August 19, 2007
Bury St. Edmonds - Wymondham
Where Mistress Poole suffers a Maladie of the ocular Organ and Master Jennings endures an unpropitious Deflation
We rode into Bury town centre in a heavy rainstorm. Barbara was complaining of a sore eye so as she went looking for a cure, we got a look at the town and no more than a glimpse of the cathedral. Apart from its relics of medieval piety, Bury St. Edmonds is also famous for the huge sugar beet refining plant on its northern edge, we looped around it on our way out back onto the quieter roads which took us north. The weather was intermittently rainy. During a dry spell near Troston, I had a puncture, in spite of having recently fitted Schwalbe Marathon Plus tyres to my machine. They're hard to handle and I struggled to push them back on the rims with my thumbs. At Hopton we bought food from a convenience store and picnicked on a bench in the churchyard, while the rain threatened.
At Attleborough the rain teemed. We waited out the burst in a shop doorway and then set out away from the main A11 road in the descending gloom. We stopped in Wymondham [ locally pronounced Wyndham] and found another Best Western Hotel in the town centre. The condition of Barbara's eye had not at all improved. This being Sunday, the hotel restaurant was closed. For her evening meal Barbara was content with a banana and the remains of our lunch. She was also discouraged from making an appearance outside our room, by the condition of her eye. I was hungry though and was given directions by hotel staff to two pubs where a square meal might be available.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
I walked past the first of the recommended alehouses, The Green Dragon, and in the misty darkness, into the grounds of Wymondham Abbey, intrigued by an eerie moaning and the strange emanation of light from what turned out to be the unoccupied ruin of the West Tower. Bats were flitting in and out of the vertical space above me. An explanatory panel informed me that this was a son et lumière display by a local artist. Three slowly changing, disco-style lights provided the faint lumière and a recording of atonal music the son. I was fascinated by the spookiness of it all.
More prosaically, I soon found the second pub, and ordered draught Guinness, steak and ale pie, peas and an enormous mound of chips. I asked the couple sitting next to me if they had any friends and relatives who'd like a chip. This is how I made the acquaintance of Hector, a local auctioneer, now retired to Spain. During the course of our subsequent conversation, I learned some of the trade wrinkles. For example, if an item up for auction is short of its desired price, the auctioneer might invent a bid. This has a risk in that if no-one else bids, the item in question becomes the auctioneer's. Hector recalled how he had inadvertently bought a hundred pigs at Bury St. Edmonds' livestock market. What to do then? Get on the phone to all the pig farmers of your acquaintance, agree a price and arrange transport. According to Hector, he was subsequently asked if he could get more of the same at the same price. At closing time, I went back to the hotel to sleep off the beer and the pie.
Today's ride: 65 km (40 miles)
Total: 233 km (145 miles)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 1 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |