Today’s unplanned venture to see gray seals at Horsey Beach, a 20-minute drive north of our hotel produced unexpected and unhappy results. What could be better on a nice, sunny June morning? Nothing except a drive along two- and one-lane roads, that is. And that led to my downfall. Going around a curve with oncoming traffic I overcompensated and hit a fence post or something on the left (passenger) side, destroying the mirror and leaving paint scars on the front and rear quarter panels.
We spent several hours figuring out how to proceed, including long, fruitless calls to two Hertz help lines and a visit to an auto parts store on the off chance they could replace the mirror. No luck. Finally, I googled it and determined that in Great Britain one must have a working rear view mirror in the car and on the driver’s side. The passenger side mirror is not required. So the heck with it; let’s continue our trip as planned.
Injuries? Only one. A massive bruise to my ego.
And the seals? They were there but only stuck their heads out briefly 100 yards or so from the beach. At least I got my feet wet in the North Sea.
Had a nice chat with an English couple who winter in Florida in their motor coach. I’ve yet to talk to anyone here who hasn’t been to Florida. Even the guy in the auto parts store was at Disney World last year.
We did visit our two objectives, Ormesby St. Michael and Runham. Henry Dow was born in Runham, lived in Ormesby, came to America in 1637 to Dorchester, MA, moved to Hampton, NH and died in Rockingham, NH. Judy and I recently went to Hampton, NH and saw the Congregational church there, the first to be established in America. Henry was either a founding member of that church or an early joiner.
Runham is a small village with a church in need of £160,000 of roof work, half of which must be raised through donations. Ormesby St. Michael is, as far as we could see, the church of that name and only that church. We could find no sign of a village. It abuts, however, Ormesby St. Margaret which is a real village, sporting even a gas station.
None of the several people I asked even knew where Runham is, were only vaguely familiar with Ormesby and knew no one named Dow. But we didn’t come here to do genealogical research, we came here to get a feel for present-day locations where our ancestors called home.
A two-hour drive over two- and four-lane highways brought us the the home stomping grounds of the Ricks, Helpringham. The town is a not very wide spot in a not very wide road but it, like many villages in this neck of the woods, sports an impressive parish church, its steeple visible for miles around.
We made a complete search of the tombstones in the church yard and the graveyard across the street, but no Rick stones to be found. Grandpa Rick wasn’t much of a church goer so maybe he inherited that trait from his forefathers. A fellow who lives next door to the graveyard is 93 years old, a retired farmer, knows no one named Rick, but again it was around 1850 when Joseph left town. Camden, MI, where he ended up, is only slightly bigger than Helpringham. Been to Florida? Yep.
Dinner tonight was at the next-town-over Heckington pub, ribs for Judy and lamb with mint pie for me. Good stuff. Helpringham has a liquor store and a convenience store kinda establishment but no restaurant. A massive church and three graveyards but no restaurant.
Tomorrow we’re off to Silsby land, Judy’s grandmother’s line in Northampton. We’re only a 20-minute drive from Boston – the English Boston – and if the spirit so moves us we may go see the Stub cathedral there on our way to Northampton.
It’s getting late and the Internet here is sloooow so pictures will have to wait until tomorrow.
And it’s morning and here are the pictures:
