in order to be rebuilt as three-storey house. I am sad, though, to see the garden has been stripped away. His late wife had planted it, & he loved it.
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Thank you to everyone who has said such kind things about my elderly cat Molasses, and been so supportive of him, and me, this evening. I’m off to enjoy the garden and, err, a shockingly carb-heavy dinner, but it’s good to be reminded that there are lovely people on Twitter too x
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Someday, a museum director will announce that instead of a "transformation" entailing a "masterplan" and "major expansion", he or she just wants to run the place competently, make sure it's easy and pleasant to visit, and leave it at that. Someday. But not yet, apparently.
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... for many hours, it had been unveiled and praised by the King. It had a definite aura about it. So yes, for me at any rate, there is still something special about a good portrait, just as there is about the monarchy — even when it's hard to explain precisely how or why. /🧵
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From an old house in Crowland, Lincolnshire — some very resilient Minton tiles
#TilesOnTuesday
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There's a particular set of colours that signals the end of summer, and here they were this morning
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We had friends round for tea this afternoon, which was a very good excuse for this.
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For those of you who like this sort of thing, here are a few more images of our "rescue house" near King's Lynn that I mentioned the other day — still very unfinished, but we're getting there!
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A very elderly neighbour just rang me up to tell me that she's inherited an "ancient document" with relevance to our area, and invited me round for lunch after Christmas because there is something that puzzles her about it, and now I'm officially living in an MR James story
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On the way back from church today, I stopped off to visit a friend's grave. These snowdrops were nearby. I found them cheering, somehow — I think she'd have liked them, too.
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It was warm enough this evening, believe it or not, to have a rather early dinner out on the lawn, at which we were joined by Bridget the little cat
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The main beech tree in this photo appears, fully grown, on an aerial photo from the mid 1940s — how splendid to think that people have been enjoying this brief burst of almost unbelievable colour every autumn for more than a century now.
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Why are some people so horrible? I post a photo of a my dear old cat in the sunshine, and get abuse about how he’s “still harming nature”. I suppose I should just rise above it, & I’ll delete this soon, but - imagine being so morally impoverished that you’d do that sort of thing!
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Here's our little cat Matilda, looking particularly grumpy and resentful this evening
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I will never entirely lose my sense of delight that each morning's sunrise is, even when seen from the same spot, pleasingly different
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Here's the view up to the little loft over the back kitchen at the Manor House, Crowland — for no particular reason, other than that I thought the light was really beautiful there today.
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North Norfolk doing what North Norfolk does best: a beech tree and an old flint barn, with a skein of geese flying overhead
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Conventionally tidy? No. Helpful for insects, birds, bats, hedgehogs and other welcome neighbours? Yes, absolutely!
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Good morning from Silva, once Not Our Cat but increasingly Slightly Our Cat Actually
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Twenty one years ago tonight, this little person was born — having turned up rather early, at 27 weeks. Today he's tall, handsome, funny, sweet, incredibly intelligent, a very good human being and the absolute joy of my life. Happy birthday, George!
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When we bought our "rescue house" near King's Lynn, the central chimney, focal point of the roof-line, had long since been taken down to roof level. We reinstated it. Today I'm having the first fire using that new chimney — a happy milestone!
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Three years ago today, almost to the hour, I had a call asking if someone could bring round a rescue kitten, for me to look after just for a few days. Spoiler: this tiny little creature found his way into our hearts and home and never left!
Happy Spooniversary, everyone!
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First, size matters, not least in portraiture. A human face and hands read differently when they are at much larger than normal human scale. The Yeo portrait looks very different "in person" than on a computer screen. All that red is both more varied and also more immersive.
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Hen update: less than three weeks after being rescued, the ex-caged hens now act as if they've lived here forever — very much to the manner born! Here is the regal if still slightly scruffy Æthelflæd, surveying her domain.
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Today is the feast of St Thomas of Canterbury. On this day, 854 years ago, in the early evening, St Thomas was hacked to death in the north transept of his own cathedral by a party of knights who wished, in doing so, to please Henry II. Here is the site of his martyrdom.
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In other, slightly surprising news, we've recently bought the Manor House in Crowland, Lincs — a really beautiful, historic Grade II* building in need of sensitive care & restoration. If you're interested in following this journey, you can do so on @CrowlandMH
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"the King's two bodies". In its simplest form, this is the distinction between the King as a normal human — corporeal, ageing, indeed mortal — versus that other version of the King, whose political, ceremonial and indeed spiritual role transcends any one individual life.
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Here's the fantastic door at St Margaret's, Cley-next-the-Sea. On my way to 8 am communion, it's obscurely pleasing for me to reflect that my 13 x great uncle, who was the rector here c 1520, would also have passed through this door, seeking much the same thing that I do.
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This bedroom in the west Norfolk "rescue house" is by no means done yet, but it's making progress
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