7. Fishtoft
Private site
18th-19^th March

Yes, really, Fishtoft; it's just outside Boston. I decided to come here because it was a convenient stop on my way to my next significant visit, Lincoln.

I was a bit apprehensive as I had heard quite a few depressing things about Boston; the highest proportion of immigrants in the population in Britain (25%) (mostly eastern European and Portuguese); the highest proportion of clinically obese people in the country (one third of the population); the football club cooking the books; the town council (previously Labour) taken over by in its entirety by a one-issue party – The By-Pass for Boston Party (pity we don't have a Tea Party).

Luckily, I had a chat with a nice old Aussie-sounding bloke at Cromer. He was born and bred in Boston, went to Australia where he served in the Australian Navy for 35 years then returned to Boston (to see if anything had happened while he was away, presumably). He told me about famous Bostonians. George Bass who explored Australia and named the Bass Strait, Sir Joseph Banks, the naturalist who sailed with Captain Cook, Sir John Franklin, who explored Australia, survived Trafalgar and died when ice-bound on the Erebus while trying to find the North-West Passage and Matthew Flinders, who explored Australia and after whom the Flinders Range and Flinders University are named. He didn't tell me that John Motson(“Motty”) is from Boston.

He did, however, tell me about the Pilgrim Fathers. Fleeing religious persecution, in 1607 they tried to escape from Boston to the Netherlands. They were betrayed to the militia by the ship's captain and were imprisoned in the Guildhall in the town. The charge was leaving the country without the permission of the King (James I). They were released on bail and scarpered, eventually boarding The Mayflower at Plymouth after twelve years in the Netherlands. In those days they got excited about people leaving the country illegally.



Boston Stump from the Haven

The site, also, is a plus for Boston. It's basically in someone's back garden with only about 10 pitches, each one enclosed by a 6-foot high conifer hedge and not numbered but named after birds. I'm in “Wren”. Nice and cosy. The bus to town stops outside the front gate every half-hour, the last one back at 17:15, so I won't be tempted to sample the fleshpots of Boston.

The drive up from Thetford (75 miles) was pretty uneventful. After I left Brecklands, the countryside became very flat and the fields bigger and bigger and the hedges and trees fewer and fewer. Here, if you live in one village you can see the people in the next village putting their washing out. Churches are about the only landmarks. At Sutton, though, south of King's Lynn, is a smashing swing bridge over the Great Ouse. After that it's pretty boring, apart from a few fields of daffodils in bloom. The Boston Stump (the tower of St. Botolph's Church in the town) is, as they say, visible from a distance. Apparently from the top you can see Lincoln Cathedral, about 35 miles away. Shall I climb to the top tomorrow? See how the old legs feel. They seem to have survived the bike ride yesterday; in fact, no ill effects at all. Must get lost more often. 

I had expected to see gangs of European migrant workers toiling in the fields and singing Negro spirituals. Of course, it's the wrong time of year. Now, it's ploughing, harrowing and sowing, and all this can be done by one man and a John Deere. They've probably all been laid-off and have signed-on now until the season starts. No problem; the taxpayer will stump-up to save the millionaire farmers from having to pay their idle time.

Talking of millionaire farmers; I can see the ergonomic justification for grubbing-out the hedgerows between the fields to create vast, more efficient fields, but why destroy the hedges and trees lining the roads? If there weren't so many eastern Europeans here we wouldn't need to grow so many cabbages anyway.

Well, my trip to Boston was a real treat. It has two huge market places, joined by a narrow street, an impressive waterway, the Haven, through the middle and loads of very old streets and alleyways. It also has its own docks (I drove into them by mistake) and the Maud Foster Drain, another waterway on the eastern outskirts which looks just like a canal in Amsterdam and which has a working 5-sail windmill on it bank. Imagine having a drain named after you. Fame or what? At the landward end the Haven is stopped by the Great Sluice and turns into a very nice marina, thank you very much. There were two markets on the go and in the one in Wide Bargate there was a Dutch auction of assorted bric-a-brac and tat. I stopped myself from buying a set of Rosemary Conley scales for £1. According to the auctioneer they really worked. I had a delicious hot sausage roll in Shepherd's Bakers - “baking on this site for over 100 years” - where loads of old codgers were out the back tucking into a huge roast – on a Wednesday morning! I am now officially cured of my addiction to Gregg's sausage rolls, but where will I find another Shepherd's? Down a narrow alley I saw a pub sign for “The Indian Queen and Three Kings”. Intrigued by its name I investigated and the sign outside saying “Victorian Pub” clinched it. I managed to resist a pint of Bateman's XP and pushed the boat out with an orange juice and lemonade. The barman explained the name. Originally known as the Three Kings of Cologne, the pub has been rebuilt and renamed at least three times and is thought to be the oldest in Boston. The Three Kings of Cologne are better known to us as the Three Kings, as in “of orient are”; The Three Wise Men or Magi. The Shrine of the Three Kings is in Cologne Cathedral and is said to contain their bones. In the late Middle Ages Cologne was a major centre in the Hanseatic League with substantial trade with England. Boston was a port with a Hansa trading post. So merchants from Cologne would have been familiar in Boston. The old pub sign gave rise to the nickname “The Three Merry Devils” and was changed, in Puritan times, to “The Indian Queen”, referring to Pocahontas who supposedly saved the life of Sir John Smith, the Lincolnshire-born explorer. She married John Rolfe from nearby Heacham and used to pop in here for a pint and a game of darts (just kidding).

I went into St. Botolph's and snapped the Stump from inside, but strangely enough it doesn't look as tall close-to as it does from 20 miles away. It's what's known as a calendar church, because the roof is supported by 12 pillars, there are 52 windows, 7 doors and 365 steps up to the top of the tower, 24 steps to the library and 60 to the roof. I decided not to climb the Stump after learning there were 365 steps. After all, the view would just have been fields of cabbages anyway.

I remember watching Boston United with Nick Hallett in a horrible pub in Sydenham. I don't know why I did it, but I expect Nick made me. Boston were a fine big agricultural side (their playing style was called “The Boston Lump”) and were made to look even bigger by their strip – black and amber stripes, black shorts and black socks. A strip like that terrifies the opposition and is worth a goal start. (I'm convinced that their black and white stripes have kept Newcastle in the Premiership). I also remember Horsham Ramblers had an identical kit in the late 'Sixties. The trouble was that the shirts numbered 2 to 6 were huge and those numbered 7 to 11 were tiny. As a result, our big players wore defenders' shirts and our small players wore forwards' shirts. This had the advantage of confusing our opponents, because it was in the days before the Dutch invented total football. Our opponents were, therefore, both terrified and confused by us and it was no surprise when we were promoted. Well, of course, I was player-manager as well, but I won't mention that.

 

Until recently, Jason Lee was manager of Boston United; he used to have a pineapple on his head. Their ground is The Jakeman's Stadium, named after Jakeman's, the famous cough sweets made in Boston since 1907. These are the greatest cough sweets ever made and are available from Boot's for 60p a bag. This is not an advertisement, just my personal opinion.

The town definitely has the highest pub count I have seen so far on my travels. There were loads of really damaged looking people around and lots of fatties, but not that many and I think King's Lynn should demand a recount. OK it was Wednesday lunchtime and not 11:00 on a Saturday night, but the atmosphere was pleasant and relaxed and people I talked to were really friendly. I really liked it here. I was disappointed, though, that I didn't see a Boston Terrier.