Homelessness is a complex issue, and there are so many reasons why someone might find themselves without anywhere to live. But we live in a rich country and I can’t help thinking that the scourge of homelessness is worse than it needs to be. I’m not given to petty envy. I’ve nothing against the wealthy as long as their wealth has been honestly acquired and they pay their dues instead of squirrelling it away in various tax havens. As for tax dodging billionaires, how much money can any one person possibly spend on themselves in a lifetime? As Francis Bacon – the 17th-century former Chancellor of England, not the famous artist – allegedly said:
“Money is like muck, no good except it be spread.”
But, more positively, there is help available to those who both need and seek it, at least there is in Norwich. I recently picked up this Pathways Norwich signposting leaflet.
Is it enough? Is it ever? Sleeping rough must be tough at any time of year. Imagine how much rougher and tougher it gets as winter cloaks the streets. I know Christmas can be expensive and many people struggle to pay the bills but, buddy, if you can spare a dime, please do.
Whatever Christmas means to you, wishing you and yours a warm, dry and peaceful yuletide.
Our nephew Tom entered an amateur boxing competition for charity in honour of his grandmother – my mother – who died of cancer last year. And, of course, we had to be there for moral support and to eye up the sweaty men in silky shorts. The venue was the famous Troxy, a gorgeous art deco former cinema in London’s East End. First opened in 1933, it dodged the bombs during the Blitz when much around it was flattened by the Luftwaffe. Down the decades, the venue has been reincarnated several times and now provides a multipurpose home for an eclectic mix of weird and wonderful events.
It’s also pretty rainbow-friendly. As they say on their website…
In 2019 Troxy cemented its reputation as one of the flagship venues for LGBTQ+ led events. With a superb track record welcoming clients such as Sink The Pink, Ru Paul’s Drag Race and London Gay Men’s Chorus to name a few, Troxy worked hard to create a respectful and welcoming environment for everyone, ensuring that no one is subject to discrimination or harassment of any kind. All staff at the venue are highly trained to create a fully inclusive customer experience, from sensitive security searches to the use of gender neutral pronouns.
We met up with the family in a little hostelry called The Old Ship, a traditional East End boozer which also happens to be a local gay bar serving up drag with the real ales. The pub was full of pre-bout punters mingling with the afternoon regulars. Liam and I hadn’t supped there for twenty years or more, and it was wonderful to see it still thriving while so many others have fallen by the wayside.
Fight club was a suited and booted affair – no tie, no entry – and we were dressed up to the nines to match the rowdy crowd in their best wedding weaves. Chewing gum was banned. “Because it sticks to the carpet – worse than guns,” said the burly bouncer. Enough said.
The scene was set. It was a very butch do; you could almost taste the testosterone. Some bloke in a cheap suit was running a book from the men’s loo and we fully expected local gangster types to muscle in on the action. In fact, it was all good-humoured, despite the full-flowing booze and high spirits. Mind you, the debauchery going down in the orchestra pit looked like the last days of Rome.
The moment came for Tom to step into the ring. His opponent was huge. His mother looked worried. We all did.
Once the big fella threw a few punches, the ref stopped the fight. We were relieved but really proud of Tom. He gave it a go and raised a few farthings into the bargain. All’s well that ends quickly and with pretty-boy face still in one piece.
With energy costs and inflation as they are, for many, going under is the new gettingby. This year, Christmas will be particularly tough. Village people hereabouts know how it is and don’t just stand idly by. From free Christmas hampers to the recently opened Chet Valley Community Larder, help is on hand for those struggling to put food on the table. It really gladdens the soul. It’s all amazing but the larder is particularly innovative. Run by volunteers and supported by Loddon and Chedgrave Parish Councils, Chet Valley Churches and Loddon Co-Op, the larder is based at Loddon Library. People can pop along to give what they can and take what they need; no forms, no fuss and no questions asked.
Over the past decade Norwich has seen an invasion of psychedelic mountain gorillas, a parade of glittery elephants, the flight of the camp dragons, a husk of vivid hares, a swarm of big bugs and a hungry group of dazzling dinosaurs. This year, the T-Rexes are back with a vengeance to sink their claws and jaws into a herd of steppe mammoths – all in aid of Break, a charity supporting children in care. A round of applause, please. Let’s not worry too much that the hunters and the hunted roamed the Earth at entirely different times, separated by millions of years. It’s just a bit of fun for the bored kiddies during the summer holidays.
Most of the proto-jumbos with their oversized tusks are more county than town, dotted about various corners of Norfolk, so I thought I’d never spot one grazing in Norwich. I made do with snapping a small selection of the dapper dinos in their flashy finery instead.
Dapper Dinos!
But then I spotted this handsome beast clad in metal nuts at the entrance to St Mary’s Works. The old shoe factory is now the venue for Norwich’s uber-trendy Junkyard Market serving up street grub and fruity cocktails to a youthful crowd of beards and tattoos. We were there to celebrate a village boy’s 40th.
The sun was setting on a scorching day, and Metal Mammoth was glowing in the twilight, hot and sticky to the touch.
I first posted this way back in February 2020 but then COVID-19 took centre stage and the rest, as they say…
Two years down the line and my brother-in-law will soon be on the road, walking coast to coast across Ireland. He’s bought a stout pair of walking boots, the rucksack’s fit to bursting and he’s ready to roll. I hope he’s packed a bottle of whiskey and a brolly too. He’ll need both. I know times are hard and bills are rising but if you can spare a few pennies, that would be really something. Click the image to find out how.
I’m constantly surprised by the milk of human kindness. Right across Europe the humanitarian crisis created by Tsar Putin’s invasion of Ukraine seems to have struck a chord and the response has been phenomenal. Even in this obscure little corner of our green and pleasant land, people have stepped up to the plate with gifts of cash and essentials, and offers of a roof to refugees – if and when slippery BoJo’s feckless government gets its collective finger out. Local people hereabouts have even driven trucks loaded with supplies all the way to the Polish-Ukrainian border – a distance of over 1,300 miles. Incredible.
Images courtesy of Ukraine Loddon & Chedgrave Support
I’m also constantly surprised by the lack of human kindness, but that’s a post for another time.
It’s been a pretty dismal summer, weather-wise. The shortest of heatwaves in June, a washed-out July and a blanket of low cloud for most of August. Still, we didn’t suffer the death and devastation of flash floods, wilting temperatures and rampant wildfires that afflicted Turkey and much of continental Europe so I guess we should count our lucky stars. And who needs the sun anyway when the streets of Norwich are lit up by brightly coloured dinosaurs?
Over the last few years we’ve had an invasion of psychedelic gorillas, a parade of glittery elephants, the flight of the camp dragons, a husk of vivid hares and a swarm of big bugs. Now it’s the turn of dazzling dinosaurs on the Go Go Discover T Rex Trail inspired by the arrival in Norwich Cathedral of Dippy, the Natural History Museum’s iconic Diplodocus cast. It’s the final gig of his nationwide tour.
Twenty-one individually designed T Rex sculptures meander through the centre of the city as a guided route to the Cathedral – just in time for school’s out for Summer. If God can’t tempt the kids into church come Sunday, Dippy surely will.
Here’s a small sample. I guess my favourite ought to be the rainbow T Rex stomping all over Millennium Plain but actually it’s Sherlock on Cathedral Close that gets my vote.
As usual, the trail is all in aid of Break, a charity providing support to young people in care. They’ve also covered Cambridge in a herd of colourful cows. That’s a lot of painted udders.
It was hotter than Havana the day a paddling of technicolor plastic ducks floated into town for the Grand Norwich Duck Race on the River Wensum – a plucky contest held every year for charity. As usual, the competition for the most outrageous outfit was fierce with the over-sized over-the-top bath tub toys lined up like a beauty pageant, vying for votes. My personal favourite was the pretty in pink flamingo impersonator. All style over substance, I suspected. The long luscious legs were more suitable for wading than for swimming. The ducks race along the short distance between St George’s and Fye Bridges. I say ‘race’ in the loosest sense of the word. It’s always more an aimless drift as the waters of the genteel Wensum flow at a lazy, almost stationary pace. We placed a small wager on some random duck. We didn’t win and retired to a local watering hole to drown our sorrows.
Come Christmas time, the patients at the surgery where Liam earns an honest crust are a generous lot. Gifts of biscuits, sweets, chocolates and the odd bottle of booze flood in. Liam comes home laden with festive fancies. We keep a few and donate the rest to St Stephen’s Church. It’s an ancient pile, founded over 900 years ago and now mostly dating from the sixteenth century. The roots might be old but the approach of the dedicated team of clerics and laypeople is bang up-to-date. Community engagement and outreach are the services of the day. Much of the nave is given over to a café which…
‘… provides an open place for people to belong, whether customers, volunteers or those experiencing tough times… the café is a place of welcome, refreshment and peace.’
It’s a Heaven-sent distraction from the hubbub outside and operates a ‘pay what you can’ policy where punters can pay the suggested price, more, less or nothing at all. The church also runs a seasonal food bank for those in need. When we dropped off the Quality Street, Fox’s luxury selection and Ferrero Rocher, I apologised for only bringing sweets and biscuits. A lady with a kindly face replied…
‘Everyone deserves something nice for Christmas, don’t they?’
It was a humbling experience. I’m not religious in the slightest but if this is what the love of God means, then long may it continue.
Following the flight of camp dragons, the parade of vivid jumbos and the troupe of panto gorillas in our midst comes an assortment of big-eared, bright-eyed leporids. A magnificent drove of florescent hares has hopped onto plinths across Norwich (and further afield too) to delight both the young and the young at heart. Come the summer holidays we’re expecting sweaty legions of overwrought kiddies and their overheating parents to follow the harey trail, all for Break, a charity that has been helping children in care for 50 years. Happy golden birthday to Break.
You can find out more about the hares and their worthy cause here. The sculptures with their stunning pelts will be on display until 8th September, after which they’ll be auctioned off for some much-needed cash. So it’s not a hare today gone tomorrow exhibition. Groan.
Perking the Pansies 