In pursuit of Spring

103 years ago, in March 1913, Edward Thomas - later to become one of the greatest poets of the 20th century - set out from London heading southwest to Somerset in search of Spring. The result of this journey was In Pursuit of Spring, reprinted and re-issued earlier this year, providing a fascinating insight into life in England before the First World War.

The Guardian re-traced some of his journey and published comparable views showing what they look like 103 years on. http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2016/apr/07/edward-thomas-in-pursuit-of-spring-historic-photo-locations-revisited-little-toller

Reassuringly and surprisingly, the remarkable thing is not just how much is recognisable but remains substantially unchanged. Other than a few cars and road markings to be seen in Bridgewater much remains the same. Trees have come and gone and in one instance - on the Quantocks - largely bare hillsides have become woodland; not what we might expect. It is very easy to think the world is changing faster and faster and usually for the worse, but here the evidence suggests otherwise.

Not only the landscape remains, but a hundred years on and despite our fears and uncertainty over our climate, Spring still arrives in Britain from the southwest and progresses north and east at between one and two miles an hour. Thus we might reasonably expect to witness similar stage in growth and activity around a week later in Norfolk as opposed to London. Making that journey a couple of weeks ago, the visual evidence was there to be seen. In just 125 miles the season had changed. In Norfolk, Spring was just showing; in southwest London it had happened and in some cases was looking a little past it.

Two weeks on and Spring is here in northwest Norfolk if not quite yet in northeast Norfolk. It is that subtle. Plant growth and trees coming into leaf are a little late - maybe a week or so - this year, even after the very early daffodils prompted by the unusual warmth of December and the absence of any real cold during January and February might have suggested otherwise.

Even with this week's untimely incursion of arctic air, in another couple of weeks, the bluebells in the woods 30 miles away in northeast Norfolk will be in bloom and the sweep of Spring across England will be complete again.

A hundred or so years ago Thomas wrote, "This year she peeped out in February, and coldly wept through March, and in April burst upon us in all her dancing splendour, so that old men have shaken their heads and declared that there never was such a Spring".

Spring on the marsh

I have always loved this time of year in Norfolk, still bare and spare but with real if subtle signs of spring. Nowhere captures this feeling than on the marshes along the coastal path.

Just three short weeks ago, stepping down off the bank was to risk losing a boot and any semblance of being in control. Most walks involved at the very least an undue amount of slipping and sliding if not much closer contact with our best liquid mud. A couple of weeks of blocking high pressure and much of the mud has dried out to provide at least a hard crust and there is - maybe briefly, it is still March - a more predictable surface underfoot.

Other than our own peculiarity, Alexanders - which this year have started into their headlong growth rather earlier than usual, much of the plant growth is still just in winter mode. Not so with the birds who are doing what they normally do at this time and are clearly already well into the nesting season, and because spring growth has yet to provide cover, rather easier to spot.

The last couple of days served to remind us again that Easter in Norfolk often provides more in the way of weather than Christmas, but even with the return of wet and cold it does just start to feel a bit like Spring.

Coming home to roost

Nearly a year ago I wrote about a planning application for what most of us would regard as factory farming, a large - very large - poultry unit close to Sedgeford. It caused real concern to the local community on many fronts; the way the application was dealt with, the proposed use and the environmental impact. Like many things I subsequently lost track of what happened with it other than being aware that it didn't appear to have happened.

As is the way with these things, it hasn't been built but it definitely hasn't gone away. It's back and still causing substantial concern in its new improved 'reduced' form. I may be naive but my cursory inspection of the current application suggests that the reductions might soon be added back if it were approved. Indeed the changes are so simplistic that it requires little imagination to see what could eventually happen.

On the basis of the many well-researched and valid (in planning terms)  objections, it would be good to think it will not be approved but I am not holding my breath.  Objections on beauty, calm and the merits or otherwise of the proposed use sadly carry little weight, however strongly they are felt or expressed. Objections on grounds of conflicts with adopted plans and policies are of course considered - and there seem to be plenty here - but this kind of proposal does tend to keep coming back.

Closer to home, the long awaited car park for Burnham will reportedly be up and running by Easter. Just like the chickens this may be another project that will come home to roost. It has been talked about for a mere 50 years or so and unlike the poultry has (or had) the support of the community. Indeed in the published village plan it was one of the few projects that was generally wanted. It must therefore be disconcerting for the Parish Council who have suffered the slings and arrows of public comment during a very full and extended consultation to be now faced with justifiable - if after the event - concerns over safety in terms of its siting. The focus of these concerns is that the pedestrian connection to the village leads directly into the main traffic pinch-point at almost the narrowest point on the road where there is no footpath and no way of providing one.

The introduction of the parking restrictions that will accompany the car park - again the subject of a very full and extended consultation and negotiation - are now being seen as increasing the risk. Fewer cars parked on the road encourage faster speeds; the recent introduction of a 20mph limit seems to have actually led to more speeding in the bits where its possible and is pretty well impossible to enforce.

Hindsight is a marvellous thing, but listening to comments in a meeting earlier this week, it is clear that however full the consultation most people don't understand what a plan or project involves until it is actually there.  I suspect that if the whole project could be started again there would be some support for moving things round - siting the housing where the car park is, recreational space where the housing is, and parking where the recreational space is.  But that's with the benefit of hindsight and would probably have required another 50 years consideration.

Thankless in Burnham

The first time I engaged in village matters I was told by one who was older and wiser - and who was born here - that two topics could be relied on to spark conversation if not controversy, namely car-parking and the Christmas Lights.

As is the way with these things I soon found myself involved. On the first occasion, a seemingly endless discussion as to the cost and funding of the Christmas Tree prompted memories of a Vicar of Dibley episode where a similar meeting about the Dibley Fete lead the late lamented Roger Lloyd-Pack's character, Owen, to offer to give them the required money just to get the whole thing over with.

With a certain inevitably I shortly found myself in charge of the switch-on - the second biggest event in the annual life of the village - in the year that we ended up with a substantial number of female TV people from the soaps and game-shows. We also ended with a frightening number of visitors - I think the Police estimated it at more than 4,000 - and very few volunteers helping on the day.  Suffice to say discretion or cowardice got the better of me and I fled before the next event came round.

This year, the Gods decided to punish us and despite months of hard work and careful planning, the event fell foul of the worst weather seen for some time. Gusting winds, freezing rain and sleet and a forecast of more to come made the decision to cancel something of a formality in these days of Health & Safety and risk avoidance. Burnham was not alone in this with Fakenham also deciding not to proceed with their own event.

Self-evidently,  even in the new world of social media, people cannot be prevented from coming and indeed we wouldn't want to, but the planned visiting stalls and performances didn't happen. The lights did indeed go on at the appointed hour and despite the sleet were - to my ears at least - very much appreciated by the families who did brave the elements.

I am absolutely sure that just as in the midst of the chaos 6 years ago, those precious few who had put so much effort into planning, funding and generally organising the event would, on Saturday morning – just like Lloyd Pack's character, have given money for the whole thing to just go away. I am equally sure they haven't been inundated with thanks and yet if it didn't happen the village would miss it and the spirit of the place impoverished. As a local parent said, "Isn't it great that it still happens, its a family thing. I know the weather is c...  but it's not just this evening, it's Christmas"

Into the dark

A week ago we were still enjoying Summer Time or more correctly BST. With the change of the hour comes the general feel of grumpiness and frustration over the imposition of the dusk coming too early. Each year the annoyance at this change peaks at the changeover and the absurdity of some of the reasons behind it are highlighted again. Do we really need to be concerned about Scottish cows and their minders? Do we now need to be concerned about Scotland at all? It's not that clear that they are concerned about us.

In our rural community there is no getting away from the fact that an early dusk brings an early end to the working or trading day. Already in the first week of the new (or old) time - even though it is still October - the village goes quiet around sunset and its hard to believe that much is happening or likely to happen between 4.30 and 5. Given that the economy is so dependent on tourism this can hardly be viewed with enthusiasm by anyone.

Clearly this impact is not felt in urban areas, or is it? With an ever-ageing population there surely will be significant numbers who prefer to be home before dark given the choice. Equally there is growing evidence to support a move to delay the academic day, reflecting greater knowledge about how the younger brain operates. So why do we continue to respond to the now questionable needs of a minority hundreds of miles to the north in preference to the needs and preferences of the wider community and economy where we live?

Self-evidently the lighter mornings are a pleasure but there are clearly few up and about to enjoy them, and other than the Scottish dairy industry, I am unaware of other economic benefits. All in all, I am not convinced our annual reversion to GMT serves any real purpose.

On a lighter note

Since early June, Houghton Hall has been staging programmed illuminations of the West Front running from sunset to darkness every weekend, part of LightScape - an exhibition of light installations by James Turrell.

As ever, the closer and more convenient these things are, the less effort is made to visit. So it's no surprise that it was only on the final weekend, in fact the penultimate show, I travelled the 11 miles to witness it. Standing in the somewhat chilly - if very still - gathering gloom of a late October friday, a hundred yards west of one of England's finest houses waiting for the lights to come on felt a peculiarly English thing to be doing. And of course I was not alone - a rough guess would be that there were some 80 or 90 others dispersed across the grass. Some sitting, some standing and some - I assume - somewhat damply lying down. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the whole affair was how quiet it was, a view shared by the man standing alongside.

As is often the case with these things, the experience was about to become more memorable in a wonderfully English way. The lights did indeed come on and as my friend noted the hush became even deeper.

There were however, and quite naturally, a number of quiet conversations taking place including in the reserved deckchairs some 20 yards away; this was, I gathered, his Lordship with guests including patrons and supporters of the installation. My companion was then joined by a friend and naturally a further subdued conversation ensued.  It was, thus something of a surprise for us to be told off in a very English female voice from somewhere behind us - "would you mind being quiet. Some of us are trying to enjoy the performance."

With I thought admirable restraint, there was no riposte; we simply did as we had been told, greatly enjoying the illuminations, albeit with suppressed mirth and of course more aware of the conversations continuing in front of us. I can only assume my companions were, like me, contemplating the delicious possibility of the people who had made the whole thing possible being similarly reprimanded.

Sadly this was not to be, but I cannot imagine such an installation being viewed anywhere in the world in more reverential circumstances. There was no music or words to be outrageously interrupted. It was simply light - and it was beautiful.

Things to come

In just under twelve months time we will be having our next exhibition of watercolours by Gerard Stamp. It is now over 10 years since our first exhibition of his work in Norwich and in that time we have shown his work in London on three occasions, York Minster and last year in Exeter Cathedral - as well as further shows in Norwich and Burnham Market.

On each occasion we have seen not only previous purchasers returning but always the unprompted wonder and delight from those unfamiliar with his work that has been evident since that first exhibition.  This was particularly so in Exeter where our most successful show was achieved far from familiar territory, 300 miles away from our home patch.  However at the end of a successful exhibition the question inevitably arises, 'What next?'

The initial temptation was to return to London with all the metro-benefits (and costs) that this would bring. However, after York and Exeter, it is clear that showing these atmospheric paintings in the places which are their inspiration is most appreciated. In the light of this we opened negotiations with one of Gerard's favourite Cathedrals - and one of the finest - and are delighted to now be able to confirm that on September 23rd next year our next exhibition of his paintings will open in the Lady Chapel of Ely Cathedral.

At the point this was agreed, it all seemed quite a long time off and yet now, just a few months later, it seems to be coming closer with astonishing speed. The level of interest - even at this stage - is remarkable and through glimpses of the first few paintings we and our hosts are already starting to feel that frissance of wonder and delight at what is to come.