August 18, 2007
Harlow Mill - Bury St. Edmonds
Where Mistress Poole and Master Jennings take Tea and indifferent Cake, and encounter a rowdie Betrothal.
It was windy this morning, but dry and fine. Although the wind was in our favour it was strong enough to add a chill to what would have otherwise been a warm summer's day. We no longer had the river to guide us and followed for the most part, quiet back roads for the whole of the day. A large part of the county of Essex has been given over to the production of grain. The modern field system contrasts with the neatly preserved villages, no longer inhabited by an agricultural labour force but rather by commuters to the metropolis. Before us was a vista of clouds racing across a wide sky above the late summer landscape of large fields in different shades of cultivation.
We stopped to buy lunch in Great Dunmow and ate it in a park shivering in the wind. Great Dunmow is famous for the Dunmow Flitch. Here, I quote Wikipedia:
'The town is famous for its four-yearly ritual of the Flitch Trials, in which couples must convince a jury of six local bachelors and six local maidens that they have never wished themselves un-wed for a year and a day. If successful the couple are paraded through the High Street and receive a flitch of bacon. The last flitch trials were held in the town in the summer of 2004, with the next scheduled for 2008. The custom is ancient, and is mentioned in the Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales.' I believe a flitch is a whole side of bacon.
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Back on the road we passed through Great Barfield before stopping for tea at Finchingfield, which is almost ludicrously picturesque and given the preponderance of Olde Englande enterprises, as a consequence slides into kitsch. We took our tea at the Causeway Tea Cottage. Barbara was eager for cake so she ordered us a slice apiece to accompany our full tea service: delicately patterned china cups and saucers with teapot and accompanying pot of hot water. No fine grade Darjeeling though, just a couple of tea bags slung in the pot and the cake, although 'home-made' was dry and tasted of chemicals. Barbara picked up the tab, [I'm reluctant to even enter these places] which amounted to the best part of a ten pound note. So here's a warning to any trans-Atlantic readers, who may be contemplating a Tour of Britain: Ye Olde Tea Shoppe is best avoided. It's usually a victory for style [kitsch] over substance, expensive and would be better named The Old Twee Shop. A mug of tea in a working man's café should cost no more than 50 pence.
Tea party over, we continued picking our way through the back lanes of Essex still unsure of our destination for the night. Just before Clare we crossed the stream which marks the county boundary. We were now in Suffolk, a minor milestone. We thought we might stay the night in Clare, an attractive large village or small town, I'm not sure which, with a long wide main street, no room at the inn here though, nor at any of the B&Bs. We rode on out of the town [village] in a northerly direction. It was getting late. I had provided myself with a list of accommodation for the areas we were intending to pass through. I phoned a couple of B&Bs up the road and was knocked back. I suggested to Barbara, by way of incentive, that we we try the Best Western hotel in Bury St. Edmonds, a step-up in grade of accommodation from our usual and about twenty miles away. They had room, so we set off on a slow climb up to Hawkedon. On our way out of this prosperous looking village, past the expensively converted barns, the rain came down and heavily. We entered Bury on a main road, in the dark, then, by now wet and cold, out to the opposite edge of town and the hotel.
A wedding party was in progress and the restaurant was closed, but they offered us room service so we took it, a first for us. A DJ was slowly ploughing through the 60s and 70s, for the benefit of the wedding guests, as we munched on hamburgers and chips [fries] I remarked to Barbara that this must be a second or third wedding for both parties. I asked the waiter, when he came to clear our plates, how old were the betrothed. 'Early twenties,' he said. 'What about the music?' I enquired. 'Oh he always plays those.'
Today's ride: 98 km (61 miles)
Total: 168 km (104 miles)
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