Slitting Mill: A Circular Walk, The 1st FGC Memorial F&C Walk

The Start of a New Era

Staffordshire

This walk, like all real Fish and Chip walks, took place on Cannock Chase, at 68 km² (26 sq miles) one of the smallest of England’s 33 designated Areas of Outstanding Natural Beauty. Once a Royal Forest, it is now managed by Forestry England

It may be small, but it is perfectly formed and, most importantly, it is on our doorstep.

AONBs in England, Cannock Chase ringed
work of DankJae © Natural England copyright 2021. Contains Ordnance Survey data © Crown copyright and database right 2021. Reproduced under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0.

The Gathering

On one of the mildest days of a distinctly cool winter, 5 participants gathered on the Car Park of The Horns Inn at Slitting Mill. Alison C, who had nobly the made the journey from Cheltenham, Lee and Sue, Mike and Alison T, and some worried looking bloke with only half his face in the picture.

Left to right, Sue, Alison C, Lee, Mike, Alison T and me, struggling withy the camera

Anne had cried off on the morning. She is a new grandparent and had been called upon for urgent grandparenting duties, so not only did we miss her company, we missed her skills at taking mass-selfies. I have little experience, short arms and arthritic fingers - and that’s my excuse.

The date of the very first Fish and Chip Walk – originally three teachers talking a country walk to celebrate the end of the Christmas Term – is known only to the celestial scorer, if there is one (and if there is, it is Bill Frindall, as every cricket fan of sufficient maturity knows).

The proto-chip walks were not always on Cannock Chase, and did not necessarily involve fish and chips but over time they settled into that pattern and that name. Brian and I were two of the three originals, the other, the actual progenitor of the Chip Walks (and the 11-year South West Odyssey and much more) was Francis, about whom, more later.

Getting Started

Our walk started and finished at Slitting Mill. A ‘slitting mill’ slits iron bars into rods as part of the nail making process. The first such mill was built here in 1611 and was followed by several others. The mills are long gone, but the village has appropriated the name. Slitting Mill today has 250 inhabitants and looks a pleasant place to live.

The mills were powered by water and the source, Horns Pool, is just behind the pub. It is now used by Staffordshire Match Fishing Club who charge other humans to fish the pool…

Horns Pool

…but kingfishers use it for free. ‘Look, there’s a kingfisher,’ said Alison C standing, behind me as I took the photo. By the time I was able to follow her pointing finger, it had, of course gone. I have still never seen a Common Kingfisher, though I have spotted and photographed white-throated and pied kingfishers in more exotic locations.

We followed the mill stream as it flows beside and a little above a field – which always looks slightly odd. We passed a row of houses, the last always has somebody on guard and at this time it is, inevitably, Father Christmas.

Father Christmas on guard duty.

On to the Chase

Here we turned our back on the open fields typical of most Staffordshire countryside…

Staffordshire farmland

….and made our way onto Cannock Chase.

Lee, Mike, Alison C On Cannock Chase

Mike had organised the route, and supplied us all with a nice map. The OS map from which it is derived shows the footpaths and the forestry tracks, but not the more recently created cycle tracks which cater for the large mountain biking community. We inadvertently found ourselves on one such track and a passing cyclist stopped to point out our error. He was polite and reasonable and at the next opportunity we found a new path a little to the north which headed in the right direction. There is never a shortage of paths on Cannock Chase, the problem was always knowing which one you are on. GPS has simplified such matter and we easily found our way down too at the visitor centre on Marquis Drive.

Slitting Mill is at the northeasterly corner of the route in red

The Brindley Valley

The Tackeroo

From the visitor centre we found our way into the Brindley Valley.

The Alisons inspect a pool in the Brindley Valley

Cannock Chase was a busy place during World War One with two large army camps, one of which later became a prisoner of war camp. To move in all the necessary equipment and keep the camp supplied a narrow-gauge railway was built. The Tackeroo, as it was called (nobody knows why) branched from the West Coast Main Line at Milford, just north of the Chase, made its entry through a cutting (now known as The Cutting), ran through Brocton Camp on the high ground west of the Sherbrook Valley across Penkridge Bank and through Rugeley Camp and the Brindley Valley, eventually reaching Hednesford where it joined the Rugeley-Walsall line.

Several of these walks have started through The Cutting on to the Chase, but this was the first along the Brindley Valley and the southern part of the Tackeroo. Our path ran close to the old rail line though it is no longer visible to the casual observer.

Through the Brindley Valley - the line of the Tackeroo was somewhere to our right.

Brindley Village

After the war the camps were dismantled and the rail tracks removed, though finding chunks of concrete among the trees that can only be explained as war-time remnants as not uncommon.

The hospital on Brindley Heath remained in use until 1924 and was then purchased by the West Cannock Colliery Company to house miners working at the West Cannock No. 5 pit near Hednesford. A community known as Brindley Village grew around it and a school was built. In 1953 the residents were relocated to council housing more conveniently situated in Hednesford. The village was demolished leaving only the occasional foundation and the odd fencepost.

Towards Fairoak Lodge

Before Penkridge Bank Road we turned right across Tackeroo Camp, a modern campsite, deserted in January, and towards more wooded country.

Across the Tackeroo Camp

Some way beyond Marquis Drive we encountered a metal barrier across our path, bearing a line-drawing of a man in a hard hat holding up his hand and saying ‘stop’ and the phrase “Forestry Work, Danger of Death.” These are not uncommon on the Chase, and the ‘danger of death’ is a little overstated. The hazards presented by large vehicles manoeuvring on rough ground, falling trees and men with chain saws are real enough, but they usually work only in a small area of the ground cordoned off. Even so we were reluctant to climb over such a barrier. A short distance away, however, another barrier had been moved aside, whether by forestry workers or an anarchist walker we did not know, but it gave access to path going in the right direction.

We found ourselves on another well-made cycle path, but this time cyclist-free.

Along the cycle path

In places it was steep and the mud was slippery. In theory, I think, Lee was helping Alison T down a slippery section, but a minute or so earlier it was Lee who had had found his footing sliding swiftly downhill followed by an unintentional, though relatively decorous, descent into the mud.

Mutual assistance on a perilous descent, Lee and Alison T

Eventually we sighted the forestry work a couple of hundred metres ahead. Turning left up the side of the valley, we found the next path up which took us away from any danger and delivered us to the access road to Fairoak Lodge.

Back to The Horns

From Fairoak Lodge we decided not to follow the planned route which dropped down to the pools, but keep instead to the higher ground which took us to Birches Valley visitor centre.

On the High Ground approaching Birches Valley

We walked through the visitor centre and Lady Hill Coppice beyond, emerging onto the minor road just outside Slitting Mill. The Horns, where Lynne would join us for the traditional fish and chip lunch was only a short step away.

The Horns, Slitting Mill

We had booked a late lunch, and as the light fades early in late December there was no afternoon walk. The route had been shorter than the traditional walk. Although Lee and Sue are still in (or at least not unadjacent to) their prime and could walk much further, some us (well me) are beginning to feel their age and find 11km quite long enough. Thanks to all for your patience, thanks to Mike for the route planning and to Alison C for making the effort to come so far to be part of it.

I mentioned Francis, the originator of these walks at the start. Last year he joined us for lunch and in the spring moved into sheltered accommodation in Oxfordshire nearer to his daughter. He died suddenly of a heart attack in June. For more, see updates to Dr Francis Gibbs Crane MBE.

Francis lunching at the Ship Inn, Danebridge many years ago

I first blogged about these walks in 2010, and that walk was indisputably the Nth of the series. Last year’s was the (N + 12)th and I feel it is time for new, and more definitive numbering. So, without consulting anybody, and solely for the purpose of this blog, I have named this the First Francis Crane Memorial Fish and Chip Walk. Blog titles are best kept short so, as you can see at the top, abbreviations have been necessary.

The Annual Fish and Chip Walks

The Nth: Cannock Chase in Snow and Ice (Dec 2010)
The (N + 1)th: Cannock Chase a Little Warmer (Dec 2011)
The (N + 2)th: Cannock Chase in Torrential Rain (Dec 2012)
The (N + 3)th: Cannock Chase in Winter Sunshine (Jan 2014)
The (N + 4)th: Cannock Chase Through Fresh Eyes (Dec 2014)
The (N + 5)th: Cannock Case, Dismal, Dismal, Dismal (Dec 2015)
The (N + 6)th: Cannock Chase Mild and Dry - So Much Better (Dec 2016)
The (N + 7)th: Cannock Chase, Venturing Further East (Jan 2018)
The (N + 8)th: Cannock Chase, Wind and Rain (Dec 2018)
The (N + 9)th: Cannock Chase, Freda's Grave at Last (Dec 2019)
The (N + 10)th: Cannock Chase in the Time of Covid (Dec 2020)
The (N + 11)th: Cannock Chase, Tussocks (Dec 2021)
Dec 2020 - no walk
The (N + 12)th: Cannock Chase, Shifting Tectonic Plates (Dec 2023)
The 1st FGC Memorial Walk: Cannock Chase. Slitting Mill, a Circular Walk (Dec 2024)

Eating Aldeburgh

Finding Good Food on the Suffolk Coast

Introduction

Suffolk

Aldeburgh

This post differs from the similarly named posts for Malta, Madeira and elsewhere. There we read dozens of menus to see what local people ate, or at least the version of it restaurateurs wish to present to visitors, and then set about eating it

We did our research for those posts in Valletta and Funchal, both orders of magnitude larger than the small Suffolk coastal town of Aldeburgh (pop: just over 2,000). We did read the menus of Aldeburgh’s small clutch of restaurants and although they presented a cross-section of modern British restaurants – far better and more diverse than they were thirty or forty years ago – there was little uniquely Suffolk about them, so we had to look elsewhere.

Suffolk with Aldeburgh (underlined) and the position of Suffolk in England (inset)

The people of Aldeburgh and their visitors obviously care about good food. They have, I am delighted to report, no McDonald's, Burger King, KCF, Domino’s or Starbucks, but instead there is an artisan butcher’s, a bakery or two, a specialist cheesemonger and several independent coffee shops (plus the inevitable supermarket). They also have one local speciality which marks out the town - the fish shacks.

The Fish Shacks

Aldeburgh’s pebble beach is not much use to the bucket and spade brigade, but is good for landing the catch from small fishing boats. Much of that catch finds its way to the line of sheds along the top of the beach

Fish shacks, Aldeburgh

These are not officially called the ‘fish shacks,’ but the name seems appropriate. From this angle they look rather down-at-heal, but that is misleading. Aldeburgh is an affluent little town and these sheds deal in the finest and freshest fish available – and charge accordingly.

Smoked Fish

A couple of them specialise in smoked fish, and this was there we headed on our first morning.

Smoked fish shack

We bought some smoked haddock paté. Which made a pleasant lunch…

Smoked haddock paté, toast and a salad

…and some hot-smoked eel. Hot-smoking is carried out between 74° and 85°C. The fish cooks during the process, resulting in stronger smoky flavour and a firm, moist texture. Cold-smoking is done between 20° and 30° and the fish requires curing with salt afterwards.

The eel looked like a length sawn from a policeman’s truncheon, but the advice given was to cut it in rounds between the vertebrae and removed the leathery skin with a sharp knife. This worked and we gently warmed the resulting discs and served them with buttered boiled potatoes and the last spears of the English asparagus season. And very good it was, too.

Smoked eel, boiled potatoes and asparagus

Fresh Fish

On our final day, we returned to the shacks, browsing for a fish.

An Aldeburgh fish shack

At a shack – not the one photographed – we spied a Dover sole. Big enough to feed two, it was eye-wateringly expensive, because Dover sole is, but we could not resist it.

It was a whole fish, so Lynne decided she needed some advice about preparation. The internet was, as ever, full of suggestions, but it would be a remarkable holiday cottage which supplied the sort of knives needed to fillet the fish raw.

Fortunately, Rick Stein had a practical solution. First, remove the skin. A nick near the tail starts the process…

A nick by the tale starts the process

…and each side comes off in one piece, just as Rick promised. This allows you to deal with the guts which largely sit just behind the head.

Pealing off the skin

Then dust with flour and pan-fry it whole - if your pan is big enough. Even after removing the head, a cut across the fish was necessary to make it fit our pan. Fillet after cooking…

Filleting the cooked sole

…then serve with crushed new potatoes and locally picked samphire.

Dover sole with crushed new potatoes and samphire

Thank you, Lynne (and Rick).

Restaurant Fish

Take Away

Our attempt to eat out on Wednesday ended in failure. We had not booked, every table in the restaurant was occupied and we were turned away with apologies. Time for Plan B.

I earlier listed the fast-food abominations Aldeburgh does not have, and nowhere did I mention a chip shop. I give fish and chips a pass because they are deeply embedded in British food culture, and because they are almost all independent, there are no vast chains of franchised identikit fish and chip shops.

That said, I cannot remember the last time I was in a chippy, but it was years, maybe decades ago. Aldeburgh has two, both under the same management, and one, the Golden Galleon, was 50m from our front door.

The Golden Galleon, Aldeburgh. Our home for the week was up the alley to the left of the chippy

Inside it was bright, clean and did not smell of stale frying. Although there were, as always, other accompaniments we ordered cod and mushy peas with the inevitable chips, took them home and ate them from the chip papers.

Lynne with her fish and chips

The batter was crisp, light and golden, the fish huge and flaky and the chips fresh and not even slightly soggy – and that is as good as it gets.

Eating Out

We returned to our original choice of restaurant two days later, this time with a reservation.

Lynne was disappointed that the red mullet was finished, but instead chose the Catch of the Day, a pleasing plump, fresh plaice that arrived, lurking beneath a bed of capers. She was pleased with her alternative choice.

A nice piece of plaice

Lobster Thermidor is a somewhat dated symbol of luxurious, even extravagant dining.

Thermidor (19 July to 17 August) was the ‘Heat month’ of the French Revolutionary Calendar. Despite their richly descriptive names – Brumaire (Fog month 22 Oct to 20 Nov), Floréal (Flower month, 20 April – 19 May) – the Calendar did not catch on and was abandoned by Napoleon in 1805.

Created in Paris in the 1890s, Lobster Thermidor involved freshly boiled lobster being taken from its shell, shredded and incorporated into a sauce based on onions, mustard, wine, brandy and cream. It is then replaced in the shell, covered with grated Gruyère and popped under a grill until the cheese has melted.

There was no Lobster Thermidor on the menu, but this coast is best known for its crabs, so they had a Crab Thermidor. Maybe it was a bit tongue-in-cheek, and I ordered it with a sense of irony, but it was excellent. Lynne objects to ‘fish that has been messed about’ and although I am less purist, I expected the rich, complex sauce and the cheese to drown out the delicate flavour of crab, but not so, instead they worked together. It was nicely presented, though the salad dressing had a sweetness I could have done without.

Crab thermidor

Having skipped the starter, I was pleased to find I could manage a dessert. I chose the vanilla pannacotta, with rhubarb poached in vodka and shortbread crumb.

Vanilla pannacotta

The pannacotta wobbled nicely, though it may have been too wobbly, but that is erring on the right side. It also tasted of vanilla - I am always pleased when ‘vanilla’ really means ‘vanilla’ and is not being used as a synonym for ‘plain.’ I am unsure why vodka was involved; it hardly added to the flavour. The shortbread crumb provided a pleasing extra texture

An East Anglian Lunch

Not everything is about fish. We ate a lunch using ingredients culled from the specialist local shops where every item was, if not from Suffolk, at least from East Anglia – except the butter, which was sold as being just ‘British.’

An East Anglian lunch

The sourdough bread is from the bakery round the corner.

The tomatoes were supermarket bought in Staffordshire, but were (coincidently) grown in Cambridgeshire.

The cheese top left on the board is Wensum White, an artisan goat’s cheese made at Fielding Cottage on the Steggles family farm near Honingham, just west of Norwich. It is a mild, semi-soft cheese, often described as a ‘goat brie,’ though I find that confusing. It has a delicate flavour and a sumptuous texture. The name comes from the River Wensum which winds its way across Norfolk and through Norwich.

Baron Bigod (pronounced By God, by some, and Bigg-od by others) is made at Fen Farm near Bungay, on Suffolk's northern edge. Made using a Brie-de-Meaux recipe Baron Bigod has a silky breakdown under the rind and balances a clean lactic brightness with mushroomy, vegetal notes (Neal’s Yard Dairy). I always enjoy Brie-de-Meaux and Baron Bigod is as good as any, and better than most. It is surely one of the best cheeses made in England.

Digression alert! Last November we lunched at ‘Pick and Cheese’ at Seven Dials in London, where I had the privilege of tasting Truffle Baron Bigod, the same cheese with a layer of truffle infused ricotta.

Baron Bigod is expensive, the truffled version is, in Lynne’s words, extravagant. As she does not like truffles, I fear I cannot justify such extravagance.

Truffled Baron Bigod, Pick and Cheese

​

Digression over.

The sausage is a Suffolk chorizo. In 2019 we visited the Countryfile Live exhibition at Blenheim in Oxfordshire where we encountered the prize-winning Suffolk Salami Company in the British charcuterie tent.

Lane Farm Foods, Countryfile Live

Everything they produce is made at Lane farm in the village of Brundish, 20Kkm, as the crow flies, northwest of Aldeburgh. They make their chorizo with DOP Pimentón de la Vera paprika, a smoked paprika imported from Spain, but otherwise ingredients are local. It is smaller in circumference and more densely packed with pork than the mass-produced chorizo imported by supermarkets. Whether Spanish artisan chorizo’s are like this I do not know, but it matters not. This is a spicy, meaty delight and encouraged us to return to the shop and acquire a fennel salami to take home.

And In Conclusion….

We ate many other things during our stay, which were not particularly Suffolk, including an excellent pair of Barnsley chops from the local artisan butcher. There were also several, ‘cup-of-tea-and-a-sandwich lunches, and an occasionally beer and a packet of crisps. After all the food, I should mention that Suffolk is home to the excellent Adnam’s Brewery - and half a dozen or more wineries. We might possibly investigate those another time.

And we did not just eat. We visited castles and Anglo-Saxon burial grounds, old churches, local museums and more, as can be found in the other Aldeburgh post (coming soonish)

Aldeburgh and Around

Part 1: Strollng Round Town
Eating Aldeburgh

and much more to come

Strolling Round Town: Aldeburgh and Around Part 1

This is a new post though it covers the events of the 1st and 2nd of July 2024.
It will be moved to its appropriate chronological position shortly.

Fine Fish an Excellent Museum and a Church Full of Memorials

But first, Ickworth House

01-Jul-2024

Suffolk

Aldeburgh is just over 200 miles from home (North Staffordshire), but it is an easy journey, when there are no hold ups, and we had none. Following the M6 which morphs into the A14, there are no traffic lights or roundabouts for 170 miles. The final wander through rural Suffolk is a little slower, and the journey takes around four hours driving. We paused in Bury St Edmunds for a break and to visit Ickworth House.

Suffolk and its position within England)

Being third son, Frederick Hervey never expected to inherit the Earldom of Bristol or the Ickworth estate, so he went into the church, as third sons often did. He was ordained in 1754 and  by 1768 he was Bishop of Derry and doing an eccentrically conscientious job.

His older brothers succeeded to the title and estate, one after another. Both died relatively young and without legitimate issue, so in 1779 Frederick Hervey became the 4th Earl of Bristol aged 49. He liked to be known as the Earl Bishop but held some surprisingly progressive views. After dabbling in Irish nationalist politics in 1783 the authorities decided he should absent himself from Ireland,

Now Ickworth was his he, designed himself an implausible house – two widely separated wings linked by a rotunda.

Model of Ickwoth House

He spent much of his time travelling around Europe indulging his passion for buying art. The Rotunda, intended to display his collection, was the only part finished in his life time. Unfortunately, he lost his collection, trying to return home through France during the Napoleonic wars.

The Ickworth Rotunda

The rotunda belongs to the National Trust and is open to visitors. There are bedrooms and drawing rooms, their walls covered with largely English art…

Arty drawing room in the Rotunda, Ickworth House

… and other rooms stuffed with treasure.

Silver room, Ickworth Rotunda

He continued to travel, dying in Italy in 1803. He tendency to roll into town and put up the very best hotel led to a fashion for hotel owners renaming their properties ‘Hotel Bristol.’ There are still 50 in Italy, 20 in France and dozens more dotted across Europe and beyond.

His heirs completed the house, the east wing is now a hotel, the west wing a conference centre.

Ickworth east wing

We made use of the café and continued towards Aldeburgh

Arriving at Aldeburgh

We reached Aldeburgh in the late afternoon. The former fisherman’s cottage we had rented was in West Lane which connects the High Street with The Terrace. The lane is 40m long, and as The Terrace is 4m higher than the High Street, ends with a flight steps, the top being steep, narrow and with right-angled turns.

West Lane, Aldeburgh

We found a parking place on The Terrace and wrestled our baggage down to the cottage.

Our home for the week, Aldeburgh

The cottage felt surprisingly spacious for a two-up, two-down, was fully renovated and equipped with many things that would have boggled the minds of the earliest inhabitants, but we believe we cannot live without.

We cooked dinner, opened a bottle of wine and watched television – living the dream!

Aldeburgh Pronunciation Guide

Aldeburgh

Two recent posts were set in Wales, (Pontcysyllte and Llangollen) where place names can be problematic for anglophones, but sometimes even English place names do not sound quite as English-speaking foreigners might reasonably expect. All but the most uninformed tourist knows that Edinburgh is pronounced Edin – bruh, and the same applies to Scottish towns like Helensburgh and Fraserburgh. Aldeburgh is in southern England, 420 miles south of Edinburgh and as far as I know the only -burgh in England, but it too is pronounced Ald-bruh, just like Edinburgh – though with an extra redundant ‘e’.

02-Jul-2024

Aldeburgh Morning Stroll

There was no great rush to be up and out and there were some routine matters to deal with before setting out on a tentative exploration. We encountered some sunshine during our stay, but Tuesday was typical of the summer of ’24, threatening rain, and occasionally delivering.

With 2,500 inhabitants Aldeburgh has the design and facilities of a small town, rather than a large village. We walked to the High Street, which is wide and lined with apparently thriving businesses and turned north, away from the town centre.

We passed sturdy Edwardian homes….

Sturdy Edwardian homes, Aldeburgh

….flower filled gardens…

Flower filled gardens, Aldeburgh

….and after turning right onto Victoria Road, the attractive Mill Inn. Everything in this town is in good repair and well looked-after.

the Mill Inn, Aldeburgh

Between the end of Victoria Road and the expanse of shingle beach is Aldeburgh’s impressive Moot Hall.

Moot Hall

The Moot Hall is a timber framed building with brick nogging (I have learned a new word), a gabled roof and an overhanging upper floor, supported by intricately carved brackets. It dates from the first half of the 16th century and could not look more Tudor. The ground floor porch and windows have been restored, but still reflect this period.

Aldeburgh Moot Hall

Originally, Aldeburgh’s town hall, it has served as a meeting place for the borough council, municipal offices and a jail. It is now the home of Aldeburgh Museum, which does not open in the mornings, so we will return in the afternoon.

Snooks

We briefly sheltered from the rain before moving on to the boating lake, overlooked by a statue of Snooks, the dog of popular husband and wife doctors Robin and Nora Acheson. They came to Aldeburgh 1931 and Snoops joined the practice in 1943. Snooks and Dr Robin both died in 1959 while Dr Nora continued practising here until her death in 1981. The statue, unveiled in 1961, is the work of Gwynneth Holt. It commemorates the service of the two doctors, but also Snooks who sometimes went on house calls and was for many years an integral part of the team.

Snooks

The statue was stolen in 2003, this is a replica casting. In 2013 the original was found and now stands in the garden of the Community Hospital the Acheson’s helped found. Some citizens have been concerned for Snooks welfare and he was wearing a bonnet on this cool summer’s day. In winter he has various coats and scarves to ward off the chill.

The Fish Shacks

Aldeburgh’s origins are in fishing. That industry has declined but a few boats still unload their catch on the shingle beach. From the Moot Hall northwards, the path passes a series of sheds perched on the edge of the shingle.

Fish shacks, Aldeburgh

This is where to go to buy the finest and freshest of fish….

An Aldeburgh fish shack

…. or, for a change smoked fish.

Smoked fish shack

It might look like a line of shacks; indeed, it is a line shacks, but even when bought in a shack, fish of this quality and freshness can never be cheap. This was the first of our visits to the fish shacks, what we bought and what made of it is covered in a separate post called Eating Aldeburgh.

We returned home with our purchases and one of them became a light lunch.

A More Purposeful Afternoon

Aldeburgh Museum

In the afternoon we returned to the Moot Hall, climbed the stairs and were warmly welcomed by the enthusiast who took our small fee. He would never have believed it when he was young, he told us, but in mature years he felt delighted and privileged to volunteer in such an excellent local museum.

Too much was packed into one room to cover everything, but here are some highlights.

The Roof of the Moot Hall is one of those roofs that Tudor carpenters could throw up without drawings and with precious little measuring,

The roof of the Moot Hall

The History of the Coastline is told in maps. I have been unable to find the equivalent on-line, but here is a picture of the current coastline.

Aldeburgh and Orford Ness (Map from Bing, copyright TomTom)

The River Alde almost reaches the sea south off Aldeburgh, but longshore drift has created a spit, known as Orford Ness, which means the river must travel a further 10 miles to find the sea. It was not always thus, and it will be different in the future; there are places where the coastline is (literally) set in stone, but much of England’s east coast it surprisingly mobile.

In Roman times the River Alde emptied straight into the sea and the coast was 3km east of its present position. When the Normans arrived the North Sea was slightly wider and longshore drift had started to develop what would become Orford Ness. By the 16th century Orford harbour was in decline, but a new harbour was developing at Slaughden between Aldeburgh and Orford (the village is not on modern maps). Since then, the streets and houses seaward of the Moot Hall have been claimed by the sea, as has the village of Slaughden, and its harbour

They have a 14th Century Chest with three locks, so all three keyholders had to be present to open it. It would probably have held parish documents and other items of value. Whisper it quietly, but Newton Abbot Museum in Devon has a chest with eight locks!

14th century chest, Aldeburgh Museum

Matthew Hopkins. 1645 was a difficult year. Taxes were high, disease was rampant, the harvest had failed and pirates plagued the Suffolk coast. Clearly Aldeburgh was beset by witches. In December, they called in Matthew Hopkins, the self-styled Witchfinder General. His investigation led to the arrest of seven, elderly and vulnerable women. They were imprisoned in the Moot Hall jail, the remains of which can be seen outside the building.

The remains of the prison at the back of the Moot Hall, Aldeburgh

They were given no food and watched see if their familiar spirits came to feed them and so prove their guilt. No spirits came, but if you leave people without food in an unheated prison in the middle of winter, they will do anything to get out. Seven self-confessed witches were subsequently hanged in February 1646. This did nothing to improve Aldeburgh’s situation, but it did provide Matthew Hopkins with a fat fee. It was not the town’s proudest moment.

Newson and Louisa Garrett and their Offspring. Newson Garrett (1812-93) was a prosperous businessman providing malted barley to the brewers of Suffolk from his maltings at Snape near Aldeburgh. He married Louisa Dunnell and they had 11 children, 8 surviving into adulthood. He was mayor of Aldeburgh 1889-90. Aldeburgh has had mayors since 1527, but he was the first to have an official mugshot.

Newson Garret, top left

So far, so unremarkable among the Victorian bourgeoisie, and it is no surprise that the photograph also includes the Garrett’s youngest son George (mayor 1898-1901 and 1906).

The next photo (almost) includes their son-in-law James Anderson, (1893-4 and 1906), and, right in the centre, their daughter (and by then widow of the son-in-law), Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, not just Aldeburgh’s, but Britain’s first female mayor.

Elizabeth Garrett Anderson as mayor of Aldeburgh

But that was the least of her achievements, she was also the first woman in Britain to qualify as a doctor. Her formal education was sketchy and involved no mathematics or science (not girl’s subjects) and there was no existing route into the medical profession for women. Her long and ultimately successful battle against the establishment was won because she was outstandingly able – when permitted to enter examinations, she consistently achieved the top mark - and phenomenally persistent.

Given the strictures of the age, she remarkably found time to marry and have a family. Her daughter Louisa qualified as a doctor and became Britain’s first female surgeon.

Elizabeth Garrett Anderson was one of the most important women of her generation, incredibly, the same can be said of one of her sisters.

Millicent, eleven years Elizabeth’s junior, is better known by her married name, Millicent Fawcett. From 1897-1919 she led the National Union of Women's Suffrage Societies and worked for women’s higher education, as a governor of Bedford College, London and co-founder of Newnham College, Cambridge. She was instrumental in introducing the 1918 Representation of the People Act giving votes to women over 30 (subject to some restrictions).

One hundred years later Millicent Fawcett was the first women to be honoured with a statue in Parliament Square - now, why did that take so long?

Millicent Fawcett, statue by Gillian wearing, Photo; Garry Knight (Public Domain)

Roman Finds. Downstairs as we left, we passed a case containing a copper alloy head, a sword, some lamps, a spoon and other local Roman finds.

Roman finds, Aldeburgh museum

The Scallop

From the Moot Hall, we walked up past the fish shacks towards the Scallop.

Apparently growing organically from the shingle beech, The Scallop was installed in 2003 as a tribute to composer and long-time Aldeburgh resident Benjamin Britten. Crafted from stainless steel by Maggi Hambling, the open scallop shell stands some 4 meters high.

The Scallop, Aldeburgh

Walking round the back allows you to read the inscription and appreciate the weathering of the steel and the part-abstract nature of the work.

The Scallop, rear view. I have turned the camera for the inscription, the sea at Aldeburgh is not really on a slope!

‘I hear those voices that will not be drowned’ is from Montagu Slater’s libretto to Peter Grimes, Britten’s best-known opera. The opera which premiered in 1945 is based on a poem from The Borough a collection published by local poet George Crabbe in 1810.

Set in an English fishing village the opera explores themes of judgment, isolation, and human frailty, set against the backdrop of the sea which Britten's music makes a character in its own right.

Maggi Hambling’s sculptures are often controversial and The Scallop is no exception. Some locals love it, some object to the way it alters the natural landscape of the beach, some just object to it. Whatever your view, it is undeniable that visitors to Suffolk do come to see it (yes, we did.)

The Church of St Peter and St Paul, Aldeburgh

Walking back into town we detoured to the parish church of St Peter and St Paul. I failed to photograph the outside where a stumpy tower presides over a low, wide building, originally 14th century but much altered over the centuries. The large windows mean the interior is well lit.

Inside Aldeburgh Parish Church

The font is an excellent example of 15th-century Perpendicular Gothic style with the traditional octagonal shape.

The font, Aldeburgh Parish Church

Unwanted attention from the Puritans means that much of the font's carving was damaged in the 17th century.

Defaced Angel on the font

The impressive carved oak pulpit may be late medieval or early post-Reformation.

Pupit, Aldeburgh parish church

There are memorials to Elizabeth Garret Anderson,….

Elizabeth Garrett Anderson Memorial, Aldeburgh Parish Church

….Benjamin Britten, in the form of a stained-glass window by John Piper (1903-92), best known for the huge Baptistry Window in Coventry Cathedral. Three sections depict Britten’s settings of The Prodigal Son (1968), The Curlew River (1964) from a Japanese Noh play and The Burning Fiery Furnace (1966)

John Piper's Benjamin Britten memorial, Aldeburgh

…and poet George Crabbe, who is now hardly remembered, but whose work inspired Britten.

George Crabbe memorial, Aldeburgh Parish Church

St Peter and St Paul Graveyard

Many of the Garrett family, including Elizabeth, are buried in the churchyard, ….

The Garrett family plot, Aldeburgh Parish Church

…as is Benjamin Britten, the most important British composer of the middle and later 20th century. Born in Lowestoft, he moved to Snape after retuning from America in 1942 and shortly afterwards to Aldeburgh where he stayed until his death in 1976. He founded the Aldeburgh Festival which has been held annually since 1948.

Benjamin Britten, Aldeburgh Parish Church

Peter Pears was a singer and Britten’s professional and personal partner from 1937 until Britten’s death. Although homosexual activity was illegal until 1968, Britten and Pears relationship was an open secret. Provided they behaved in public, nobody seemed to mind.

Peter Pears

Imogen Holst was the daughter of composer Gustav Holst, who was more English than his name suggests. She never married and dedicated her life first to her father’s musical legacy and then to assisting Benjamin Britten. She was co-director of the Aldeburgh Festival from 1956-77. Since the early 1960s the main auditorium for the festival has been the Snape Maltings, once owned by Newson Garrett.

Imogen Holst, Aldeburgh Parish Church

And so ends the first post from Aldeburgh

Aldeburgh and Around

Part 1: Strollng Round Town
Eating Aldeburgh

and much more to come