Norwich: A Pub for Every Day of the Year and a Church for Every Week

My childhood recollections of my home city of Norwich are a mix of both the memorable and the mundane:
the mummified woman accompanied by her equally mummified cat in the Castle Museum, which both fascinated and terrified me, were invariably the first things I would head for on every visit; the open-air market – apparently the largest of its kind in Europe – was full of rainbow colours and the calls of larger-than-life stall holders; the inside of the cathedral was so cavernous I was certain it must be the largest inside space in the world. On the other hand some of Norwich's finest sites passed me by completely - the ancient, crumbling city wall was just somewhere I stood with my Mother to catch a bus and the stunning Art Nouveau Royal Arcade was simply the location of the city's best toy shop.

My home city of Norwich in eastern England has until recently been nothing other than, well......my home town. I am perhaps no different to every other human on the planet in that what is right under my nose tends to be ignored as commonplace. Instead I raise my dreams and lift my eyes to go exploring the exotic, different and further afield. While in England, on a rare break from my travels, it took a friend visiting from New Zealand to ask 'will you show me this home city of yours?' before I made a surprising discovery – Norwich is amazing!

While giving Sid the tour he asked for we visited all of those places which I had long since stopped noticing and some I had never noticed in the first place. Sights such as the mediaeval box-like castle which sits proudly perched above the city - now home to an extensive and eclectic museum collection, including one of the most significant collections of Anglo-Saxon treasure found anywhere in Britain. Those with a fascination for the macabre can tour the maze of dungeons complete with torture instruments and a grisly collection of death heads – moulded impressions taken directly from criminals after they were hanged here.

To a New Zealander anything over 100 years old is ancient while in mediaeval Norwich 100 years old barely registers. Take the 'new' cathedral for example. The imposingly Gothic St John the Baptist Roman Catholic Cathedral dates from 1882 which rates it as a mere babe compared to the 900+ year old Norwich Cathedral whose ornate soaring spire can be seen from almost anywhere in the city. Also allowed as ancient are the mediaeval churches which can be stumbled upon within every few minutes of walking.

A fact often bandied about by Norwich folk is that the city has a different church for every week of the year. Combine this with the two cathedrals – which by any standards may seem a little greedy - and you may be forgiven for thinking this city's population stand out as particularly devout. However, there is another fact which is typically coupled with the church statistic – Norwich has a different pub for every day of the year.

Also in the old and interesting category are Norwich's cobbled streets such as Elm Hill. A wander down here - once the neighbourhood of wealthy merchants from the world of weaving, dying and goldsmithery - can make you feel a little giddy. The Tudor buildings which crowd in from either side have pronounced leans and lurches with not a right angle in sight. 

Sid's constant 'what's down here?' (for which I invariably and embarrassingly had no answer) led us to discover some tucked away gems. I'm not sure I have ever even poked my nose into the little stone courtyard called Wrights Court just off Elm Hill, so how could I know that here I would find one of the city's most wonderful tea shops called simply 'The Tea House'. We were both so enchanted by this discovery we stopped to have lunch.....and tea. Sid also led me off on an amble along the river (hang on – isn't it me who's supposed to be the tour guide?) where pubs and cafés set up outside terrace tables to give a distinctly Mediterranean feel for the customers enjoying their pints of beer or lunch.

Sid made me look up and in doing so I discovered doorways adorned with crumbling carved stone cherubs, balconies and building façades with historical, architectural and ornamental features which were totally brand new to me and archways and gateways dating from goodness knows when.

Our last stop of the day was to have a little wander around Norwich market which has been trading on this very same site for 900 years. The canvas canopies of my childhood have now been replaced with harder wearing PVC versions, perhaps not as traditional but still colourful and sporting distinctive stripes. Surrounding the market from every angle is something which draws Sid's eye – the 15th century flint decorated Guildhall, the white-washed and window-turreted Sir Garnet Wolseley pub dating back hundreds of years, the grand Baroque frontage of the historically significant Lloyds Bank, the Art Deco entrance to the Royal Arcade; looming over it all like a proud sentinel is of course the castle.

I almost feel a little disgruntled that no-one ever told me how wonderful my home city is. I may have walked around forever with my eyes closed if some lad from the other side of the world hadn't showed it to me. Now, every time I am home I intend to keep exploring these streets – reacquainting myself with the familiar while also uncovering the never-seen-before. I suspect Norwich has plenty to show me yet.

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