Woodbridge revisited

We had a slow lazy morning, but the sun appeared and the dense cloud of the past few days began to break up, Ann drove us along winding country lanes for lunch in Woodbridge, a lovely village up the river Deben, which we last visited seven years ago, with its old tide mill, boatyard and quay crammed with smallish marine craft. Houseboats, seagoing barges, yachts and the suchlike are crammed alongside each other resting on mud when we arrived, as the tide was out. Several craft of typical character were from from Holland, a near neighbour in maritime terms.

We parked a couple of miles out of the town, down river at Kyson Hill, then walked down to the footpath along the river into Woodbridge. I heard a curlew and an oyster-catcher as we walked, but we didn't see either. The restaurant we were aiming for turned out to be fully booked, so we bought sandwiches and drinks at a modest sandwich shop nearby and took them down to a seat overlooking the estuary, and ate them in the sun watching a couple of snipe foraging for food in the mud, twenty metres away - I think there were more than a dozen snipe feeding in the area, along with the gulls and other birds I couldn't identify a hundred metres away. I took over eighty photos, half of them of birds in the estuary, uploading these from two cameras after supper.

In the news recently Haiti has suffered another devastating earthquake with around two thousand deaths reported. Emergency aid has been slow to reach the country, perhaps partly due to international attention being distracted to the crisis in Afghanistan? Since the recent American and allied  forces withdrawal, the country has been overrun at shocking speed by Taliban insurgents. The capital Kabul was handed over without a fight, and in the past few days thousands of people have sought to flee the country, fearful of reprisals because of their role in government, or as contractors with allied forces. 

Britain has made a commitment to receive up to twenty thousand refugees, army interpreters and their families. Around the country local governments are expressing willingness to offer hospitality, but are concerned that national government should support them financially. This particular national government has a reputation for over-promising and under delivery. It's impossible to see what the impact will be of this inevitable moral decision if post brexit and covid economic recovery is very slow, limiting resources to help poor and deprived citizens as well as those being offered sanctuary. 

Looking back to times when Ugandan Asian and Vietnamese refugees were welcomed to Britain, as with Jewish refugees from the Nazis, it seems likely that in the long run Britain will again benefit from a new wave of incomers bringing their creative gifts and energy to bear in freedom and security of their new country. Some people see refugees only as a threat, and not as a promise that revitalises national life and identity. Will this ever change? I hope and pray it will.

Weekend church crawl

We headed East on the M4 yet again Friday morning, this time bound for Suffolk, to stay with weekend with Eddie and Ann in Kirton. It was an uneventful journey, which with a couple of refreshment stops took us five and a half hours. It was great to arrive and settle down with tea in the garden.

Saturday morning we drove over to Woodbridge on the Deben estuary, to inspect the tide mill, which has been restored again and re-opened since our last visit seven years ago, albeit the mill wasn't grinding grain as usual because a replacement cog was needed. The low tide view of the estuary was, as ever, interesting, with sightings of oyster-catchers, egrets, black headed gulls and a solitary curlew. 

We wandered along Woodbridge's High Street, as crowds were gathering for the local carnival procession. Four Scottish pipers were playing outside Boots'. We didn't hang around long as we didn't feel in need of crowds or excitement, so we headed out into the countryside to visit the nearby hamlet of Ufford with its fourteenth century church dedicated to the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, containing what is reputed to be one of the tallest mediaeval font covers anywhere. 

As with all the churches in this region where there's so much flint in the ground, church exteriors are beautifully decorated with mosaics rendered in napped flint. 

 The weather wasn't very promising, so we headed back to Kirton for a late lunch, and avoided the threat of rain.

Sunday morning we joined the congregation of a dozen at nearby Falkenham village church for the Eucharist, and called at the local farm shop for fruit and veg on the the way back to the house. Then, we headed north to visit the seaside town of Southwold, calling on the way at Blythborough Parish Church of the Holy Trinity, known as 'The Cathedral of the Marshes' because of its size. 

It's a classic Early English building, made to feel grand as it fills with light streaming in through its many windows even on an overcast day. It has an ancient chancel screen and not too many pews enhancing its spaciousness. There's also a priest's room over the south porch, converted into an oratory chapel, and an exterior again decorated with napped flint mosaic. The building reflects the importance and prosperity of an early mediaeval mercantile town, which subsequently declined in importance and shrank back into being a village of a couple of dozen houses. 

Before continuing our journey, we had a pleasant lunch in the village pub, the White Hart Inn, overlooking the Blyth river estuary, and arriving at Southwold we parked away from the beach, which we though was bound to be busy on a weekend. Walking down a lane, familiar to Eddie and Ann, we came across a wild plum tree, laden with ripe fruit, collected to be transformed into a delicious plum crumble for supper.

Southwold boasts some beautiful golden sand, and a modest pier in good repair and well used, with an assortment of unusual attractions you can find out about here. 

 There must be altogether, half a mile of neat beach huts along the promenade each brightly coloured, with individual, often eccentric names. 

 There's no garish advertising or cheap coloured flashing lights. It's a resort of restrained good taste and elegance English style, and boasts some eighteenth and nineteenth century houses and shops that add to its character. 

The town's Parish Church, dedicated to St Ethelbert, is the same size layout and design as that in Blythborough, but with a larger tower. 

 Its mediaeval chancel screen boasts a dozen panels depicting the apostles, faces defaced by seventeenth century puritan iconoclasts, but otherwise undamaged. It was amazing in the same day to see two similar interesting churches in such good repair and well looked after. A credit to the communities that love and cherish their history.

The other remarkable thing about all the churches visited over the weekend is the proliferation of large carved mediaeval angels decorating their interior roofing. High up enough to escape the unwanted attention of perverse religious zealots, from whom heaven preserve us forever more.

Photos of more of the treasures we glimpsed in our travels can be found here.