Tuesday, October 17, 2023

CHURCH LARKING - Salthouse Parish Church



Perched majestically atop a low escarpment that runs parallel to the marsh, dunes and line of the sea, St Nicholas Parish Church Salthouse, resembles in form a huge cruise liner constructed of knapped flint and faceted glass. The flint work is neat and well maintained, and maybe it needs to be. The church is left extremely exposed to the stormy wind and rain that batters this coastline. Particularly in the winter, when the cold of it all must really be penetrating.


Its a distinctive quality of many North Norfolk churches to have little, if any, stained glass. At Salthouse there is clear glass with pattern forming geometric leading. Creating an interior with a unique quality of well balanced, unobstructed light, even on a cloudy day. The nave and clerestory are pierced with long thin pairs of windows, topped with trefoil shaped headers. Further accentuating its considerable lofty height. A large Chancel window hovers over the altar with additional windows to the left and right of it providing sidelight. So the host is well lit. I suspect these are all Victorian reiterations of what.may have preceded them.

Both Nave and Chancel were completely rebuilt in the 15th Century, in the more minimalist Perpendicular, late Gothic style. This gives the church a uniformity of style and an interior space that possesses a wide and expansive openness. This is partly due to it having no rood screen in place. Though one would once have grandly divided the Chancel from the Nave in medieval times.




However, segments of that medieval rood screen have survived, and you will find base sections scattered around the church. Some in the Chancel, others as you enter by the font and entrance porch. These portray a mixture of saints and Old Testament prophets. All their faces gouged away during the iconoclasm of the Reformation. Though, in some, you can just about discern the symbolic insignia that they carry.



The church as it presents itself today was the creation of the wealthy Heydon Family. The intention originally was to also replace the tower. But the Civil War intervened and this plan was abandoned. So the form and style of what preceded the present church is indicated by the tower. Which has 13th century lancet and 14th century decorated windows inserted into largely a 12th century foundational structure. 



This is a 'mongrel' tower that has the appearance of being thrown together, with an off-centre deformed construction. One that required plentiful additions of buttresses to support it's increased height and, most importantly, the weight of the belfry. This also necessitated a side staircase being built to reach that belfry floor in its upper level. Yet despite all these necessary structural accretions, the mass of the old tower cannot quite match up to the rest of it. It is lacking in elegance or any elevating soaring quality. 



Salthouse has no separate chapels in its side aisles. So its ranks of pews spill over into it from the central nave area. These pews have particularly fine carved poppy heads on the ends of them. The roof overhead is a very simple and unfussy Perpendicular looking rib vault. 


Other things of note, are the remains a calligraphic wall inscription of religious verses from 1633, on the upper left wall to the side of the altar. To the right on the back of the Chancel's rood screen sections, are crudely incised drawings of fishing boats. Thought to have been executed by bored children, when the church was once in use as a school. 


Though still used regularly for services, the church is also an art exhibition space during the summer months. Making excellent use of the clear quality of its pure light and sparse aesthetic.



Monday, October 16, 2023

ART 'n' Ab ART - Colour Autumn Show

Alastair Grey

Bob Catchpole

Ulrike Behrendt


Earlier open exhibitions at Cromer Artspace were a very mixed bag in the skill and talents of those exhibiting. This years choice of a theme, rather than random submissions, makes the Autumn Open Show a much more coherent event. Plus the quality of the work has risen considerably, now that the Artspace is getting better known and renowned. So there was some quite striking and notable work on that theme of Colour on show.

Jennifer Lovatt

Charles Sharpe

Juliet Goodden

Clive Dunn


As ever with the curating of their exhibitions, it manages to show you a wide range of interpretations of how a feeling for colour can be expressed. So we have figurative, abstract, photographic, etchings, screen prints, collage and inevitably mixed media, plus things which are three dimensional utilising woven textile, leather, wood or glass. This was, yet another, really fine show, from this still relatively new art venue.
Polly Cruse

June Croll


Antonia Clare








SHERINGHAM DIARY No 94 - On Noli Di



We seem to return to Whitby at regular intervals, either as our holiday base, or on a day trip from somewhere close by. It's a relaxed and unpretentious place. With a lively sense of it's own history, literary connections, the natural drama of its harbour and coastline.


1st Day
Wandered around the Whitby streets, listened to an animated folk busker whilst we ate our cake and drank our coffee outside Marie Antoinette's Patisserie. With every hour the cobbled streets became positively heaving with day-trippers. Window shopped, noticed the new shops, revisted a few old favourites. Whitby maintains its mix of the positively trendy with the oldest of old school seaside trading, without any of it appearing anachronistic. On the surface, at least, it appears to be surviving well.


2nd Day
A day trip to Helmsley. A truly fabulous veggie breakfast at The Feather Trail Cafe, that set the day off very much on the right foot. Because we had an hours walk over hill and dale to the ruins of Reivaulx Abbey. A walk to anywhere is a more active way of taking part in the journey and arriving at a destination. We could have passively driven there in all of ten minutes.


I've been to Rievaulx countless times and never tire of it. Tucked away in a bend in the Rye valley, you can imagine how secluded and separated from society they were. Amongst this glorious landscape, that remains to this day so beautifully quiet and serene. 

What does change is the way information is imparted to the visitor. Audio guides have their uses, don't get me wrong here.The English Heritage ones at Rievaulx, with the avuncular local Brother Robert talking you around the ruins, I found particularly galling. Have a physical guide or if it must be recorded, let it be straightforwardly informative. None of this faux testimony from actors pretending to be people from the period, this is just insulting, to the point of infantilisation.

3rd Day
Short journey to Robin Hoods Bay with the idea of having breakfast there. Not a hope. But had the best coffee of the trip so far. The beans grown on a small holding run by three women in Brazil, imported and then roasted in Cornwall. Came back to Whitby, for brunch in Sanders Yard.  Visit the Museum? It's closed on Mondays. Had drinks and a cake in Sherlock's instead. In the evening I ate the largest Calzone I've ever had to stuff down the chute to my stomach. I mean, you couldn't fit it on the plate or the table straight. Gorgeous, but gorging.

4th Day
This morning felt weighed down by last nights excessive carbohydrate. Set off to Malton, the self proclaimed Food Capital of Yorkshire, which never, quite rightly, undersells itself. A fantastic Egg Florentine and coffee in Lutt & Turner. The taste sensation that is Florian Poirot's macarons. Found a couple of new fabrics for the shop. Nice food, nice drinks, nice interiors shops, nice warm day. 

Traveled back through Helmsley, to give the shops a proper look this time. Found a gorgeous art vase made by Anne-Marie Magson, for our lounge in a gallery called Saltbox. The weather today was so balmy we could comfortably sit outside in our short sleeved shirts and shorts.


5th Day
Stayed in Whitby all day. After having breakfast out, we ventured up the 199 steps to the headland. St Mary's Church, one of my all time favourite churches was closed for a school trip. So we romped around the site of Whitby Abbey instead. Not quite sufficiently dressed for the strong winds that were blowing. The colour and appearance of the Abbey changes with the weather. I was more aware this time of just how badly scoured by the weather it is.


In the afternoon we did The Whitby Museum and Art Gallery. The gallery is full of paintings by the men of the Staithes Group, the significant women noticeable by their absence. A lot of paintings in desperate need of a clean, if you ask me. 


The museum is celebrating 200 years, it's a remnant from a bygone era of eccentric collecters. My favourite exhibits, a Tempest Barometer which was a device using leeches to tell you if a storm was brewing.. And a Hand of Glory, the severed hand of a felon, which would be lit by a burglar to paralyse a houses inhabitants, whilst he ran off with the silver. In the evening we had a much more refined and tasty eating experience of Italian food at Cosa Nostra.


6th Day
A day trip to see the ruins of  Mount Grace Priory, something I've long wanted to visit. Once very isolated and tucked under the slope of a hillside. It now lives within hearing distance of the rumble if the A170. Its the only surviving Carthusian monastery sit in England. The monastics lived in smal semi isolated buildings. They are called cells but are really self contained houses with gardens. Great for a solitary retreat, but to.live in full time, I think most of us would find it a strain. The old gatehouse became an Arts & Crafts styled Manor House. This has seen better days and requires a bit more development.



We spent the afternoon in Saltburn on Sea, which, despite our feeling that it might have been decimated by the aftermath of the pandemic and cost of living crisis, is actually doing well. Lots of new interesting shops, cafes and restaurants. Used the funicular railway up the cliff from the beach for the first time. It's engineering from an entirely more optimistic and can do era. Saltburn appears always to have been a one off type of place.

Spent our last evening in Whitby eating chips with battered quorn sausages on the sea front, looking over to the harbour to the houses opposite and St Mary's on the headland above, in the fast paling evening light. Magical.


7th Day
A long journey home with breaks at Malton, Lincoln and Kings Lynn. It was raining most of the way, each time we stopped it appeared to get more torrential. Seemingly following a front of rain moving south east. But it was the only day with really bad weather all week, so we did really well.

Saturday, October 14, 2023

ART 'n' Ab ART - Norwich 20 Group

SALTHOUSE EXHIBITION - October 2023



The sense of lofty open space and even light makes the Salthouse Church a brilliant place to hold an exhibition. The Norwich 20 Group was formed over 75 years ago. Its artists are very accomplished painters and experienced exhibitors.





Though this year's exhibitions featured a broad range of styles and accomplishments. Watercolours, oils, acrylic and mixed media plus sculpture. As I looked around I didn't find much that really excited the heart or was different enough to spark the interest or perception. It felt as though I'd seen better examples of this style of work elsewhere. 





Probably seventy five years ago, post war, most of this would have then been cutting edge and with the trend in the art schools of the time. Now you have to do something distinctive with it, otherwise it appears merely imitative, no matter how accomplished its execution is. There was post war expressionism, Kurt Schwitters influenced, bright and tightly executed still life's, op art geometric etc. So.most if the major art trends, post war were covered.




This was a nice exhibition, but I'd rather it had been less polite.




Tuesday, October 03, 2023

MY OWN WALKING - Journal October 2023


Currently both Hubby and I are running bit of a sleep deficit. Sometimes up at two, three o'clock in the morning, only on rare ocassions sleeping a full night. The summer heat and humidity has never been great for my sleep. Well, to be honest, nothing much is great for it. Body too hot, body too cold, body too achy, too much light, too stormy, too windy, too rainy, too damp, too low or too high the barometric pressure. It might be said that blaming ones lack of sleep entirely on external circumstances, though understandable, convenient even, is very far from the whole story.

I've always been a restless sleeper. My Mother used to say I could destroy a well made bed over night. But, however restless, I dont remember lacking sleep in my youth. Once I started working fulltime it changed. By the 1980's, I was living and working in London. In the early 80's recession I was made redundant twice in the space of a couple of years. I moved from one rented room to another far too many times to remember now. I was in my mid twenties. After leaving college, nothing felt to have gone according to even the most sketchy of plans. I'd been trying out all sorts of new things hoping to discover a fresh direction creatively. I brushed under the carpet any sense I might have had at the time, of having failed. I was, nonetheless, living an unsettled life. This was the point when the length of sleep began to become more erratic.  I've struggled to get sufficient sleep ever since. Our tiredness can be the bodies way of curtailing the constant driven sense of running - mostly on the spot.

Tiredness is never simply the physical manifestation of a lack of sleep. Lack of sleep also has a mental and emotional mattress it rests on. One that has become so uncomfortable you are unable to sleep the sleep of the righteous. The very spirit of sleep itself is disturbed, turning uneasily beneath the duvet. Feeling tired all the time is fundamentally a manifestatìon of an inner spiritual malaise. One where we do toss and turn at night, trying and usually failing to resolve dilemmas and emotional conflicts. Hence we awaken in the morning tired out by our nightly exertions, and yet more depleted. Its a type of perverse feedback loop. If only we could wish or will ourselves to sleep. In my experience lack of sleep hygiene is rarely the primary cause.

Dr Johnson's maxim that anyone ' who is tired of London is tired of life" was spoken in a different era, and of a different London, to our own. Though I think it contains a wider application - for if you are ' tired of anything, you are tired of life'. One can become tired of the way your life is, or has become. And though one might wish to change it, it may not feel or be that simple. We can be caught in circumstances, or consequences of decisions and commitments, either beyond our control, or quite difficult to extricate ourselves from. Its not always that easy to just walk away. This lack of ease in achieving any resolution, can feed into the restlessness and anxiety that results in the decimation of rejuvinating sleep.

And that lack of sleep then begins to play a more pro-active role. It turns into a worry in itself. You constantly read articles on the effect lack of sleep has on ones general fitness. You find yourself eating poorer quality junk food, high in sugar, fats and process. Food can be a coping mechanism, one that provides a short term hit of energy or comfort, before you need more of it. Even though you know its not good for you, you can't resist, even as the pounds pile on, and your waist size expands. You exercise either not at all, or obsessively to the point of neurotic exhaustion.

Whilst tiredness plays a huge role in our physical health, it also has a detrimental effect on our mental health? through increased sensitivity, moodiness, brain function, forgetfulness, depression and eventually dementia. Not to mention the longevity of your life. Blimey, talk about piling on the agony. This taps into another aspect of sleeplessness - existential worries about our mortality. About falling asleep and never waking up again.

Tiredness and lack of sleep could be read as a garbled message from our sub conscious, concerning something we'd rather not see. This may be existential in nature. It maybe time feels like its running out for happiness or fulfillment. It could be an insight into oneself, of what one really wants from life, that you are perhaps resistant to fully acknowledge. 

Most of the time we are just about coping, making it through another day relatively unscathed. Getting home, we then kill time till you can reasonably go to bed. There is often not much energy left of an evening to do anything you find creatively fulfilling or meaningful. Tiredness feeding into ones desire to be vague, switch off and vegetate. For should you stop to investigate your tiredness, there is a lot more that could unravel than the insufficient number of hours spent asleep.

Monday, October 02, 2023

FILM CLUB - Through A Glass Darkly 1961

TRILOGY SEASON
Ingmar Bergman's Faith Trilogy

Karin ( Harriet Anderson ) has returned home after treatment for her schizophrenia. There is no cure longer term, and like her Mother before her she will eventually be consumed by it. But for now she has short lived interludes when her life seems lucid and normal. Her Father ( Gunmar Bjornstrand ) feels guilty that he has let his ambitions as a writer always put his family in second place. The novel he's writing conveniently means he has to absent himself from home in order to finish it. Writing has become a form of escape from a troubled relationship within his personal life



Though Karin's Husband ( Max Von Sydow ) is a doctor, he feels helpless in the face of his wife's illness. Though he loves her, he is unable to express that through close physical intimacy. Karin's brother is too young really to handle what is happening to his sister. No one else,however, is available to explain or understand his sexual feelings and desires.

For a while Karin has been going to the abandoned loft in the house. Here she hears voices in the walls, and imagines God will come to her from out of the cupboard. Her faith appears to be both a solace and a torment to her, The voices start to tell her to do forbidden things, like read her father's diary. There she discovers her illness is incurable and that her Father ghoulishly wants to document her decline in writing. This disturbs the frail balance of her mental state and during this upset the voices tell her to seduce her brother.

Filmed in the Orkneys on Faro, Through A Glass Darkly is set on a sparse island largely cut off from the outside world. Karin's mental illness is an inherited one. This separates her from her Father and her husband, both of whom retreat into their artistic and scientific realms. To place faith in them, as ways to make sense of their lives and reality. Which, in both cases, have significantly failed them.

God is never part of their worldview.  Because of his sister's illness her brother is basically sidelined from his Father's thoughts, love and appreciation. Psychologically, emotionally and spiritually they are all alienated from each other. Nothing they do can provide the sustenance, nor take the place, of the God most of them no longer believe in. Even God in the end disappoints Karin because when he does appear to her, it turns out to be a spider. God becoming another source for her fearfulness and feelings of emptiness.

Whether it is merely a technical limitation or entirely intentional, the sound quality in the movie has a very pronounced bouncing echo. It is mostly noticeable when characters walk around the house. The house feels empty of life, even uninhabited. Its very minimally furnished, containing only the barest of necessities. This is not a home, it displays little sign of warmth, of being constantly lived in and loved. Spatially the echo is suggestive of an atmosphere of an unbalanced state of mind. One where the past reverberates in the air, distorting the stability of the present.

Through A Glass Darkly brought Bergman his second Oscar for best foreign language film.  His first being the previous year for Virgin Spring. The script is extremely well written, sensitively filmed and well acted by some of Bergman's company regulars. And given the bleakness of the subject matter is devoid of histrionics. Excellent.


CARROT REVIEW - 6/8




Saturday, September 30, 2023

SHERINGHAM DIARY No 93 - Unpromising Weather

It's been a while since I last posted an apt shop name. This one Hubby found. Its a unisex barbers in the Farringdon area of London. Its called Barber Streisand, which is pure genius.

With the 1940's weekend now out of the way, we usually enter a period during the remains of September of a gradual slowing of sales. This pootles along till we reach October Half Term which marks the end of the tourist season. Christmas having never been a big feature on the retail calendar for us.



This year, however, the late summer season has come very abruptly to a halt. The last two weeks of September being similar in feel to the winter months. Earlier in the year we considered what the future options might be for our business. The time to decide is fast looming upon us. Both of us are pooped. Even the summer season, usually a time to relax and roll with the momentum, has been fraught with stress. Days so quiet you can hear despair whispering in your ear. Our really good days failing to shine with quite the same brilliance they once had. Nothing is how it was a couple of years ago. It then becomes a job of work to not let any of this get to you. Staying engaged, positive and responsive has become part of our everyday job of work. 


The thought of putting all that behind us, if only for a week, feels like a gift of pure bliss. So we are taking a well earned week's holiday in Whitby and North Yorkshire. We've booked a bungalow ten minutes from the town centre. Intending to avoid too much driving once we get there. The journey up alone will take us 4-5 hours. Its a place we have visited innumerable times, and we love it.

The shop, prevents us from taking holidays in the times where there is a greater chance of good weather. Consequently we've become accustomed to travelling hopefully, and making the most of whatever climate actually turns up. Having been remarkably fortunate in weather in a large number of our early Autumn or not yet Spring holidays. The possibility of inclemency has always to be met with equanimity. It maybe overcast, but there's no reason to respond in kind.



I think back quite a few years ago, to an earlier visit to Whitby. You'll find it somewhere in the back catalogue of Sheringham Diaries on the blog. Of a time when the entire North East Coast was plagued by dense freezing fog, seemingly unending. Whitby Abbey was one of the most thrilling atmospheric visits I have ever had to an ancient monument. It was a real highlight, that was completely unexpected. You never know what may come out of unpromising weather.



Wednesday, September 27, 2023

POEM - Preparing To Let Go


And on the hundredth blow
and on the two hundreth
and on and on and on and on and on
we have clung on
as if waiting for a sign
an oracle or a goddess
to turn up and say
its fine, you can let go now, of that thought,
of that ideal,
of that well polished desire now
hanging off an edge of cliff, well,
this is not a life strategy is it?
its survival of a sort
for which hope has no sustenance
the longer you cling
it reddens the face, its the whitener of knuckles,
the dangling of nethers
forestalling only what is inevitable
grim determination writing itself large
in scrawled handwriting across the forehead
'we are getting ready to let go, please give us sufficient time,
to adjust, to make clear plans ahead, to get our heads around
the possibilities, engage with our fear, and
to prepare for
the falling of failing'
to find for oneself, if we will have new feet
and firm ground beneath them
to locate where
the unmarked path of prophecy
may now be.


Written on 27th September 2023
by Stephen Lumb