Norwich and Nelson

Spent the last few days in Norwich with James and Sioux (and John, of course). Lovely to see them after so long. Sioux started telling my about her day at school - apparently there was an incident when a group of 14-year-olds started beating up an old lady in front of the school gates. A passing motorist tried to intervene, and when the teachers and police finally arrived, the motorist was lying on the ground being kicked in the head and ribs.

Ahh, kids. They're so sweet.

The school decided that since the incident happened in front of the gates, it wasn't technically on their property, so they could safely wash their hands of any responsibility. The police likewise declined to act against the kids in any way, on the grounds that they were too young.

Anyway, J&S&J were all very well, and Norwich proved itself to bea lovely town, although James assures me that it really comes into its own in summer. A bit cold, and it snowed most of the time I was there.

The main cathedral - for there is also an RC one, built more recently - is a spectacular Norman edifice in the middle of town, and has been very well maintained over the past thousand-odd years of its existence. (Another anecdote from Sioux - when she suggested the idea of going to see the cathedral to her class, some students asked where it was. This despite the presence of a hundred-metre-tall spire sticking out of its roof. She told them that it was just across the street from the law courts, to which one child replied: "Oh! I know where that is. I go there all the time to see my Dad!" "Is he a lawyer?" asked Sioux. "No...")

I walked into town on Friday to see the building in more detail, and found that a guided tour had just started. So I went and caught up with them a few minutes in, and got a fascinating in-depth look at the place.

Like any building of that significance and age, it has a quirky and rich history. There are a number of highly irregular stone carvings in the walls, and a few oddly pagan decorations around the old cloister (for it was once attached to a monastery), and at this far remove it's difficult to say where all of them came from. Two-headed gods, monsters with human heads in their mouths, inanely smiling visages… mostly a mystery now. One such figure was at least identifiable – the “Green Man of Norwich”, depicted as a man’s face peering from behind a mask of leaves. Apparently this character has been traced to pre-Christian pagan legends, and is something like a cross between Puck and a Greek satyr.

It was also interesting to see the number of points where decorations had been destroyed - wilfully, not as a result of the passage of time - during the Puritan period of England's history. Saints beheaded, rich paintings obliterated with whitewash and occasionally things merely hidden from view: such as the wooden panel which serves as an altarpiece in one of the side chapels. The painting is extravagantly highlighted in gold and beautifully executed, but it was found when someone was sitting at a table having a meeting in one of the church offices. They dropped their pen under the table, bent down to collect it, and happened to look up... and were understandably staggered to see exactly what they had been resting their coffee cups on. Apparently the Puritans wanted it out of sight, but were too busy to destroy it completely (or possibly they were just short of tables).

Another intriguing bit of historical oddity was to be found at the very Eastern end of the cathedral, in a passageway which curves from the side walls past the sanctuary and behind the main altar and the bishop's throne. At the very furthest reach, there is a small recess in the wall, designed as a reliquary for the holy relics of a dead saint.

So far, nothing unusual. However, a flue rose up from the reliquary, and fed directly into a hole in the seat of the bishop's throne. The theory was, the "holy ethers" would rise up through this pipe and the bishop would be "inspired from below", as it were.

Speaking of Puritans, as we were driving through the town on Saturday, James pointed out a row of buildings which sit on top of the biggest pile of bones in Norwich. It is the site of the old burning ground – the place where heretics were burned to death after being excommunicated from the church. Really brought in the crowds.

In later centuries, the crowds would come for special “hanging holidays” – bring the whole family up for a week in Norwich to watch the public executions! The castle in Norwich was used as a gaol for many years, and those condemned of sufficiently heinous crimes would be executed in a grand spectacle which was advertised well in advance. The rich would get hotel rooms overlooking the execution place, while the less well-off would have to jostle for a good view in a throng of eager onlookers below.

On Saturday, James and I took a walk along the famous Norfolk Broads – no, not a derogatory term for the local girls, but rather a description of the wide river estuaries for which the region is noted. Very picturesque, but I’d imagine they’re better in summer when it’s not quite so cold and muddy.

Another of the big things in Norwich is Nelson – he was very much their favourite son – so it was fitting that on this, my first day back from that city, I went to visit him in Trafalgar Square. My destination was an extraordinary exhibition at the National Gallery entitled “Caravaggio: The Final Years”, which featured his major paintings from the time he fled Rome (to escape a death sentence for murder) until his death. Apart from the gorgeous paintings, it gave a unique look into his tortured genius, and gave the visitor an excellent understanding of the violent demons with which he contended all his life.

The rest of the gallery was as stunning as always: Turner, Rembrandt, Canaletto, da Vinci et al. were as strong and stirring as ever.

After the gallery, took a long walk down the Thames Embankment. As I passed Downing Street, there was a crowd of people gathered to watch two middle-aged men in super-hero costumes hanging onto a window ledge on the second storey of the Foreign Office building. I walked on, past Parliament, over Westminster Bridge, down the south bank of the Thames, and eventually wandered up past Buckingham Palace and St James Park. Bitterly cold, snowing and beautiful.