Bertie Goes to Bungay

Only one’s closest friends welcome Bertie as an overnight guest. This is his fourth time away, and two of the previous stays were in France. So far, it has gone well.

There are hens, peacocks, pheasants, partridges, ducks, rheas and a seventeen-year-old cat – all distracting for an inquisitive beagle. But there’s Plum who is Berties NBF (new best friend); the Wodehousian connection will not have escaped you. Plum’s lineage is complex but she is mostly Labrador and collie with a splash of pointer. She has taught Bertie not to sit on the sofa.

Yesterday we went to Bungay for a two-hour walk before lunch and the scampering and sniffing were of epic proportions. The small market town of Bungay is dripping in history. Bertie was king of the Norman castle.

The town is interesting architecturally as it has evolved over more than a thousand years and there are medieval houses next door to Georgian and Victorian. It makes for a visually satisfying hotch-potch. We had lunch at The Fleece Inn at the patron’s table, as it happens – good menu and wine list and Suffolk prices are about half London, although I was treated by the patron so I shouldn’t have looked.

The elegant Buttercross was built in 1689 and was a farmers’ market selling butter and other produce. Behind it is the tower of St Mary’s, built in the 14th or 15th century – nobody can remember. Curiously they remember a spooky event in August 1577.

“The church was struck by lightning on Sunday, 4 August 1577. During the thunderstorm an apparition appeared, consisting of a black Hell Hound which dashed around the church, attacking members of the congregation. It then suddenly disappeared and re-appeared in Holy Trinity Church, Blythburgh 12 miles (19 km) away, injuring members of the congregation there. The dog has been associated with Black Shuck, a dog haunting the coasts of Norfolk, Essex and Suffolk. An image of the Black Dog has been incorporated in the coat of arms of Bungay, and has been used in the titles of various enterprises associated with Bungay.“ (Wikipedia)

I think Plum should be on his best behaviour and hope his white paws distinguish him from Black Shuck. The legend, incidentally, reminds me of the Essex Serpent.

Since the wool trade declined and the station closed to passengers in 1953, Bungay has become a tranquil backwater with lots of good walking and not many hills which suits me these days.