 |
| notes & pictures - story 3 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A little further
south, the painter Gainsborough enjoyed Suffolk with its
coloured air but it was Turner who influenced the landscape
writing of Thomas Hardy in the West Country. He called
Turner's works 'light modified by objects'. His feelings
for Egdon Heath were putrified by the swamp, a haunting
English vision that offered the opposite of hope. There,
unlike here, is a more vengeful sky sweeping down from
the moors. I wonder what Turner would have made of Hardy's
heroine Eustacia Vye? But understanding what it is to
be a settler here has to have some historical context.
In Northumbria, around 700AD, the Venerable Bede wrote
about a scarcely populated and poorly cultivated wasteland.
The England of the Angles and Saxons was one of cold isolation
of a large land inhabited by few.
Here in Norfolk, light close to the sea under big skies
is of the highest quality, it sends out signals of brightness
and possibility. Yet sitting under the menace of a storm
building, the light tires in the afternoon, concurring
with some melancholic sense of temporality and warm air.
It is also a light that preens itself, like the paintings,
taking on the texture of a canvas of dark cloud, and in
such a way, the beauty of Norfolk has been exhaled for
a thousand years.
Around here the roads do not have a lot of traffic. Sometimes
you can open the throttle and take a corner by the scruff
of its neck. By holding onto the handlebars and committing
yourself to the apex, this bike will keep you on your
seat until it is safe to straighten up. The man at the
art gallery suggests I take afternoon tea up the road
so I ride to Wiveton Hall Fruit Farm where, in a wooden
café, nice girls serve salami with goats' cheese
on a chilli jam sandwich with brown or white bread. There
is also basil and chive pancakes filled with spinach and
ricotta beautifully baked in cream and Parmesan sauce.
Or, instead, how about a gougère pastry filled
with asparagus, crème fraîche along with
chives served with salad? Sometimes, anything's better
than chips!
I park my bike by the window. It is such a magnificent
machine made more so against this backdrop of frippery.
Yes, it is all very nice, this little trip around the
coast of Britain. It is a Kingdom of Quaint Things just
here, but I wonder when it will turn into a Kingdom of
Rust? |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
