6. Thetford Forest
C&CC Site
16th-17^th March

40 miles south-west down the A140 and A11 from Cromer, this is a lovely site in a clearing in the forest, which seems to belong to the Forestry Commission. This area is called “The Brecklands”, an area which spans 392 sq. miles/1015 sq. kilometres across Norfolk and Suffolk. It's one of the driest parts of Britain, a landscape of tranquil forest, mainly of Scots pine, gorse-covered heathland and agricultural land and is home to many unique or distinctive birds, plants and animals. Sunday was a warm, sunny day and after arriving at 12:30 I awarded myself half a day off to sit outside the van reading.

On Monday, I cycled into Thetford, about 8 miles, to get my shopping and to explore. I saw my first primroses of the year beside the road, always a uplifting sight. One reason for coming to Thetford was that it was used by the BBC to represent Walmington-on-Sea when they filmed “Dad's Army” and the surrounding Thetford Forest was used for the outdoor scenes. Another reason was that the toilet in the van is a “Thetford” and I wanted to honour it by visiting its home town. In fact, as I discovered later, the Thetford company has nothing to do with Thetford and comes from Ann Arbor, Michigan. Do your research first next time, Rog.

The town, of about 20,000 inhabitants, is quite a mixture, with pleasant narrow main streets, many attractive houses and buildings and a fine little Guildhall. The river Thet goes through the town and is very picturesque, with nice bridges and promenades. It looks almost more like a canal than a river. Sadly, something terrible happened in 1968. By the river, and at the bottom of the main street, is a monstrous concrete, 2 storey shopping centre called “Riverside”. Many of the shops are now closed and the open ones are not from the top drawer. The whole thing, overlooking such a beautiful river, is so horrifying that I was amazed to see a huge brass plaque celebrating its unveiling. Norwich Union Insurance and Lloyd’s Bank were the guilty partners in the development and, of course, Thetford Council got in on the act. Someone should tell these people; when you do something truly reprehensible, issue a flat denial or blame it on someone else; don't erect a plaque boasting about it.

 

    

                        Look - no bicycle tyre                                               Tom Paine

                                       

Thetford was the birthplace of Tom Paine, the first English trendy leftie. After taking up a post as an excise officer in Lewes (going round the pubs, dipping their beer barrels to check the strength of the beer, a bit like I used to do) he went a bit Tony Benn and had to leave the country for the New World. For services to the American Revolution he was given a farm in New York State and had a few nice peaceful years. Then the French became even more revolting than usual and he went to France to support them, writing his most famous polemic “The Rights of Man”. (He didn't ever, incidentally, get round to writing its sequel, “The Duties of Man”, which would have covered things like “don't spit in the street”, “don't mug blind pensioners”, “don't organise dog fights” and “don't jump queues”.) 

There's an imposing bronze of Paine outside the parish church. I would have taken a photo, but forgot to pack my camera this morning. Someone had hung a bicycle tyre round his neck. He should have stayed in France; at least they know how to have a revolution.

I subsequently learned from a friend in Ireland that Jeyes Fluid is made in Thetford. This is a wonder product and is the best cure for athlete's foot. Just dissolve a capful in a bowl of hot water and soak the feet. Itching gone! Miracle.

Strangely, Paine's grave site is unknown. He was originally buried in New York State, but William Cobbold, who did rural rides, disinterred him and brought his bones back to Britain as part of a campaign to re-legitimise him. Cobbold then promptly lost the bones!

A disaster of almost equal magnitude struck me on the way back. I took the wrong turn leaving Tesco and rode for 3 miles before realising that this road wasn't the one I had travelled the opposite way. I took the momentous decision not to turn back and six miles later was still pedalling, having seen not a single turning going in the direction I needed. In the end, I cycled a giant circle and, instead of 16 miles, cycled 25, 17 of them with both panniers heavily-laden with my food shopping. Now, someone I know will testify that one of my sayings is “Never go on a journey without a map”. Now I know why I always say it. The biter bit. Went to bed when I got home.