REFLECTIONS.

A memoir on the value of life by Kim.

Part IV.

After a bitterly cold night, we woke comfortably warm thanks to our double sleeping bag. Yes, it proved to be a great success. During the night we found another fault with the car; the bed wasn’t long enough for Steve, so we were forced to sleep diagonally. It was a bit cramped, but we’d adapt.
The day was miserable and rainy. After a light breakfast we set off toward Sudbury. We had planned to stop in Hedingham to visit the castle that gives the town its name. Built in the 12th century by the powerful de Vere family, earls of Oxford, it was one of the best preserved Norman keeps in the country. To our dismay, it wasn’t open.
On through Sudbury, on the border of Suffolk, we took a detour to visit Lavenham, an old wool town which was one of the chief glories of the county. The streets of the village were lined by wooden houses of many differing periods that appeared to lean and buckle. We were surprised that they were still standing.
After a night spent camped beside the A140, where cars constantly invaded our sleep with their headlights, we headed off to Norwich in search of an auto electrician to fix the water pump and refrigerator and, hopefully, install the radio. In Norwich we exchanged some left-over US and Canadian dollars for pound sterling. We also cashed $200 US travelers’ cheques. Yes, this was before plastic ladies and gentlemen.
Our first stop was a caravan sales establishment. We were able to get the pump and fridge repaired for a reasonable cost. We still needed to install the radio and have the car heating fixed. I purchased some brackets and fixed the radio to the underside of the dashboard. We still had the issue with the car heating system and we could not find a place that could do the job straight away. By this time, dusk was upon us, so we delayed fixing the heater until the following day.
That evening we were happy little campers indeed with almost everything operating. After the A140 experience, we made sure to find B roads to set up camp. There we were, an omelette was cooking, there was cold beer in the fridge and the radio was playing. Then disaster! The car battery started running down. After two hours, the only thing that still worked was the gas stove.
As we were sitting in the dark, we decided to get an early night and ring the AA (Automobile Association) for roadside assistance the following morning. Any humour we were able to derive from all the car mishaps had begun to wear a little thin. When would it all stop we wondered.
After a cup of tea – at least the stove was working – Steve set off on foot to find the nearest telephone. Did I mention this was 1986? There were no mobile phones at the ready. It was a sunny morning with a light mist in the air. Steve reached an Esso garage where the lady behind the counter kindly allowed him access to the phone. He must have walked quite a distance as an AA man arrived in his absence and, after an hour, the battery was recharged, and we were ready to set off. We have a similar service in NSW called the NRMA. As members, we were under the impression that there was a reciprocal agreement between the two associations. There was but, apparently, we were supposed to register with the AA on our arrival in England. Oops. The AA man was within his rights to charge for his time and service but, feeling sorry for us, he did it for free.
We arrived in the seaport and market town of King’s Lynn, some 70 kilometres west of Norwich and, to our surprise, found a garage rather quickly. We left the car with the mechanic who promised that all our problems would be solved by 6pm. He was a man of his word as we returned to find the car heating was now working and a new battery had been installed, all for a cost of £131 which we were happy to pay. We took the old battery with us too, just in case!
We woke the next morning confident that the car was finally in full working order. Together, we managed to wire the radio up so that it played out of the existing speakers located in the driver and passenger doors. The wind was ferocious, so we had a bit of trouble lowering the pop-top but, we eventually got it down and secured. Setting off toward Edinburgh, we found that passing large trucks in a strong wind was a daunting experience to say the very least, so we headed off the main road and wound our way through peaceful hamlets.
We stopped at a little pub called The Nag’s Head in the village of Helpringham before continuing along back roads to the city of Lincoln.
Now, trying to avoid writing about the history of this city is like trying to dodge flies in the Australian outback during summer: impossible. So, as briefly as possible, the Romans conquered this part of Britain in 48CE and shortly afterwards built a legionary fortress high on a hill atop the Iron Age settlement of Lindon (1BCE). The name was Latinised to Lindum and given the title Colonia when it was converted into a settlement for army veterans in 71CE when the legion moved on to York. It became a major, flourishing settlement, accessible from the sea via both the River Trent and the River Witham. However, the town and waterways fell into decline in the 3rd century.
The city rose to prominence once again during the Viking raids of about 800. During this time, Lincoln was a trading centre minting its own coins. From 886, Danelaw was established, and the city experienced an unprecedented explosion in its economy with the settlement of the Danes. After the Norman Conquest of 1066, William I reached the city and recognised that the Roman walled fortress proved the ideal strategic position to construct a new castle as, not only was it high above the surrounding countryside, it was also located at a vital strategic junction of a several routes. So, in 1068, William built his castle in the south-west corner of the decaying Roman walls which crowned the summit of the hill. The Roman walls were covered by earth banks. A great mound of earth surrounded by a ditch became the Castle’s strongpoint, which could be held when everywhere else had fallen into enemy hands. Gradually, the banks and timber stockades were replaced by stone walls, gatehouses and towers.
The castle was besieged during the two Battles of Lincoln (in 1141 and 1217 respectively). The latter, a part of the 1st Baron’s War, was brought about after the signing of the Magna Carta by King John in 1215. After this turbulence subsided, Lincoln was relatively peaceful until, in 1644, the 1st Civil War broke out. Parliamentary soldiers (also known as Roundheads) stormed the castle using ladders to climb the walls and ramparts.
In the 1700s, the castle began to be used as a prison. Whereas the Tower of London was full of tourists and bore the admission price of £4 per person, Lincoln Castle was relatively empty and cost us 40p each. We only saw four other people while we were there.
We enjoyed being free to explore the towers and every nook and cranny of the castle. The prison chapel was particularly fascinating. It was linked to the prison by a corridor. Here the chaplain sat in a raised pulpit enclosed on 3 sides. Each prisoner stood in separate compartments and had to be locked in before the next prisoner was brought in. They all could see the chaplain but not one another. Women were at the front, condemned prisoners at the rear and debtors to the side.
From the castle we ventured to Lincoln Cathedral to view the finest existing copy of the original Magna Carta of which there only four – two in the British Museum and the other in Salisbury Cathedral.
Lincoln Cathedral dates from 1088. In 1141, the timber roofing was destroyed in a fire. It was rebuilt, and the cathedral was expanded, but it was mostly destroyed by a rare earthquake about forty years later, in 1185. Only the lower part of the west end and of its two attached towers remained and the cathedral was rebuilt. It was the tallest building in the world for 238 years (1311–1549), and the first building to hold that title after the Great Pyramid of Giza.
As we left Lincoln, this incredible structure dominated the skyline with its magnificent towers. That night we camped beside the Foss Dyke Navigation, an 18 kilometre long canal built by the Romans over 1850 years earlier to link the Witham and the Trent.

END PART IV