It struck me quite forcibly yesterday that the areas we drive through, and sometimes across, have a long and indeed wealthy history. For instance we started by heading for Sudbury, after failing to complete parallel parking and reversing round a corner to any one's satisfaction, especially that ginger cats! With the sun shining, the sky blue, the engine swearing every time I chose the wrong gear we headed through the country roads populated only by retired gentlemen and white van drivers. Sudbury reflects the vast wealth that once made this area one of the most influential in England. The wealth came from wool! Whereas we tend to think of sheep, those white fluffy farm animals, as creatures who inhabit Scottish mountains and the English lake district, there was a time when this are was covered in them.
Before the sheep however there was Sudbury. It is on record as being mentioned as long ago as the year 799 when the bishop Aelfhun died there. Maybe he didn't like it? Edward III, one of those despotic English kings knew a thing or two about money and in the thirteen hundreds he imported a lot of Fleming's to weave the wool and develop trade. (That's Fleming's in folk from what is now Holland/Belgium, not some sort of rat like furry animal by the way) Wool's importance is shown in that the original 'woolsack,' sat upon by the Lord Speaker in the House of Lords contained Sudbury wool. Not a lot of people know that! Few care. Careering through the narrow crowded market with a thousand other vehicles takes the driver, who has no time to look, past portrait painter Thomas Gainsborough's house. I knocked once but he did not answer. He is of course famous for his portraits and it is said that when Mr & Mrs Andrews wanted their portrait painted he actually desired to paint a landscape. So he just stuck them to one side and filled the picture with their estate. Now a small market town bereft of sheep it remains in many American memories as RAF Sudbury was home to 834th Squadron (H), 486th Bomb Group (H), 8th Air Force during the second world war. Like the RAF the Yanks lost around 50,000 bomber crew during this conflict!
Swearing through the winding country route chosen for me, changing gear with every hill and speed limit that changed themselves within yards of one another I thought, we eventually dawdled through Long Melford at 29 miles an hour. Slow enough to avoid the dumper truck being unloaded in the town centre. Long Melford is a very long, and very wealthy, village that has stretched its way along this Roman road since even before the Romans decided to tread it. Made wealthy by the wool found in abundance here a thousand years ago the village boast two great manor houses, with their red brick walls very noticeable, and a huge fifteenth century church. You could not pull the wool over Suffolk folks heads in the old days. This area has been home to the ancient Britons, Angles, Saxons, Danes, Romanised Britons and the mongrel mob that now refers to itself as 'English.' Several thousand years of continual existence. From a forest covered land, through the middle ages and the sheep which brought wealth, nobles and abbots fighting for political power, the plague and the following 'Peasants Revolt' all passed through here, leaving a rich history and, in Suffolk, lots of cash still and that in spite of the credit crunch!
Free from manoeuvres I sped down the road back home, until we passed the 'community hall' car park. Forced by the evil instructor in there we practised reversing into a bay and bouncing of the pavement. I made out the word "Fail" escaping from his clenched teeth but was not to sure about the others. One more attempt on Friday, another on Monday and then the Test itself on Wednesday. Bishops Stortford does not know what it has let itself in for.
