Day Four

Saturday 21 August - Wortham to Thetford

Wortham was home to the author Richard Cobbold (scion of the Suffolk brewing family) between 1825 and 1877 - he was the Rector. He was best known for his novel, Margaret Catchpole, about a (real) Suffolk woman transported to Australia for stealing a horse. I had been reading this book for about a week before this trip - since this is a Nineteenth Century novel, I was of course only a quarter of the way through it.

Cobbold’s morality tale almost certainly took liberties with the truth - he needed a fallen but reformed woman, in thrall to a blackguard, to serve his own rectorly purposes, so that’s what he wrote. In 1860 he also published The Biography Of A Victorian Village - Wortham, which contained a series of drawings and character details of various members of the community during the mid-Victorian period.

It’s a spread-out community; the church is a mile or so North of the village green, from where I started my walk. The green is crossed by roads and drives leading to houses sprinkled round the edge. I walked West along Redgrave Road, which has a broad swathe of green on either side, all the houses being placed well back. Temporary fences contain animals - horses and sheep - on what may be common land.

The road was very quiet, but it was still good to turn off on to a footpath. “Very flat, Norfolk.” (N. Coward) “Ditto, Suffolk. (D.Oldman) The fields roll at most very, very gently, and often not at all. Hedges and bits of woodland break up the landscape, staving off boredom. Harvesting was going on, a combine charging along in a cloud of dust a couple of fields away. Despite leaving the Redgrave Road, I reached Redgrave anyway.

This is a long linear village, the variety of cars in drives indicating that it is not just a country retreat for the rich. There was a shop, but I had enough supplies on board.

Beyond Redgrave, the map indicated that I was climbing up to Gallows Hill. You could have fooled me. But there must be some relative height here, because this is a watershed. Within a hundred yards or so of each other, the Waveney starts to flow East, while the Little Ouse begins its journey West.

 Skirting a field full of huge sheds, I reached Hinderclay Fen, a nature reserve and recreation area managed (very well) by the local community. This was the first of a string of fens serving as nature reserves along the route. By now I was back on the Angles Way, heading generally Westwards.

As I walked past but not through the village of Thelnetham, A windmill appeared on the right. It was in a good state of repair, which often windmills are not these days.

The Angles Way lived up to its name again, dog-legging its way back towards the riverside, although now it was a different river, the aforementioned Little Ouse. Soon I  crossed the river, entering Norfolk again.

Beyond Gasthorpe, I passed School Plantation, Old School House and Riddlesworth Hall School. A pattern was beginning to emerge. The last-named is a rather imposing country house coverted, by the addition of features such as a spiral fire escape from a terrace (!) into a private school.

The Angles Way breathed its last at Knettishall Heath, a country park with open heathland, woodland walks, and a splashy pool in the river which was being enthusiastically splashed in by several children. One of the woodland walks (not on the map) led me to my next named path, a National Trail no less, the Peddars Way. In fact Knettishall Heath is the meeting place for four long-distance footpaths: the Angles Way, the Icknield Way Path, the Iceni Way and the Peddars Way (part of the Peddars Way and Norfolk Coast Path National Trail). As if that weren’t enough, the Hereward Way ends at nearby East Harling!

None of these routes actually goes to Thetford, my stop for the night, so I was now heading North on the Peddars Way to connect with what I hoped would turn out to be quiet lanes into Thetford. After a quick burst of main road (the A1066, not too much of a battle - arf! arf!) I found the first lane, which was indeed fairly quiet.

At Brettenham I turned West on to another road. There was not much traffic, but it was fast, witness the incredible amount of roadkill (all pheasants) spread along the tarmac. Luckily the lightness of the traffic allowed the drivers to give me a wide berth, and for a mile or so I happily trespassed along the edge of a couple of fields, allowing me to switch off from being on constant alert.

Just beyond Thetford Garden Centre (temptingly, they had a coffee shop, but I was too near to journey’s end to stop now, I turned South on to Green Lane, shown on the map as crossing fields towards the centre of the town. It actually now squeezes between a large enclave of new houses and a huge Tesco’s. Still, “they” have protected the route, even providing a shale surface to ease tired feet. By the time the ex-track, now footpath/cycleway ends, the town centre is very near.

Two glamorous police support officers directed me to my b&b, a former Georgian rectory. Later, after an excellent pub-supper, I went on a hunt for a statue. Not Tom Paine, he could wait his turn. I was after Captain Mainwaring. A riverside walk (lovely, with blood-orange sky glimpsed through the trees) I reached the Town Bridge, and there he was, sitting on a bench, contemplating glories to come in the service of King and Country. Why was he here? Because Thetford acquired a curious alias, doubling as South coast resort Walmington-on-Sea during filming for Dad's Army. Although the last of the 80 episodes was made more than thirty years ago, the programme still regularly tops "best of" lists, and Thetford's publicists are keen to point out the venues, in and around the town, where different scenes were filmed. The ultimate accolade is this statue of Captain Mainwaring, keeping watch by the river. I passed the Tom Paine statue just round the corner, but quite honestly it was a bit of an anti-climax.

Back at the b&b, I turned on the telly, and the next programme was, hand on heart, Dad’s Army!