Reflections of Thetford Issue 10

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Issue 10 Cover photo

In room 29 of the historic Bell Hotel, guests have reported sightings of a spectral woman believed to be Betty, a former resident from the 18th century.

Legend has it that Betty tragically perished after a fierce argument with her lover, who allegedly pushed her from the window to her death in the courtyard below.

Over the years, guests have claimed to see a mysterious figure standing at the window where Betty met her end.Visitors have also experienced eerie sensations of being watched in room 29, accompanied by unexplained movements of pillows and curtains.

Location - Room 29 The Bell Hotel, courtesy of Greene King Inns Thetford www.greenekinginns.co.uk

Costume - thanks to Magic Floor Productions www.magicfloorproductions.co.uk

Jewellery - Chloe’s Jewellers Thetford www.chloesjewellers.co.uk

Props - Instinctively Mystical, 2 Bridge Street www.instinctivelymystical.co.uk

Model - Mia Londyn @mialondyn

Photography - Martin Angus @mangus.co.uk

Welcome

Welcome to Issue 10 of Reflections of Thetford magazine, a magazine for Thetford, by Thetford and only Thetford

by Martin Angus (Editor)

Welcome to Issue 10 of ‘Reflections of Thetford’ magazine.

Well we have a bit of a ghost theme to this issue, the story of Bettie Radcliff is re-enacted in the most haunted room in Thetford, along with the first transcription of the first book from the ‘lost property’ suitcase, which was generously donated by one of our readers.

Following this theme, we delve deeper into the enigma of the Thetford tunnels, with some spiritual insights from the bowels of one of the towns great landmark building. This series of stories has proven to be the most popular, most read and most commented story the magazine has run... and it looks as if we are only just starting to scratch the surface of subterranean Thetford.

We are very happy to include our local Fire Service in this edition, where some members of the crew offered a frank insight to their role as 0n-call fire fighters.

Ex mayor, Chris Harvey, looks back on his time in

office serving our community, sharing some of his most favourite and memorable moments.

Local businessman Deron Coleman aka Craig’s da Flava, shares his start up story, as does Dan from DK Armaments, both attesting that behind the appearances of success, there has been a long struggle and hard work to get to where they are now.

Sandra Starling has written a touching story regarding the period in 1945 when Japan surrendered, and how that impacted locals at home and those who were prisoners of war. There is a service of commemoration on Friday 15th August 2025, starting at 10.30am at The Methodist Church, before moving to the War Memorial on the Market Place, then to the FEPOW memorial at Nun’s Bridges at 2.30pm.

As always there is so much more in the magazine than I have the space to write here, please enjoy!

Thanks to all our readers, contributors, advertisers, we couldn’t do it without you.

©Reflections of Thetford is published by The Bubbly Hub. All rights reserved 2025. Whilst every care is taken, the publisher accepts no responsibility for loss or damage resulting from the contents of this publication, as well as being unable to guarantee the accuracy of contributions supplied as editorial, images or advertisements. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means or stored in any information storage or retrieval system without the publishers written permission.

He was all right - Chris Harvey

£85 and a dream - Craig’s da Flava

Champion of the arts - Katie Bird

The town’s quiet heroes - Thetford Fire Service

The Medusa Project - Bob Blogg

A lady in the window - Photoshoot

The Riverside Kiosk - Julie Dean

Victory in Japan II - 80th Commemoration

Drinking and Summer - Breckland Cat Protection

Thetford Treasure Trail - Stephanie, Albert and Fergus

Putting Thetford on the map - Putterfingers

The Portrait Lady- Chris Goddard

Thetford Tunnels II

Lost Property - A ghostly gift

DK Armaments - Daniel Kiane

London Borough of Thetford - A period of growth

Letters to the Editor

Photograph

‘Chris Harvey’ by Mangus

“He Was All Right”

The

Uncommon

Legacy of former Mayor Chris Harvey

Written by Martin Angus

Chris Harvey never intended to become Mayor of Thetford. He didn’t campaign for recognition or seek the ceremonial robes. In fact, he nearly turned it down. But in true Norfolk fashion, after a quiet moment with a cup of tea, an actor on daytime TV, and some healthy self-doubt, he simply thought, “What have I got to lose?” And in that one decision, Thetford gained a mayor who redefined public service—not through power or politics, but through presence.

Chris Harvey’s mayorship will not be remembered for headlines or policy. It will be remembered for moments: for arm-wrestling children and breaking the ice with rock-paper-scissors at local schools, laughing with pride-goers in his tie-dye shirt, and pausing in the town square to explain Thetford’s

history to curious visitors. His was not a mayoralty of ego. It was one of earnestness. He didn’t lead from behind a podium—he led from the pavement, the classroom, the concert hall, the market stall.

A Local Son

Chris’s roots are not just local—they’re woven into Thetford’s soil. Born in Bury Hospital, raised in Kilverstone, and later moving to Thetford, his journey began among the fields, small farms, and winding Norfolk lanes. His father Des worked on local farms, mended lawnmowers at Frank Clark’s, delivered gas to countryside homes, and appeared in ‘Dad’s Army’ episodes—not as an actor, but as a part of life. Through his father’s connections and community work, young Chris absorbed the values of integrity,

self-reliance, and kindness. In many ways, Des Harvey’s example set the course for his son’s quiet but profound leadership style.

Chris’s stories are full of charm and grit—from slipperings in school for saying “bloody” on the football field to being helped through a childhood stutter by a thoughtful teacher and a book. These are the building blocks of character: small moments that, over time, forged the man who would go on to don Thetford’s mayoral chain—not as a badge of power, but as a symbol of trust.

From Reluctance to Revelation

When Chris first considered the mayoralty, fear nearly won. “I was scared stiff,” he admits. “I didn’t want to let the town down.” But a passing comment from actor Don Warrington on *Lorraine* changed everything. Warrington spoke of regretting missed chances because of fear. That sentiment hit Chris hard—and nudged him to step forward.

And once he did, he never looked back.

“I didn’t achieve anything earth-shattering,” he says with disarming honesty. “I didn’t change world poverty. But I did speak to a lot of people.” And that is where Chris’s impact truly lies—in his deep, unfiltered, and compassionate connection to people.

It’s there in the story of the young boy with additional needs who lit up when Chris appeared in full mayoral robes for a photo. It’s in the handshakes at the market, the arm-wrestles, the spontaneous chats with schoolchildren. The dignity he brought to formal events was matched only by the warmth he brought to everyday ones. He respected the title, yes—but he never let it get in the way of being

A Mayor of the People

Chris was not a political mayor. He had no agenda to push. His impact came through visibility, empathy, and presence. “I think I became a better person,” he reflects. “More confident. A bit more tolerant. The role taught me how to listen, how to hold space for people who felt they didn’t matter.”

That mindset shaped how he wore the chain and robes—sparingly. “They put a gap between me and people,” he said. “They were frightened. Chains were okay. But the full robes and hat made me feel like I wasn’t me.” His instinct to downplay formality brought him closer to the community and opened doors that a more traditional mayor might never have reached.

His calendar was full—but not with grand openings or power lunches. He preferred schools, fairs, charity events, small groups. He joined in. Listened. Laughed. Took photos. Spoke plainly. And the town responded.

One parent described him as “the only mayor who knelt down to speak to children.” Another noted how he “always said yes, always turned up, and always made people feel important.” He didn’t separate himself from Thetford—he embedded himself in it.

Thetford Then and Now

Chris’s reflections on Thetford are clear-eyed, affectionate, and occasionally critical. He acknowledges the divisions in the town, especially the growing intolerance that’s emerged in recent years. “That wasn’t there before,” he says. “It’s crept in, often fuelled by online forums. But it’s not the

He champions the role of migrants, from London overspill families in the ‘60s to the Portuguese and Eastern European workers who came later. “They brought so much,” he says. “Food, culture, work ethic. If you walk down King Street and don’t hear English—it’s not a threat. It’s shift work. It’s life.”

He praises the conservation volunteers, litterpickers, Citizens Advice Bureau, and local charities like Meet Up. “This town runs on volunteers,” he says. “They don’t do it for recognition. They do it because it’s their town.”

But he’s also candid about what needs fixing. The loss of a youth centre. The lack of dentists. The difficulty navigating Breckland bureaucracy. The vanishing of local newspapers. “We’ve got too many tiers of local government,” he says bluntly. “It’s like running through treacle.”

His dream? For Thetford to regain borough status and manage its own affairs again.

Looking Ahead: Legacy and Hope

Chris’s own ambitions remain modest. “I just want people to think I was all right,” he says. “That’s enough for me.” But he hopes others take up the baton—especially the young. He worries about them. Not for lack of potential, but for lack of opportunity. “They need places to go. People to believe in them. A reason to be proud of where they’re from.”

He sees potential in the £20 million government regeneration funding, though he’s wary of it being siphoned away from Thetford’s core. He’s hopeful for the tech park. Supportive of efforts to bring higher-paying jobs. Passionate about reviving the

town centre—not to replicate the past, but to make it relevant, accessible, and lively again.

Above all, Chris Harvey believes in Thetford’s people. “They undersell themselves,” he says. “They’re brilliant. But they need to believe it too.”

He wants Thetford to stop apologising for itself. To embrace its rich history, its diversity, its quirks. “Don’t be ashamed to say you’re from Thetford,” he urges. “Be proud. Help your neighbours. Help your town. And help yourself.”

The Final Word

Chris Harvey may not have changed the system. But he changed how people felt. And that, in any town, is the real work of a mayor. Chris also adds, “my year as mayor would not have gone as smoothly without the support of my wife Tel and family”.

He led by example—not from behind a desk, but by walking the streets. He reminded people that connection matters, that kindness counts, and that leadership doesn’t always need to be loud. Sometimes, it just needs to listen.

He didn’t want a statue, or a title, or a legacy.

He just wanted to be “all right.”

And in a world too often defined by ego and division, Chris Harvey was something better:

He was real. He was kind. He was Thetford.

And he was all right.

by Mangus

Photograph

Photograph ‘Deron Coleman aka Craig’s da Flava’ by Mangus

£85 and a Dream

The Unfiltered Journey of Craig’s da Flava

Written by Martin Angus

In the heart of Thetford, where a simple craving for barbecue wings set the wheels of destiny in motion, a local food legend was born. His name is Craig - or Deron Coleman, if we go by legalities - but around these parts, he’s simply known as Craig’s da Flava. What began as frustration during COVID lockdowns grew into a movement that brought soul food to the streets, a community together, and a man’s spirit back from the brink.

This is the raw, unpolished, powerful story of a man who cooked through heartbreak, immigration issues, depression, and kitchenless nights - and emerged, not just with a business, but with something even greater: belief in himself.

“Cook with Happiness”

It all began in Jamaica - born and raised - but Craig’s earliest connection to food came through his mother and his grandfather. His mum taught him the lesson that would become the cornerstone of his brand: “Never cook with anger. Cook with happiness.” At just 15 years old, she told him to re-cook a meal — not because it

was burnt, not because it lacked flavour, but because his attitude wasn’t right. That moment - infuriating then, profound in hindsight - would define everything that came after.

Cooking wasn’t always the goal. Life moved. America happened. Ipswich happened. London. Then back to America. His mum had sent him to the States to harden up, to learn, to grow. It worked. But the food? That came later.

His grandfather, a humble man who cooked, ironed, and showed young Craig what love through service looked like, was an unspoken influence. When his grandfather passed away, something shifted - as it tends to when people who define your childhood leave the picture.

The Hustle Years: Wandering Without Purpose

By his mid-20s, Craig was back in the UK, bouncing between cities, chasing odd jobs, helping mates, surviving. He was “here, there, everywhere” - not grounded, not stable. When he overstayed his visa in the U.S., returning to Britain wasn’t just emotional, it was

legal chaos. Rebuilding wasn’t optional; it was survival.

And then came his first wife, met online, moved to Thetford together, started a life. Things looked up. A child came, a little family was formed. But life has a way of testing even the strongest foundations. COVID hit. The marriage cracked. Separation followed. But in the ashes of that domestic life, a fire was about to ignite.

From Lockdown Cravings to a Local Sensation

One day, Craig wanted wings. No shops open. No deliveries. No wings. So, Craig got fed up - literallyand cooked for himself. And then, for neighbours. Then strangers. Then friends of strangers. “Yo, this curry goat is banging,” someone said from a car window. That spark - a single compliment - fanned the flames.

Soon enough, he started Craig’s da Flava. At first, it was unlicensed, unplanned, and unsustainable. A man on Facebook kept threatening to report him. So Craig did what many dreamers never do: he got legit. Called Breckland Council, registered, learned food safety, and turned a back-garden side hustle into a business.

From the Shop Floor to the Streets

Craig’s charisma had already caught attention while working at Fine Foods. He greeted every customer like family. That spirit followed him into his food venture. People remembered the smile. Then they remembered the food.

Support came from unexpected places. Ben and Awa, started delivering meals. Adam, a barber, joined in the kitchen. They weren’t chefs - but they were community. They helped build something out of nothing. No kitchen? Cook anyway. No delivery driver? Find one. Need to get out of the house after separation? Sleep on a friend’s sofa. Move. Reboot. Hustle again.

Breakdown and Resurrection

The separation in 2022 devastated him. Not just emotionally, but practically. He lost his house. His kids noticed the change - his son asked, “Dad, how come you never smile anymore?” That broke him.

Centre Parcs became his job. Cleaning was okay. But working in the Pancake Kitchen was a low point. “The worst experience I’ve ever had,” he said, fighting tears. Dismissed, belittled, and pushed toward a breakdown, he eventually stopped taking his medication. Spiraled. Drank. Cried. Questioned everything.

But there was one constant that didn’t let go: Rachel.

Rachel: The Backbone of the Rebirth

Rachel wasn’t just a new partner. She became the logistics manager, brand strategist, kitchen assistant, motivator, and emotional anchor. When he was on the verge of giving up - again - she kicked the doors open. When he had no money to restart Craig’s da Flavour, she won £650 in a raffle and handed it over. “Let’s go,” she said. “You’re too good to stop now.”

She created a one-menu strategy. “We’re not begging anyone,” she said. “Let the food speak for itself.” It did. Customers returned. Word spread. Craig’s da Flava wasn’t just back - it was rising like never before.

“The Conservative Club Changed Everything”

After a rocky road of being booted from kitchens, sharing spaces, or cooking illegally, the Conservative Club finally gave Craig something priceless: stability. Tom, the manager, gave him a kitchen - and a contract. Security.

Craig da Flava flourished. Friday through Sunday, he Unit 5 Faraday Place, Thetford, Norfolk IP24 3RG 01842 337447

cooked. He smiled. He loved again. Because this time, it wasn’t just food - it was family, community, pride. His kids pitched in. Rachel helped. And people came in droves.

Four months in, they were selling out. Local newspapers caught on. The story was finally turning.

Full Circle: From Grandad’s Stove to Business Awards

In February, Craig made a comment to Rachel: “Do you think I could win a business award one day?” She didn’t blink. “Of course you could.”

He did.

In a full-circle moment of poetic justice, the man who once had £85 to his name — trading collectibles just to buy ingredients - was now an award-winning entrepreneur. His food, his vibe, his smile - they told the full story without needing to say a word.

But here’s the thing about Craig: he will tell the story. Every person who helped him, every betrayal, every low, every moment of joy — he speaks on it. Not for pity, but for proof.

Proof that dreams built in council kitchens, fuelled by resilience and love, can absolutely come true.

Advice from Craig: Never Give Up

“Keep on going,” he says. “Even if the road gets blocked, even if people doubt you, even if you lose everything. Keep saying it out loud: ‘I’m going to make it.’ Say it until it manifests. And cook with love. Always cook with love.”

Because in the end, Craig isn’t just selling food. He’s selling joy. He’s selling legacy. He’s serving every plate with a side of survival.

And if you ever forget how far he’s come, just ask what started it all.

He’ll smile and say, “I just wanted some barbecue wings.”

Craig’s da Flava. Born from hustle. Cooked with heart. Served with soul.

Photograph

‘Katie Bird’ by Mangus

Katie Bird

A Champion for the Arts and Community in Thetford

Written by Dave Griffiths

Ihave known Katie for over 10 years now, first meeting her at the drop off and pick up of my son at Stagecoach in Bury St Edmunds, where she worked as a drama teacher. She was fantastic with the youngsters who all worshipped her. It’s easy to jump to a lazy first opinion of someone and to my embarrassment now, I formed an impression of Katie back then that barely scratches the surface of what she is all about. I have discovered over the years more and more of the powerhouse of creativity and caring that she is. Let me be a “Ghost of Christmas Past” and show you what I’ve discovered by providing a window into her world.

Katie’s love of performance started very young. She attributes that to her adored father who, whilst he never had the opportunity to tread the boards, was very much the performer and

joker in family life. Her first stage role was as a Robin in a primary school nativity play. Her legendary charm and powers of persuasion also trace back to those primary school days, when her and a few friends managed to persuade her history teacher to do a round of assessments as plays. If you know Katie, just close your eyes and I bet to can picture the scene pretty accurately! I sense the die was cast then and that the performing arts were always going to be a big part of her future. She performed all through school, and it was no great surprise that she chose to study Drama, Community Theatre and Media at degree level.

But another of Katie’s stand-out attributes played out alongside her love of the performing arts and it had a big influence on the direction she took. I have never known anyone even

close to as empathetic as Katie. She can sense someone’s mood in an instant and has an amazing talent for knowing what someone needs to hear or what support they need. She can walk into a room and immediately sense the mood and energy. This can be a curse in a hostile environment, but in dealing with individuals and groups, in communicating, coaching and supporting, it is a super strength. Adding her love of performance and the arts to this desire to help, support and better peoples’ lives, and you have a powerful mix. She believes drama has power to inspire far beyond the stage and the auditorium. It is a belief she has carried through much of her life.

Very much consistent with this belief, following her first-degree Katie enrolled in a Masters in Drama Therapy. She studied techniques that use drama to give people the tools and confidence to develop and improve their lives. As part of the course she worked with young offenders, in prisons and in women’s refuges, putting the techniques into practice.

Returning to Bury after her Masters, Katie became an Associate Artist at the Theatre Royal, and was later promoted to be their Youth Theatre Director. In parallel she taught drama at Stagecoach in Bury, busied herself with multiple outreach activities and was a driving force with the Barton Players amateur dramatics group.

Having moved home to Thetford, in 2019 Katie took the drama side of her work to the next level. She fulfilled a lifetime dream when she formed a professional theatre production company with her partner Craig Plumley, Magic Floor Productions. Things started slowly, amassing a group of likeminded folks and running

workshops. Just as the first performances were being planned, COVID struck, and we were all locked down. Many theatre groups folded over the next year or two, but as has become the way with Magic Floor, it adapted and started to find its identity. They took to Zoom with Monday night script read throughs, radio plays, building friendships and helping to keep everyone sane through dark times. As soon as lockdown was lifted, they staged what must have been the first performance in Thetford, an outdoor play Oliver Twist in the tennis courts of King’s House Gardens. Or rather the first act was in the gardens. Rain struck approaching the interval and the cast and audience carried the whole set to the Carnegie for the second half, such was the desire to see it through after so long without theatre. Adapt and grow had become the MFP slogan!

Over subsequent years, as well as stepping in to produce and direct the fabulous South Pacific Musical and Alice in Wonderland Panto for Thetford Players when they were suffering a temporary dearth of directing options, Katie and Craig grew the Magic Floor portfolio, staging a range of plays and experiences at all sorts of venues and in several formats. Alice In Wonderland, Christmas Carol, Hi De Hi, Bouncers, Meat, Witness for the Prosecution to name but a few. This August they will stage a gritty and compelling National Theatre play The Welkin, an absolute must see if you like something thought provoking with a local, historic context.

2023 saw MFP move to the next level by stepping into the full blown musical scene. In September that year they staged a brand-new Oliver Twist Musical and followed it in 2024 with the amazing Hunchback of Notre Dame. This

‘Oliver Twist’Katie BirdMFP’ by Mangus

May they brought Little Shop of Horrors to the Carnegie and in October, The Addams Family’s ancestors will rise from the dead to haunt Thetford. Next year has more fantastic musical treats in store. The quality of Katie and Craig’s production and direction is attracting evergrowing acclaim and a loyal following.

Katie’s work and creative life took turn in 2021 when she took up the role of Heritage and Events Deputy manager at the Carnegie/ Guildhall Complex. Along with the commercial side of arranging and running events, Katie led on delivering the aims and commitments of the National Lottery funded, Guildhall Project. This and the fabulous surroundings of the Guildhall were the catalyst for Katie and Craig fascination, bordering on obsession, with the amazing history and stories of Thetford. First came the retelling of the fabulous Holmes and Kable story through a new script and play. 18th century trial reenactments followed in the court room where they would have originally been held. Later came the Shadows of Thetford around Halloween time and a BFER commissioned Vikings of East Anglia play performed at Dragonfest. But plays only get exposed to adults, not youngsters. Youngsters gain so much of a sense of place and belonging from understanding their town’s history. And boy does Thetford have history! So, Katie wrote education packs for year 6 classes based on both Holmes & Kable and Vikings. The packs feature plays and visits to schools by the Magic Floor family volunteers part way through the course. They have been brilliantly received by teachers and pupils, providing days to remember for the youngsters. Their retention of facts and the questions they ask really challenge the prepared knowledge of the performing adults!

‘Meat’ Dress Rehearsal - Katie Bird - MFP’ Photography by Mangus

Part of the remit of the Heritage project was to establish a community choir, a writers group and a craft group for the community. These have all been super successful and still run today in one guise or another. The choir have performed at the last 3 Mayor makings, several TARA awards and other community events. The writers group started with about 5 original members. It’s something close to my heart as I was one of the original 5 and I only turned up because I didn’t want Katie to have an empty room! I had no pretensions of talent or a particular desire to write. But gentle encouragement to put pen to paper and an ever-supportive ear, meant that over time I became less terrified of admitting a piece was mine. I think several of us would have a similar tale to tell. Anyway, that writers group now forms the backbone of the “Reflections of Thetford Magazine” writing team. The craft group has also thrived meeting weekly and engaging in a variety of crafts. But the common theme across them all is community, friendship, extending yourself to try new things, support and mental wellbeing. Whether it’s singing big chorus numbers or embroidering a tablecloth together, it’s fundamentally about the same thing.

Thrown in amongst all these activities were the slightly more off the wall events that usually involved roping in the MFP volunteers. “Hey Dave, you fancy dressing up as Tom Hanks from Polar Express? we’ll build a carriage, and you can punch golden tickets for the youngsters and give out hot chocolate at the Christmas light switch on”. “Er, ok why not!”. Or “fancy being the potions master for a summer holiday, Harry Potter Experience”. “Why not!”. Both were great events as much for us grownups as kids. Then there were all the community celebrations and commemorations like VE Day and D-Day and

the Queens 70th Jubilee. Katie corralled MFP, writers group and choir volunteers to write plays and poems, to sing sets from the period and create experiences. All this honouring the great history of military service in the area, keeping those great sacrifices present in our minds.

Katie’s roots in drama therapy and its power to inspire play out in her other outreach activities. Around 5 years ago she set up a young offenders drama group in Stowmarket where they still meet weekly, talking, rehearsing, performing plays and together supporting each other as they work to leave the troubles of their past behind. She also has close links with the Meet Up Café. I remember fondly seeing youngsters from the café watching Alice in Wonderland and Christmas Carol in King’s House Gardens, transfixed by what they saw. Another more recent is a play put together after working with youngsters who had been sucked into the horrors of drugs and County Lines. The short play is aimed at primary aged youngsters, as that is the age group these gangs typically target. The performance uses drama to explain the risks and to help recognise the signs of grooming. Giving youngsters the tools make the right choices. At the other end of the age scale, Katie also organises events for the University of the Third Age (U3A); supporting community through drama, across all ages.

It is perhaps no surprise that Katie’s Stagecoach and Youth Theatre background led to her and Craig opening the Magic Floor Academy in 2022. As I remember around a dozen youngsters were in the first cohort. Quiet, nervous and awkward. Fast forward to today and most of that cohort are still there but the school overall has quadrupled in size. The nervous first cohort are

now confident (and may I say darned cheeky) young performers. Without question, their MFA experiences have been hugely positive in their development into young adults. Katie and Craig have always been very clear that the interaction between MFP adults and MFA youngsters is very important to them. Some adults appeared with MFA in their first performance in King’s House Gardens, MFA were Fagin’s gang in the Oliver Musical, the Cratchits in Christmas Carol and some are now coming through to play adult parts with MFP. The mixture of young and old keeps us oldies young and the youngsters interactions with the adults eases their path into the adult world.

In just the past few weeks, life took another turn for Katie as she took up an exciting new role at Riversdale House as the Creative Community Engagement Officer for the Keystone Development Trust. It seems from the outside a perfect fit for her skills and experience, with her desire to inspire the community through drama and the arts. Keystone has 3 centres in Thetford (Riversdale, the Abbeygate Centre and the KEF Factory), one in Brandon and one in Mildenhall. It has a mission to build community capital and is committed to empower individuals and groups to tackle the needs and issues in the community. The Little Piggies café on site at Riversdale is an excellent example of the Trust’s work where all the cafe’s profits are ploughed back in to provide meals each week for those who find they need support. But the Trust aspire to go a step further, not just providing support but providing the environment and resources to allow members of the community to form groups and initiatives for the good of the community. A much more sustainable model where scarce resources can lead to more amplified benefits.

Katie aspires to develop the centre into a Community and Arts Hub and certainly seems to have hit the ground running. I see a new 55 and over drama group has been launched recently encouraging those who have never had the opportunity to try drama to give it a go. As someone who didn’t step on a stage until 50 and now hardly ever leaves it, I’d thoroughly recommend you give it a go, you never know! And one thing is for sure, you’ll never find and more supportive, expert or professional teacher than Katie. She’s also overseen the clearing of an overgrown wooded area at the back of the centre with plans for seating both for general enjoyment and as a venue for smallscale pop-up drama and arts. Magic Floor have already booked the centre for this year’s, now traditional, version of Christmas Carol. You can be sure more will come thick and fast.

And so, as I run out of word count, I better draw to a close. I hope you can see there is a lot more to Katie than you might first assume. A seasoned theatre director, producer, Magic Floor cofounder, events manager, singer, actress, costume designer, events manager…… The list goes on. And all this with a passion for people and community. I’m reminded of that great lyric from Wicked, “because I knew you, I have been changed for good”. Well without doubt Thetford you have been changed for good through Katie’s efforts. But there is so much more to do. Please support the Keystone Development Trust at Riversdale and Katie and be part of it in any way you can. The community together can do great things, be part of yet more change for good!

Photographs ‘Thetford Fire Crew Training Night’

by Mangus

The Town’s Quiet Heroes

Life on Call in Thetford’s Fire Service

Written by Martin Angus

The alarm does not ring. It blares. Sharp, shrill, and undeniable. It can sound at 2pm or 2am— interrupting a dinner, cutting through the calm of a lazy weekend, or waking a firefighter from precious sleep. There is no time for hesitation. Within five minutes, boots are laced, uniforms donned, and the fire engine is rolling out the doors of Thetford Fire Station. This is life as an on-call firefighter. And in Thetford, Norfolk, a group of exceptional individuals live it every day.

A Calling Beyond Career

For many, firefighting is not a job. It is a vocation. It begins with a dream - often planted early in life and nurtured quietly until one day it refuses to be ignored.

Franeck, a temporary watch manager in Thetford and an Operational Support Officer in Kings Lynn, recalls the moment he realised he was meant for this path. “My dad was a firefighter for 24 years. I grew up seeing that red truck, those blue lights - it became part of my DNA,” he shares. “I got older and thought, ‘Why haven’t I followed my dream?’ And that was it. I never looked back.”

For others like Mike, it was a defining moment in history - 9/11 - that reignited a buried ambition. “I was welding at the time and just thought, ‘What am I doing?’ I went down to the station, asked how to join, and eventually got in. That was 2013. Twelve years later, I am still here.”

Russelll, who joined after seeing the camaraderie of fire crews while working as a contractor, says, “It was not just the big jobs that impressed me. It was how they operated, how tight the team was. I thought, I want to be part of something that matters.”

There is quiet determination in their voices, a recurring motif: They did not choose this life for glory, or for pay - they chose it to help. Behind each firefighter is a personal story of calling, sacrifice, and unwavering resolve.

On-Call: Life at a Moment’s Notice

On-call firefighting is a rare hybrid of dedication and disruption. These men and women are not stationed

Abbey Garage

at the firehouse all day. Instead, they live their regular lives—working day jobs, caring for children, shopping in Sainsbury’s - until the pager calls.

That call can come at the worst moment imaginable.

Steering, Suspension and Shock Absorbers

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“You could be halfway through cutting the grass,” Franeck says. “The washing machine is on, doors open, kids are home - and you just drop everything. Your life is paused. Completely. And that is hard, especially for your family.”

Ritchie Taylor, one of the station’s wellbeing champions, echoes that sentiment. “When you’re on call, even watching TV requires a contingency plan. You live in a constant state of readiness. People do not realise the strain that puts on your personal life.”

There is an expectation that on-call firefighters will live within five minutes of the station. When the pager activates, they race to the engine, suit up, and deploy - all within minutes. Unlike whole-time crews, they are not already waiting at the station. They could be picking up children, working in a factory, or, as in Darrell’s case, managing a group of schools across Norfolk.

“I have left my wife in the shop so many times,” Darrell laughs. “One moment we’re choosing tomatoes, the next I’m gone.”

“It’s not just about being physically close,” explains Jon, who balances family life with his fire service commitment. “It’s about having your life arranged so you can respond at a moment’s notice. That takes planning, sacrifice, and a lot of support from your loved ones.”

Spouses and children of firefighters carry part of the burden too. Kids get to know the sound of the pager, they know that when it goes off, dad has to go. And they understand why.

Training for the Worst, Hoping for the Best

To the untrained eye, firefighting looks chaotic. But beneath the roaring flames and flashing lights is a finely tuned orchestration of roles and procedures. The Officer in Charge (OIC) dynamically assesses the situation. The pump operator monitors water supplies. Two crew members, in full breathing apparatus (BA), might enter the building, while the Entry Control Officer monitors their progress from outside.

“You need to trust everyone on your crew with your life,” says Mike. “In BA, you’re going into pitch-black rooms filled with smoke. If your partner panics, if someone misses something - you do not walk out.”

Russelll, a firefighter since 2019, explains how trust is built. “We train together. Drill after drill, scenario after scenario. The consistency gives you confidence. So, when a real shout comes in, we know how each other moves.”

Training is continuous. Lectures, drills, weekend courses - all with the intention of ensuring the firefighters have the latest information. And while fire calls have decreased over the years, the scope of emergencies has grown. Vehicle collisions, medical assists, flood rescues, and chemical incidents are now part of the weekly rotation.

“Sometimes it’s two cars on a country road,” explains Jon. “Other times, it’s something from a disaster movie. You never know. That is why the training must be second nature.”

Many crew members also pursue specialist skills. Darrell, for example, is trained in water rescue. “We have rivers, lakes, floods. Knowing how to manage that scene is entirely different from a fire. It’s about reading water currents, understanding hypothermia, knowing when not to act.”

Training also evolves with innovative technology and methods. Thermal imaging cameras, digital incident reporting, and drone reconnaissance have become vital tools. “The job’s always changing,” says Franeck. “But the mission stays the same.”

The Toll of Trauma

While the role demands physical fitness, the emotional weight is heavier. Many of the hardest calls involve children, suicides, or fatal accidents. These leave invisible scars.

“I have seen CPR performed on people I could not save,” Franeck says softly. “Those are the moments that stay with you. Not because of failure, but because of humanity. You did everything right. But sometimes that is not enough.”

The team is open about the psychological toll of the job - and the evolving support networks now available. OK9, a canine-assisted support team, and TRiM (Trauma Risk Management) sessions offer critical relief after traumatic calls.

“You would be amazed,” says Ritchie. “A dog walking around the room after a bad shout - it gets people talking when they would not otherwise. It breaks the ice.”

Phoebe and Ritchie, Thetford’s wellbeing champions, have introduced yoga sessions, socialising outside of the workplace to help build our community, and peer mentoring to create a safe, supportive environment. “We can’t fix everything,” Ritchie says, “but we can make sure no one suffers in silence.”

And increasingly, the conversation around mental health is less taboo. Franeck recalls, “A decade ago, you just bottled it. Now, we debrief, we check in. That culture shift is saving lives.”

The Fire Within: Camaraderie, Cake, and Coping Walk into Thetford Fire Station on a drill night, and the atmosphere is electric. There’s laughter, humorous exchange, and the unmistakable aroma of teamwork. Camaraderie is not just a by-product - it is a necessity. “We’re a dysfunctional family,” jokes Mike. “We take the mick, we celebrate birthdays with cake, and if you mess up, it’s cake again.”

“There is a cake offence committee,” laughs Russelll. “You do something dumb - you bring donuts. You do something great - you still bring donuts.”

The humour helps. It balances out the darkness. “You need that coping humour sometimes,” Franeck admits. “You’re not being flippant. You are surviving. Light in the darkest moments is still light.”

But beneath the laughter is loyalty. Crew members show up for each other - in and out of uniform. When one firefighter lost a family member, others quietly covered their shifts. When a teammate fell ill, they organised meals and transport.

“It’s not just a station,” Darrell says. “It is a community within a community. And that bond is forged in the heat of real life.”

The Cost and the Gift

Being on-call is not a convenience. It demands personal sacrifice, from sleep to family dinners to emotional stability.

Ritchie reflects, “The hardest part is not running into a burning building. It is the nights after, lying in bed, thinking about what you have seen. The mind does not clock off when the pager does.”

The reward is rarely recognition. There are no medals for a well-handled false alarm or a safe return. But the reward lies in the impact.

“I have got no regrets,” says Darrell. “It is hard, but it is real. You do not save everyone. But sometimes, just sometimes, you give a family closure. You give someone a second chance.”

Russelll puts it simply: “You do it to make a difference. That is the job.”

A New Generation Needed

As Norfolk continues to grow, so too does the need for committed on-call firefighters. Recruitment drives are underway, but the challenges remain: balancing jobs, families, and life with the demands of service.

Jon offers encouragement for prospective recruits: “It is not for everyone. But if you think it might be for you - try. Because you will never know unless you do.”

And Franeck adds, “Follow your dream. If you have that calling, it will not leave you. Do not ignore it.”

Local employers also play a vital role. Businesses that allow staff to respond during work hours are critical. “They’re unsung heroes,” says Ritchie. “Without them, we could not function.”

Efforts to diversify the fire service are also ongoing. “We need more women, more voices from different communities,” says Ritchie. “Fire does not discriminateand neither should we.”

Legacy: More Than a Helmet

When asked how they want to be remembered, the answers are strikingly similar.

“A team player,” says Franeck. “Someone who looked after his crew.”

“Reliable,” says Ritchie. “Someone you could talk to.”

“Someone who did the job,” says Mike, “and made

people laugh.”

As this feature closes, one thing becomes clear: These men and women are not just responding to emergencies. They are living, breathing pillars of the Thetford community. They sacrifice comfort for courage, sleep for service, and time for the wellbeing of others.

They are Thetford’s quiet heroes.

And when the call comes, they answer.

Interested in joining the team?

Visit www.norfolkfireservice.gov.uk or attend a drill night at Thetford Fire Station to see the crew in action. You do not need to be perfect. You just need to care.

Interviews recorded on location, Thetford Fire Station

The Medusa Project Thetford

The

Courtyard

of the Ballads, Shooting the Shooter, and Laughing at the Leaderboard!

Photography, maps and written by Bob Blogg

Firstly: The Courtyard of the Ballads.

Are you sitting comfortably? Let me tell you a story. A year or so ago, a lovely little Portuguese shop in Castle Street closed its doors for ever.

Or so it seemed!

It was called O Pátio das Cantigas which translates rather wonderfully and poetically to The Courtyard of the Ballads.

Not only that, it was named after a classic Portuguese comedy film.

Sometimes translated as the Courtyard of Songs, it was released in 1942 and has become one of the most celebrated and beloved popular comedies in Portuguese cinema history.

Considered by all and sundry to be one of the masterpieces of Portuguese cinema.

Here’s a quick synopsis from Wikipedia: Set in a typical Lisbon courtyard, during the Popular Saints festivities, a handful of simple people live their daily lives, their dreams, disappointments, passions, jealousies, and joys in an almost enchanted atmosphere.

The plot, so I understand, is full of misunderstandings and double meanings.

It was remade in 2015 and I think I might check it out. I will probably need subtitles though.

I got so enchanted here myself that I almost forgot what I was talking about.

POWER CLEAN

“Nothing new there,” I hear you say!

Anyway, this evocatively named shop has been reborn.

It has moved across town from Castle Street to Minstergate and re-emerged as the equally evocatively named Monte Cristo.

I think it’s a brilliant transformation.

Now, I’m not sure why this name was chosen but I have identified at least two possible reasons that make some kind of sense.

The first is that it is named after the Monte Cristo sandwich.

After all, a sandwich is food and Monte Cristo is a food shop, but I am not convinced about this option. I can’t see the Portuguese owners naming their shop after a very suspicious fried ham and cheese sandwich, dipped in egg batter and served with powdered sugar and jam.

It was first documented in an American industry publication in 1923 and apparently become popular after being featured in a restaurant in Disneyland! I also think that if they wanted any credibility about their food, they wouldn’t want to be associated with the USA.

No offence intended to our American readership!

This is my second and most preferred option. I’d like to think that it was named after Alexandre Dumas’ great novel The Count of Monte Cristo. After all the novel is about transforming identity and seeking treasure, and I think that is what the new owners of this wonderful supermarket have done.

The old company was dissolved and the team got together and created a worthy successor.

You could not get into the old shop on any type of mobility scooter and it was very awkward to get into with a stick or crutches because of steps.

This new venue is now the most mobility scooter friendly shop in Thetford, with huge doors, wide aisles and easy check out desks. It has a great butchers, bakers, and probably candlestick makers for all I know! It has a large freezer section, loads of fresh veg and a large, easily navigable alcohol area.

There is a very large cheese counter, too.

It used to be the old Wilco store but you wouldn’t recognise it now. It has been given a minimalist, feng shui makeover and is spacious and bright.

The entrance is so wide you could drive a tank in there!

It truly is a worthy successor to that old Lisbon courtyard. Go and see for yourself.

Scan the QR code on the right to go In Search of the Counter at Monte Cristo

Secondly: Shooting the Shooter

In this magazine, you normally only see the polished results of Martin’s photo shoots.

And, stunning as they always are, what really goes on behind the scenes? What is happening off camera in the shadows and corners? Who is really in control?

Well, let’s find out!

I was lucky enough to be invited to attend the last issues Boudicca themed shoot that took place at Riversdale in Tanner Street on the 18th of May, 2025. So, I got all excited, jumped on my trusty boot mobility scooter, Tiglet, strapped on some cameras and off I went.

It was a real eye-opener and it really showed the

amount of hard work and professionalism that goes into producing the content that goes into this magazine. Obviously, I’m not talking about myself, I just waffle around waving a camera at anything that moves or, in most cases, doesn’t!

But this photo shoot was a proper one. There was a dedicated team.

Firstly there were the models Emma and Charlotte, who were dressed wonderfully in clothing of the period (Editors note - thank you Magic Floor Productions).

They had endless patience as this strange man in baggy trousers kept jumping about and pointing his lens at them, and his finger, deciding who was going to kill who, and alternatively passing them a spear or a sword.

And then there was Liz Gibbons, the historian.

She is full of enthusiasm and as bubbly as a champagne bottle in a blender.

She made it real: the clothing, the makeup, the hair, the jewellery and the weapons all had her attention. She also choreographed the scene with style, panache and, more importantly, with deep knowledge of the subject.

If you haven’t read her article, Boudica Rising in the last issue, you are really missing out. That doesn’t mean Martin was surplus to requirements! They both worked as a harmonious team.

Most important of all, Martin took the photographs and delivered them to our door!

And if anyone observant among you and noticed that I spelt Boudicca with two Cs the first time and now I have used only one, that is because She is most commonly spelled with two Cs but one C is more often used in academic contexts.

I only found this out because I noticed that the front cover of issue 9 had Boudicca Queen and Warrior on it, but Boudica Rising is the title of Liz’s story about the queen and her legend. I obviously assumed that Martin had made a typo!

Let’s pause a moment and look at where we are filming and photographing.

The location was perfect.

Right by the river Thet exactly where Boudica could have camped at some point in her life.

She could have been hunting wild boar, ala Asterix and

Obelix over in Gaul, and enjoying a bacon sandwich. With apologies to Lord Sandwich, but I really don’t think he was the first person to stick a slice of meat in a bread roll!

It would have been simple unleavened bread and probably quite gritty; however after the invasion from about AD 43, the roman’s introduced more refined bread making techniques. Maybe that’s the real reason Boudica went to war. She wanted to nick their sourdough recipes!

I’m sure Liz will correct me if I’m wrong.

Anyway, I got a bit side tracked there.

Martin, he is the real star of the show. He is the one that makes it all happen. He got everyone together, developed the ideas, arranged the shoot, set up the lighting, edited and produced the finished product.

Watching him at work was fascinating. He was zooming in close, jumping backwards, changing angles, lifting the camera up and taking it down.

It is a surprisingly energetic pastime and I thought it was great fun.

I couldn’t help but be reminded of the group Madness though, as Martin took shot after shot in his baggy trousers with the outline of his phone in his back pocket.

At least I hope it was a phone!

I decided in the end though that Eric Capton’s I shot the Sherriff was a more apt soundtrack.

Scan the QR code to have a peak behind the scenes.

Shooting the Shooter

Finally: Laughing at the Leaderboard.

Laughing is probably not the exact word for what we were doing at the Leaderboard.

Giggling maniacally is perhaps more apt or shouting angrily or swearing profusely, even bursting into tears!

Well, we had our jolly road trip to Warren Lodge a few months ago on these mobility scooters, but which one is the best?

Is it Adrian’s TGA Breeze S4 or my Pride Colt Executive?

Obviously we couldn’t agree between us so we decided it was time to take them over the Gravel Sea and around our Nuns’ Axe and Triangle Mobility Scooter Test Track.

The Gravel Sea is a section of a new development in Thetford whose looping access road has been filled with tons and tons of gravel. And I mean tons!

It is normally done as a cheap alternative to having to create a proper road of asphalt or tarmac. Although, I can’t see that shipping in enough aggregate to landscape half of Norfolk is an economical solution. Very few mobility scooters would have enough traction to make it around the loop without floundering and spitting stones everywhere, wheels spinning uselessly.

But, both of our scooters made it in style as we slalomed like Olympic medal winning skiers around the course.

So nothing to between the Breeze and the Colt yet!

Next: on to Acceleration Avenue.

Which mobility scooter was going to be fastest getting to 8 mph and what about braking? Would someone end up swimming in the Little River Ouse, red in the face and snorkelling in search of their soggy scooter?

After three acceleration runs each and two braking tests, no one had ended up in the river, boring I know, but a slight gap was appearing between these magnificent machines.

Split seconds only, but my Colt did reach 8.5 mph before slamming on the brakes.

That’s when the arguments started. Adrian claiming loudly he had reached 9 mph, me saying the speedo cam disagreed!

Our friend Peter was there as an assistant camera operator, he helped us film at the Nunnery Lakes last year although he mostly filmed his T shirt then!

Anyway, he separated us and calmed us down; me grinning happily and Adrian crying and accusing me of cheating.

Now it was time for the real test: the timed laps around our test track.

For this we called in an extra assistant camera operator. Her name is Nikki Ward.

She was borrowing a couple of our cameras. So we lent her two of our hard working cameras that we thought deserved a holiday exploring the coral reefs around the island of Vilamendhoo in the Maldives!

Anyway, we roped her in as it was a good opportunity to for her to learn how the cameras worked before

she dived into the Indian Ocean. She’s also my ex wife by the way, but we are still good friends.

We come, at last, to the laps. Adrian was off first on his TGA Breeze S4.

He claims he was hampered by dogs, little girls, mums and dads around Bambi Bend, but some of our viewers have asked for a stewards’ enquiry, claiming he jumped the start line!

Now it was my turn on my trusty Pride Colt Executive. It did very well in the first section whizzing over the Nuns’ Crossing and along Washboard Way, leaving Adrian chasing behind as he tried to catch up and film me.

But I did get a bit side tracked going up Off-road Alley when my gimbal went crooked and I had to dodge a mum walking her kids down the Dog’s Run.

So we both had obstacles to avoid.

On the day, when we had both finished our laps, we had no idea who was fastest. It wasn’t until we got back to the studio that we could check who was fastest across the finish line as we looked at the footage frame by frame.

That’s when all the arguments, tears and recriminations started!

You can watch the whole saga here. Believe it or not, we actually review the scooters as well.

Scan the QR code above right and then the one on the bottom right; otherwise you will know the result before you have watched the game, so to speak.

Happy scootering.

A Collaboration Photoshoot

This edition’s collaboration was inspired by the haunting tales surrounding Betty Radcliffe. Betty was either the hotel owner or its landlady in the 18th century when a quarrel with her lover ended her life. Some say she jumped out of a window, others say she was pushed.

They quarrelled in room 29 and guests have seen her standing at its window or felt her presence there. At night, ghostly housekeeping takes place, pillows are moved and curtains drawn. Guests hear keys clinking and skirts swishing as Betty does her rounds.

Location - Room 29 The Bell Hotel, Thetford www.greenekinginns.co.uk

Costume - Magic Floor Productions www.magicfloorproductions.co.uk

Jewellery - Chloe’s Jewellers Thetford www.chloesjewellers.co.uk

Props - Instinctively Mystical, 2 Bridge Street www.instinctivelymystical.co.uk

Model - Mia Londyn @mialondyn

Photography - Martin Angus @mangus.co.uk

The Bell Hotel, a principal coaching inn on the London to Norwich mail coach route. Originally constructed circa 1493, a two story timber framed building, which has undergone many alterations over the centuries. The first floor was at one time open plan and served as a dancing hall. With King’s House just over the road, and with tunnels connecting the two buildings, who knows who’s dancing shoes graced these floorboards.

Photographs‘Julie Dean’ by Mangus

The Riverside Kiosk

A café with community at its heart

Written by Liz Gibbons

Nestled along the bank of the River Ouse, just behind Thetford Library and School Lane

Doctor’s Surgery, stands a small charming mock-Tudor building. This is The Riverside Kiosk, a seasonal, open-air café that radiates warmth not only from its freshly grilled paninis and steaming cups of tea, but from the heart and soul of its owner, Julie. She is not alone though, her daughter-in-law Keely, helps her with the day-to-day tasks.

“I had no grand plan to open a café,” Julie freely admits. “It was a sort of spur-of-the-moment thing. During lockdown, I’d walk past the Kiosk nearly every day and noticed it hadn’t re-opened. I was fed up with my job at the time and thought, maybe this could be something different. A new project. Something I could do with my family.”

Julie, a passionate home baker and lifelong lover of simple, comforting food, envisioned a humble place where her cakes could be shared and could involve her family. “The idea in the beginning was for me to

bake cakes and sell them from the Kiosk but with all the food choices we offer as well as general running of the café I quickly found that I did not have time.” Julie was able to adapt however and found what worked for the business. “We’ve been there three years now,” she says. “Keely and I work really well together. It’s a tiny space, so you have to be in sync, and luckily, we are. It just works naturally.”

Julie re-opened The Riverside Kiosk on 4th June 2022. Three years in and with a recently renewed lease, Julie and Keely are still enthused and love the connection with their customers. Reminiscing, Julie takes me back to the beginning. “When we first opened, we really hit the ground running. We’d just come back from a family holiday in Cornwall and opened two days later,” Julie recalls. “We haven’t really stopped since. Each year we get more visitors, more regulars. The business has grown far beyond what I expected.” Julie goes on to say, “I think a lot of people don’t realise the Kiosk exists, but once they come down, they keep coming back because it’s got

such a lovely vibe. And we have regular customers who arrive at the same time every morning and have their coffee.”

Being an outdoor space, The Riverside Kiosk is subjected to the whims of the weather. “We only close if it’s absolutely pouring with rain,” Julie explains. “And now we’ve got sails strung up in the trees, people can shelter if there’s a bit of drizzle or have some shade when it gets too hot.”

These little adjustments reflect the flexibility and warmth that characterise Julie and Keely’s approach. The location and nature of an alfresco business means that the Kiosk gets a lovely range of customers. From dog walkers, families, ramblers and even individuals looking for a welcoming environment. “Last year, due to the mild weather” Julie reveals, “we stayed open through to December as lots of people were still coming along, making it worthwhile.”

When asked how to describe the personality of the café, Julie considers thoughtfully. “It’s a very community-minded space, more than I expected, to be honest. Groups use it regularly, the U3A walking group stops by every Monday, and they’ve grown in number. They walk, then come for coffee and cake, sometimes lunch. We also get care home residents, people in wheelchairs and with disabilities because it’s flat and easy to access. And being amongst nature, the river seems to have a lovely calming effect on people.”

The café’s community charm has evolved over time into something even more personal. “We have lots of regular customers, and we get to know them, not just their orders.” The Riverside Kiosk is a place of comfort and routine for many of the patrons. “Just recently, one of our regular ladies hadn’t been along for a while and we got worried. We found out that she had broken her arm so we visited her to make sure

she was okay and let her know that we had been thinking of her.”

The menu at The Riverside Kiosk is simple fare but it offers a surprising range for such a small operation. “It always surprises people how much we do in such a tiny space,” Julie tells me with delight. “We do paninis, salmon bagels, crumpets, focaccia bread, cakes, icecream, hot and cold drinks. Our current best seller, which surprised us, is cheese on toast with chutney. Even during the summer heatwave, our customers couldn’t get enough of it!”

Wherever possible, the café supports local products and produce. “We’ve recently started to stock Ronaldo’s ice cream, which is made in Norwich. It’s a huge hit,” Julie says. During the summertime, Julie supports the local allotment growers. “We pop in some money to the chosen charity to buy things like tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuces, things that are appropriate for us to use in things like our sandwiches.” The local growers also bring along flowers as well as their fruit and vegetables. Julie elaborates, “We don’t sell them of course, but people can make a donation for the local hospice. Last year, we raised £756 through that.”

This blend of generosity and practicality defines Julie’s approach. “We buy what we can use straightaway. There’s no space to store stock but with a high turnover it guarantees that everything is fresh.” While it means Julie and Keely are constantly re-stocking and keeping up with orders in a tight space, the challenges are all worth it. “We’re always lifting heavy crates of stuff but the outcome is really rewarding. The people know us and we know them, there is such a wonderful sense of community and we both love it.”

The bond between the café and its patrons runs deep. “Keely and my son Frankie got married last

year,” Julie shares, “and some of our regulars were invited to the wedding. That’s the level of connection we’re talking about.”

Children who once visited with their parents now bring along their own children. “We’ve had people come down and say, ‘I used to bring my little ones here when Wendy ran it.’ It’s full-circle stuff. That’s why, when my grandchildren are older, I hope they’ll work Saturdays with us.” It’s a true family-run business, rooted in tradition and full of heart.

Julie credits much of her success not only to her family but to the community that welcomed her with open arms. “People don’t realise how lovely this town is until you work with the public every day. The people here are amazing.”

And she has not forgotten the roots of the business. “A huge thank you has to go to Wendy Raphael.” Wendy, the previous owner, ran the Kiosk for 19 years before Julie took over. “She gave me advice and support when I was taking over the lease. That meant so much.”

As for what’s next, Julie hopes to keep going as long as the Kiosk continues to thrive. “It’s hard work, probably physically it’s the hardest job I’ve ever done, but I love it. If you love what you’re doing and with so many lovely people, they make it all worth it.”

In a world where café chains and takeaway culture often dominate, The Riverside Kiosk is a rare breed, not just a coffee stop, but a local landmark, a place of joy and connection beside the river. It’s a place where people remember your name, your usual order, and go that extra mile of making sure you are okay. That, perhaps, is the true magic of this humble riverside café, not just freshly ground coffee or cheese toasties, but care, connection, and community served daily.

‘Keely and Julie’ Photography by Mangus

Photograph of the service of thanksgiving held on Sunday 19th August 1945 in the Market Place.

Victory in Japan, 80th Commemoration

Further stories of those who served in the forgotten army.

Written by Sandra Starling

Photography by Sandra Starling

Within minutes of Prime Minister Atlee’s midnight radio broadcast, that the war was now finally over, Thetford erupted. Klaxon horns and other bells clanging could be heard as motor vehicles travelled around the town celebrating the good news. A bonfire was lit in the market place using waste paper and old tyres and the sky was further illuminated by the discharge of flares and fireworks along with bonfires lit by neighbouring air stations. It was close to 4 a.m. before the town quietened down and people could get some sleep.

That new day, Wednesday 15th August 1945 and the following day, Thursday 16th, were declared a holiday to celebrate Victory in Japan.

For those that lived in the centre of the town, the early morning air was a mix of acrid smoke from the bonfire and newly baked bread: the bakers

were essentially the only shops that opened and they did so to large queues.

Later that morning, bunting and flags were hung in celebration, just as they had been for V.E. Day. Services of thanksgiving took place throughout the day and evening at all places of worship: St. Peter’s Church was lit up with the flag of St. George fluttering in the breeze from the top of its tower.

Meanwhile, London was getting ready for the State Opening of Parliament. The ceremony, curtailed during the war years, was still a dressdown occasion: the King wore his Admiral’s uniform but there was a return of the carriage procession. Large crowds had begun to appear and it became an even greater occasion as people celebrated the joyous news that Japan had surrendered. Later that day the newly elected Prime Minister

Clement Attlee, in his first speech to Parliament, informed them, “The last of our enemies is laid low”.

Back in Thetford, the highlight of the celebrations was a torchlight procession that travelled from the Guildhall through town to Castle Park. Four year-old George Angus jnr, living in Castle Street, watched a large crowd of people follow the torch bearers as it passed his home. His mother then took his older sister Doris and himself to Castle Park where they watched the bonfire that had been lit in the park opposite the Albion Public House. As with the bonfire in the market place earlier that day, it was kept alight with old tyres. Another young person who remembered the bonfire was Anne Pearson: as a toddler she was taken to the park by her mother in her pushchair.

Whilst Thetford celebrated there were families including the Anguses and Pearson’s whose husbands, fathers, sons and brothers were prisoners of war in the Far East in places including Singapore, Thailand and Japan. Most families did not know whether these men were still alive and were anxiously waiting for news of their loved ones.

By August 1945, Japan held ten thousand allied prisoners of war, amongst them were nine from Thetford including, George Angus, William (Bill) Massingham, George Mower, Cyril Pearson and Thomas (Tom) Smith. Although they had joined various regiments, they were all part of the 18th Division and some of them were in Singapore when it fell in February 1942.

In November 1942, George Angus and Tom Smith were sent to Formosa, now known as Taiwan. They were there for just over two years before being moved to Japan. Others had spent the first two years of captivity working in Thailand on what

Wooden tag issued by the Japanese to place on a board prior to entering the coal

mine at Omine.

became known as the Death Railway, including George Mower and Cyril Pearson. They had been transported to Thailand in steel freight wagons used for carrying rice. Between thirty five and forty men were crammed into the wagons. There was no room to sit much less to sleep: they took it in turns to sit and at night they had to sleep on top of one another. A sliding door on the starboard side was left open for light and ventilation. The jungle heat caused the wagons to be oven-hot during the day and freezing cold at night. There were few stops for toilet breaks, food or water. They would endure five days in these wagons before reaching Ban Pong, Thailand. The journey back to Singapore, when it came, was the same except that the wagons were less full. On arrival back in Singapore in June 1944, George and Cyril must have thought the worst was over but later that month they found themselves once again on the move, this time to Japan.

The journey to Formosa and Japan was the same for all of them: shoved into the holds of old, rusting ships known by the troops as Hell Ships. George Angus described the journey, “Seven hundred left the [Singapore] docks in a ship oddly named ‘England Maru’. Our quarters were in the hold. Hardly room to move about, it was terrible. We were only allowed on deck to use the latrines.” [ ] “Dysentery broke out amongst us and four died. They were buried at sea”.

George Mower’s journey in the Hell Ship, Hoka Maru, was more dramatic. Having left Singapore docks on the 27th June 1944, the ship broke down in Borneo. Once repaired the ship sailed for Manila Bay. After an eight week stop-over in Manila, they set sail in a convoy of seven ships. The following day the convoy was attacked by American carrier torpedo planes. The Hoka Maru was hit three times and sank almost immediately. George

Mower clung on to a piece of wreckage and after approximately seven hours in the water, he was picked up by a Japanese armed fishing boat. He found himself back in Manila where he was placed in the island’s prison. Of the 1,200 personnel on board only 257 survived.

In October, he left Manila on a coal boat arriving in Formosa in early November. In the following January he was shipped to Nagasaki, Japan, arriving on the 28th January 1945. He described the disembarkation, “The fit men went off first and carried and helped off the sick. No priority was given to the sick men”.

Others from Thetford were already in Japan, including Bill Massingham and Cyril Pearson. In March 1945, George Angus and Tom Smith also arrived in Japan. On the journey from Fermosa, George came across Tom. He barely recognised him: Tom’s body was disfigured by sores. George Angus was then placed in a camp in the mountainous area of Omine approximately forty miles from Nagasaki. On his arrival at the camp, prisoners stared at him: his body had taken on a rusty colour as a result of working for over two years in the notorious copper mine in Kinksaseki. He would now be working shifts in a coal mine.

With the exception of George Angus, the locations of the camps to which the others were sent is not exactly clear. Apart from Cyril Pearson, who was sent to work in a metal refining factory, the others also worked shifts in coal mines.

On the morning of the 9th August, Tom was working in a coal mine when he felt a deep thud. Others were above ground and witnessed a brilliant white flash stretch across the horizon. Bill Massingham described the moment, “there was a brilliant white flash and then the sky darkened.

The earth trembled and the birds stopped singing”. This strange phenomenon left Bill and his fellow prisoners bewildered: they could not comprehend what had happened. In the hours that followed, they speculated on whether it was an earthquake or perhaps the invasion of Japan had started.

George Angus recalled how the following day, the 10th August, guards in his camp in Omine appeared nervous and edgy. Prisoners who were upstairs shouted to George and others to, “Come upstairs and have a look outside”. George added, “Naturally we dashed up and it seemed the sky was on fire as far as we could see. Everything was burning. We did not know the atom bomb had been dropped.”

On the 15th August, as the morning progressed, Bill Massingham noticed that the trains had stopped running and the factories had become silent. Speculation had began to grow that perhaps the invasion of Japan had started. What Bill and his fellow prisoners didn’t know was that all Japanese citizens had been ordered to listen to a radio broadcast that would be given by the Emperor of Japan at midday. In his message, the Emperor told them of Japan’s unconditional surrender - the war was now over.

Later that day the camp Commandant, through his interpreter, ordered the prisoners on to the parade ground. He told them that the war was now over and instructed them to remain in the camp and to wait for the American troops to arrive. The Commandant then left the parade ground with his interpreter, and they were never seen again. After a period of stunned silence cheers broke out and tears flowed. The three long years of brutal slave labour, beatings and hunger were finally over.

On the same day, strong rumours began to

circulate around the Omine camps that the war was finished. And as if to reinforce the rumours they were not sent down the mine that day: there was an easier atmosphere around the camp from that moment on. However, they were not officially told the news until the 20th August.

On the 26th August, American planes began passing overhead. The prisoners painted in capital letters POW on the roofs of their camps. To further assist the planes in finding those held in Omine, pieces of mirror were used to reflect light to attract the planes which then dropped packages of food and clothing. On receiving the clothing, some prisoners would leave the Omine camps and use it to barter for food with local people. The clothing was far too big for prisoners who were now skin and bone as a result of living on small portions of rice and little else for over three years.

In a seemingly extraordinary act of kindness, the local chief of police invited George Angus and three of his friends to his house where they were fed by his family. George was then presented with a reel of silk. It is not known what lay behind the gift, perhaps it was a gesture of friendship.

Four weeks after the prisoners had been informed that the war was over, American troops began to arrive at the camps. On the slow train journey to the port at Nagasaki, where ships were waiting to take them home, the now ex-prisoners of war saw for themselves the destruction caused by the atomic bomb. Whilst rumours had circulated as to the damage caused, they were not prepared for the total devastation that they saw and these scenes stayed with them for the rest of their lives.

On the 22nd September, George Angus was on one of the trains heading for the port. He described seeing trees that looked like burnt

matches adding, “There was just one concrete building standing and three chimneys left standing, one of which had bent into an arch with the heat” and “Everything was black”. He also spoke of the long lines of people queuing for rice. He threw his rations out of the train, as did others. The food landed at the feet of those in the queue but he saw that they did not pick it up and wondered if they felt hatred or perhaps were too proud. Arriving at the port, he boarded an aircraft carrier and received his “first proper meal in over three years”.

They all arrived home in dribs and drabs. Bill Massingham’s journey was not without its drama. Shortly after setting sail on the 14th September, the ship hit a typhoon. It was Bill’s second experience of such weather phenomena, the first having been en route to Japan. He arrived home on the 30th September. George Mower travelled via Vancouver on HMS Implacable and arrived in Southampton on the 11th October. George Angus’s journey home was via Canada and America, as was Cyril Pearson’s. Recuperation was the reason given for the stops and they arrived home in early November armed with American chocolate for their children whom that they had not seen for close on four years or had not seen at all if they were born after their fathers set sail in autumn 1941.

We hear so many stories about events in World War Two and the bravery of those who were unlucky enough to be involved, but what happened to the prisoners of war in the far east do not get much attention. With these experiences rapidly fading from living memory it is vitally important that the rest of us use commemorations like VJ Day to keep them in the public consciousness.

A postcard of the ship George Mower travelled home on via Vancouver to Southampton.

There will be a VJ 80 Commemoration Service, on 15th August 2025 at The Methodist Church, Tanner Street, Thetford at 10:30a.m.

followed by Wreath Laying Ceremony at the War Memorial on The Market Place Re turning to The Methodist Church for light refreshments

At 2.30p.m.

Wreath Laying Ceremony at the FEPOW Memorial Nun’s Bridges

Photograph ‘Drinking Water’Breckland Cat Protection

Breckland Cat Protection

Drinking Water and Keeping Cool

Written by Rita Thompson

Cats need fresh, clean and cool drinking water to keep them hydrated and healthy. Water is necessary for good circulation, digestion and bowel movements. Although cats don’t drink large amounts, hydration is vital for their survival. It’s important to remember that milk, cream or any other liquid is no substitute for water in a cat’s diet. In fact, many cats are lactose intolerant, which means they have difficulty digesting dairy products. Drinking milk could make them unwell.

Cats drink water in a fascinating way. They extend the tip of their tongue to the water’s surface, curling it backwards so only the top touches the liquid. Then, they retract their tongue at speeds of nearly 80cm per second, brining water with it. The water molecules stick to the tongue and each other forming a column that reaches their mouth. Cats catch the top of this column without getting their chin wet. They

can only lap up a small amount of water each time, but as they can lap at an impressive rate of four laps per second, it is an efficient and neat way to quench their thirst .

The amount of water cats need to drink varies depending on their age and weight. Kittens up to 3 months old (weighing 1.4kg), need 70ml a day. Six month old kittens (weighing 2.7kg) need 135ml a day. Medium cat weighing 4kg need 200ml a day and large cats weighing 6kg 300nl a day.

Signs of dehydration include – lethargy, panting, refusal to eat, sunken eyes and dry or sticky gums. Excessive drinking (also known as polydipsia) can indicate health problems like diabetes, kidney disease or hyperthyroidism, leading to increased peeing. If your cat drinks more than usual, consult your vet to rule out serious conditions.

Tips to encourage your cat to drink more are refilling their water bowl daily, place bowls throughout the house, try a different water bowl, try a water fountain, keep water and litter trays separate, separate the food bowl too. Switch to wet food and add some flavour such as tuna juice from tuna packed in water, (not oil), or add chicken broth which will make the water more enticing for your cat. Just make sure the flavouring doesn’t include too much salt as this is unhealthy for your cat.

In a survey carried out by the British Veterinary Association last year, it was found that half of all vets treated animals for conditions relating to hot weather, such as heat stroke.

Now that summer is here, its important to keep your cat cool. Cats with white fur, especially on their head, are in danger of getting skin cancer on ears and noses. You can use a sunblock on their most sensitive parts, but check with your vet first about a safe one to use. Try to keep them indoors between 10am and 3pm when the sun is hottest. Make sure there is lots of shade both indoors and outside providing bushes outside and boxes indoors. Keep curtains closed to keep your house cooler.

Hydration is the key. Clean fresh drinking water is important. Place lots of bowls away from their food bowls and don’t use plastic bowls, use ceramic, glass or metal instead. Use large bowls with a big surface area and keep it topped up so that the cat doesn’t have to bend down too far. Cats like running water, and may prefer a water fountain. Keep lots of fans in different places indoors. You could fill a bottle with water and freeze it, and then place it wrapped in a towel in the cats bedding, making sure that they can get away from it and that the bottle doesn’t leak.

If you are having a barbecue, please remember than open flames are a risk to all animals. Don’t leave the barbecue unattended and cover the grill while it is cooling down. Don’t feed a cat from the barbecue as you don’t want them around that area which may encourage the cat to come back for more food.

Keep onions, garlic and chives out of reach as they are toxic to cats. It might be best to set up a safe place for your cat indoors, as he might not appreciate having lots of visitors as you do.

For help or advice or it you need assistance with the cost of neutering, please call us on 01842 810018.

‘Albert displaying Thetford’s Treasures’ by Stephanie Downes

Thetford Treasure Trail

... an enjoyable few hours

Written by and Photography by Stephanie Downes

Irecently spent an enjoyable few hours completing the Thetford Treasure Trail. I’d already completed six other trails previously and found that they are a great way to explore places and see details that you might not have noticed before, you can even learn some interesting facts along the way, so I decided to try the Thetford trail.

The trails can be purchased from www. treasuretrails.co.uk and can be completed on the app, printed out at home or a booklet can be posted to you, unfortunately there are no local stockists selling the booklets at the moment. If you are not local there is extra information about where to park, for Thetford they recommend the Tanner Street car park (IP24 2BQ).

This particular trail has a spy theme, it is 2.2 miles long and takes roughly 2hrs 30minutes, if you are using the booklet version don’t forget to bring a pen to record your answers.

To begin the trail we headed to the Market Place and followed the instructions to locate the first clue, this one was straight forward and we recorded the answer in the grid at the back of the booklet. We then followed the directions towards clue number 2, it’s best to take your time reading the directions to make sure you are going the right way or that you don’t miss a clue.

As the trail continued it took us down some quieter streets as well as down the busier King Street, when you reach Minstergate there is the option of visiting the Priory which isn’t part of the

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trail but is always worth exploring. Some of the clues can be a little more challenging and take a bit more time to solve but if you get really stuck there is help available through the website or App.

The lovely part about walking around Thetford was that there were plenty of benches along the trail to stop and have a rest on, you could even pack a picnic to take with you. Albert and Fergus also came along for the walk, luckily Thetford is generally very dog friendly which has been great in helping Fergus to gain more confidence as he can be a little nervous of new people/places.

This trail was a fantastic way to explore the town and as I mentioned before, there are facts dotted throughout the booklet so you might even learn something new such as the former name for Guildhall Street,the trails are also a great way to enjoy some physical and mental exercise while getting some fresh air.

Without giving away the exact route of the trail, we got to see so much of Thetford’s history such as the old Coffee Mill, Castle Hill, The Gaol, the old town stocks and Nether row with its distinctive flint cottages. We also saw four different statues along the route including the new Boudicca statue in the pocket park which has been created by The Carnegie. Albert and Fergus had the obligatory photo alongside Captain Mainwaring and we added to the number of people who over the years have wondered why Thomas Paine’s book is upside down (apparently to create a talking point).

Once we had completed the trail and entered all of the answers, we revealed a final four digit code which can then be entered into the monthly £100 prize draw.

Photograph ‘James at Putterfingers’ by Mangus

Putterfingers

Putting Thetford on the Map

Written by Joanne Lock

Niche is something distinct and often implies a specialized area in which to excel.

From their home in a non descript unit on an industrial estate no different from any other that you see around the UK, Putterfingers excel at what they do and during the past 11 years have grown to be the mini, crazy and adventure golf industry go-to for supplies and accessories.

Shipping their products as far afield as Europe, Africa and Australia, Putterfingers have well and truly put Thetford on the world map.

Mini golf courses with wooden obstacles such as tunnels, sloping or ramped surfaces and windmills are a familiar sight in our seaside resorts and towns as are the large wooden picture boards that you can put your face through for a photo opportunity

or as James who showed me around refers to them as face in the hole boards. Putterfingers belongs to a group made up of three companies and the production and printing of face in the hole boards happens to be one of many specialties that sister company Photo Cutouts has become known for.

In recent years the number of mini, adventure and crazy golf courses has increased in the UK. With the creation of inside crazy golf courses from junk yards, courses that glow in the dark with electronic scoring or ones with catapults, loops and conveyor belts or adventure golf courses where volcanoes, waterfalls, dinosaurs and pirate galleons are some of the things to be found when putting your way around. It is no longer a pastime reserved for when we are on holiday or spending time at the seaside, courses are now to be found in our cities, towns and some larger out of town shopping centres where they have

become part of the night life with DJs and cocktails.

According to YouGov UK surveys and polls, mini golf ranked as the 20th most popular physical activity and overall the 64th most popular activity and that’s just the UK. Then factor in crazy and adventure golf, you can understand why business is booming at Putterfingers.

Supplying novelty or branded golf balls and putters to venues worldwide is just part of the story, the team have put their creative heads together and have come up with other ways in which to make their offer more diverse by providing packages for different markets and ways to play mini golf anywhere.

There are courses to hire for events such as weddings, corporate team days and by schools which have been designed to fit onto a pallet for easy delivery to venues in a van. Utilising the services of sister company Photo Cutouts there is also the option to add some personalised wooden obstacles to the course, a nice touch for events such as weddings.

Pop up mini golf courses are also available to buy from a single putting green to a full 9 hole golf course, if you just want something small for your garden, a school or maybe looking to start a mobile business taking a pop up course to events such as festivals or fetes, then Putterfingers have it covered.

There are also a number of home golf packages, suitable for both indoor and outdoor use ranging from putting packs consisting of putters, balls and putting cups to a course in a bag which includes floor tiles, bumpers, obstacles, putters and balls. There is something for all budgets.

During my visit James was proud to show me the

wooden modular course elements that the team had been designing, developing and had started to build, which could be installed in parks, other public areas or in holiday parks for people to play on, much like the table tennis tables we occasionally come across in the public areas of cities or towns.

Mini golf is fun, accessible and inclusive for most people regardless of age, you don’t have to be sporty to play. It’s a way to be active in a low impact way where you don’t need to wear special clothing or kit and you’re not getting hot and sweaty while playing, these reasons and many more explain why mini, crazy and adventure golf is such a popular activity.

Putterfingers have seen the joy it brings during some of the community work they have done when visiting schools and care homes with a pop up course to run mini golf activities for students and residents.

The success and growth of Putterfingers is down to teamwork, it is a fun and creative atmosphere where everyone is prepared to put in the work to grow and continue the success of Putterfingers. The team is still relatively small, a small team that gets a lot done.

Staff members like Rich have been there from the start, where all members of the team had to do a number of different tasks and all had a hand in keeping everything running while the company grew. Today the team members have their own specific roles to carry out, the team spirit is still strong and colleagues will always help each other out when needed. There have even been times when team members have left Putterfingers and missed working there so much they have returned.

www.putterfingers.com

Photograph

‘Chris Goddard’ by Mangus

Chris Goddard

The Portrait Lady

Written by Andy Greenhouse

Having watched too many Facebook and Instagram reels of artists creating their masterpieces by sloshing gallons of paint everywhere on the floor, the walls, their clothing and themselves, or billowing clouds of chalk and charcoal dust into the air, and with brushes and palettes and beakers of murky liquids and countless other artistic objects strewn about, it was somewhat of a relief to meet this artist in her spotlessly clean kitchen.

Her studio is the kitchen table. The canvas she’s currently working on is taped to an old plastic tray for stability and ease of use and her box of paints and brushes is set to one side with a little pad to the other, where she mixes the colours. The room is airy, well lit and homely and she looked very comfortable in her corner, where she sits and paints her ‘victims’.

If ever there was a stereotypical artist, it’s certainly not this lovely lady. That she is an artist is unquestionably evident though. With one recently finished portrait drying off on a shelf, and another

she was currently working on, I was immediately struck by the realism of the faces she was painting. And so began a fascinating hour as I delved into world of Chris Goddard, aka The Portrait Lady.

Her foundation in art began many moons ago when she attended Southampton College of Art in the late 60’s. Eventually deciding that she didn’t want to become an art teacher after all, this particular aspect of her life was put into stasis while she pursued what would become the mainstay of her vocation, that of Counselling and Psychotherapy.

Always interested in people and the stories they have to tell, she greatly enjoyed working in the community in various roles such as a Homelessness Officer for St Edmundsbury Council, Welfare Officer at West Suffolk College, Family Support Coordinator for Family Action and she managed all of this this alongside her private therapist services.

Fast forward a few years to 2019 and Chris’s passion for painting was reignited when on a whim she

undertook an art course with Seasons Art in Bury St Edmunds. For several weeks, two or three hours at a time, she went along and learnt all about the different methods and mediums and the styles in which to use them, and it was this refresher that gave her the confidence she now has to produce such wonderful paintings.

And then Covid was among us, and the world changed. Chris decided to switch her therapist service to online, which could be carried out by video calls from the comfort and privacy of her own home directly with the patient in theirs. With the government telling everyone to ‘stay at home’ it made sense anyway. It was also at this time that both Chris and her husband, Howard, both became beset by health problems.

During a routine mammogram it was discovered that Chris had breast cancer, and there followed numerous appointments with various hospital departments and specialists, and a date was set for a lumpectomy. But this had to be postponed at the last minute when she tested positive for Covid! This was just before Christmas of 2020. Chris and Howard spent the festive season in isolation from each other, Chris to fight off the Covid in readiness for her op and Howard to protect himself from Chris as he’d just had a pacemaker fitted! A new date was set for later in January. However, this too proved to be problematic when, the day before surgery she had a phone call from hospital to say that she had again tested positive so was surgery cancelled once more. Not to be deterred Chris spoke with the Breast Care team to explain that she’d been in isolation and perhaps the accuracy of this test should be questioned. They promised somebody would call her with answers.

Later that day Mr. Kumar (breast surgeon) phoned Chris himself to say that he had spoken to the head

microbiologist who had explained that the tests were so sensitive that even dead covid cells could be detected for up to 90 days so, in effect, she was actually clear, and that he had put her on his surgery list for the following Monday! Not all heroes wear capes, for in Mr. Kumar’s case, it was a face mask.

It was during this time that Chris came to the conclusion that she was going to need some form of distraction from the circumstances that were starting to overwhelm her… she herself was in need of some therapy and this was the defining moment. She decided that she would try to paint a portrait of Mr Kumar by way of a thank you, which she presented to him when she had to have a second operation a few weeks later.

The honour of being the first ‘victim’ though, actually fell to paramedic John Lilley. The success of his portrait really encouraged Chris to carry on and Mr. Kumar’s, although second, was the first in the long succession of ‘thank you’ portraits that Chris would go on to paint, for her decision was made. We were living through unprecedented times. The NHS infrastructure, the ancillary staff, the support teams, ambulance and paramedical divisions, the care workers and anyone else you can think of that was remotely connected with looking after someone, were all being pushed to their absolute limits by the nightmare that was Covid19. The whole country would stand on their doorsteps once a week and clap and cheer and bang pans in mutual support and respect for these faceless people that kept the country on its feet and to say ‘thank you’ to them.

And this is what Chris decided she would do. She would say her own thank you to the countless people of the NHS that provided the care and attention that both she and Howard had unexpectedly found themselves in need of, by way of painting their portraits and presenting it to them.

It was from this act that she became known as The Portrait Lady.

She was certainly true to her word. The paintings came thick and fast. So many appointments and so much gratitude! But as her health improved and her appointment schedule reduced, there came a time when she simply ran out of subjects, or ‘victims’ as she kept referring to them, although in hindsight she should call them ‘Dalmatians’ for there would go on to be 101 paintings done through this period!

As each one was finished and given to the recipient, Chris would get a great response from them. She looked on each painting as not only a way of saying thank you, but also as a morale boost, for time after time she would hear them say that they were just doing their job. But, it became important to her to show the appreciation of, and to say thank you for, what they were doing, and their appreciation of this small act was not unnoticed.

Having finished what she set out to do, it soon became apparent that she wasn’t actually finished, and the urge was still strong to paint. She looked further afield, and it was the front-line workers that held her attention this time. They that took the flack, they that carried on their work regardless of the social situation… and so the 101 went on to include the medication delivery driver, staff from School Lane Surgery and the Pharmacy, staff from Breckland District Council, her local Postman (who, apart from Howard, was the only subject painted without a mask at that time), a Vaccine nurse, three teachers who taught the children of other front line workers, staff from St. Nicholas Hospice (where Chris also does some voluntary work) , a bunch of firemen and the staff of the mobile Chemotherapy unit … the very people that the country needed, on the front line, to keep things ‘normal’, and who were equally deserving of gratitude.

It was from her painting of the Firemen that came the invitation to set out an exhibition of her work. One of the firemen had set up a community gallery in Hingham and asked Chris to exhibit her paintings to highlight the work of the NHS and frontline workers. This was still during Covid lockdown so it had to be a virtual exhibition and was officially opened by Roy Brame, Chairman of Breckland Council.

One thing led to another and the next thing suggested to Chris was that of producing a book of all her paintings. She was very taken with this idea but wanted to take it a step further, to make it a ‘team book’ – a local record of that remarkably difficult time and so decided to ask everyone that she had painted to write a little of their covid story to be included alongside their portrait.

Chris had already explained to me that every picture she’d painted had a story behind it and she felt it important that these stories were also captured. She knew all the stories and could reel them off for each and everyone.

What fascinated me most about the book was that apart from her husband Howard, and the postman, everyone was painted with their face-masks on! This has to be one of the most vivid reminders of Covid I’ve ever seen, and it really struck it home about what we all experienced, but how some had to give up a lot more personal freedom in the name of duty. And it was from this necessity that many of these heroes learnt the art of eye-contact and also how important their tone of voice had become without the tool of facial expression available to them.

And thus was published ‘HOPE’, capturing a moment in time, snapshots and reflections of our covid experiences before they were forgotten, and highlighting the hope we all held for a vaccine, and for our survival.

The official ‘public’ launch of the book was in November 2023 and held at Thetford Library. The event was introduced by Lady Kay Fisher, Deputy Lord Lieutenant of Norfolk, and was well attended by many of Chris’s portraitees and Council dignitaries. The book continues to be a success and is available on Amazon with all proceeds going to St. Nicholas Hospice.

With life having regained a modicum of normalcy, the paint stopped flowing. But like all good adages, it would seem that, although you take paint out of the girl, you’ll never take the girl out of the paint! Or is it the other way round? But you guessed it, within eighteen months, Chris discovered that she was missing the roar of the paint and the stroke of the brush, and she was back at it.

She eased herself back into it with a couple of super paintings of her gorgeous grandchildren before starting back on the lovely NHS staff, concentrating mainly on those from the West Suffolk Hospital. This time though, she was doing it as a hobby, no longer needing the therapy it had previously brought. It turned out to be quite the challenge too, for apart from the odd one or two, up until this point all her subjects had been wearing face masks so now she had to get used to painting actual noses and mouths! But practise makes perfect, and her talent shone through, and the current tally is now up to 140 at the time of writing.

If they say a picture can paint a thousand words… I can only hope that these two thousand words can paint a picture, of one lady and her extraordinary talent for capturing the very essence of a person with just a few brush strokes.

Paintings and Photograph

Images Supplied by Chris Goddard

Page 98 Top Row Left to Right

• Mr Balendra Kumar, associate specialist: breast surgeon - August 2024

• Dr Phillipa Llewellyn - School Lane Surgery

• Mr Balendra Kumar - Specialist Breast Surgeon WSH - January 2021

Middle L to R

• Karl Hain - Watch Manager - Thetford Fire Service - Painted August 2021 during covid

• Rob Breen - Firefighter - Thetford Fire Service

• Harry Powell - Firefighter - Thetford Fire Service

Bottom L to R

• Kevin Peat - Firefighter -Thetford Fire Service

• Andrew Thomas - Firefighter - Thetford Fire Service

• Gavin Smith - Operational Support OfficerThetford Fire Service

Page 100 Top Row Left to Right

• Steve Collins - Firefighter - Thetford Fire Service

• Ben Shepperson - Firefighter -Thetford Fire Service

• Scott Field, Firefighter - Thetford Fire Service

Main Photograph

• School Lane Surgery - January 2022

‘X Marks the Spot’ by Andy Greenwood, thanks to Ancient House Museum

THE THETFORD TUNNELS

Enigma – Part Two

Written and Photographs by Andy Greenhouse

As a young lad in my teens, I was a keen D&D player. That’s Dungeons and Dragons, if you didn’t know. A group of intrepid adventurers would gather around a table armed with lots of dice, pencils and paper, and a ton of imagination. Then, guided by the narrative and vivid descriptions provided by the Dungeon Master, they would descend into the depths of a dungeon network of tunnels and rooms. It would be up to one of the adventurers to draw a map based on the DM’s directions, or face the prospect of getting lost, never to see the light of day again.

So, you can imagine my excitement when I was presented with the opportunity to delve into the subterranean underworld of Thetford! But what started out as a straightforward mission, to investigate the existence of a tunnel between Kings House and The Bell Hotel, quickly digressed.

For Part One of this article, in edition 9 of the magazine, I described how I had been into the

bowels of the Bell and seen the existence of what could possibly be the remnants of a tunnel. Sadly though, at some point in the past, it had been bricked up at the point where it would lead under King Street towards King’s House. There are plans to insert an endoscope to hopefully see what’s on the other side of the brickwork, but this has still yet to be done.

I also visited several properties up and down King Street to investigate their cellars, in the hope there may some evidence to support the notion that perhaps the cellars were all interconnected at one time to make a tunnel, but this proved inconclusive.

Several people came forward with snippets of stories from yesteryear concerning tunnels and mines, and ancient myth speaks of treasures and tunnels around Castle Hill and the Priory, so it seemed my mission was not yet accomplished. Another chapter was crying out to be written!

Part Two started with The Chantry. The house, in White Hart Street, is one of Thetford’s oldest surviving structures, with ecclesiastical roots and connections to the town’s medieval past and is rumoured to have had a tunnel connecting it to Kings House, which is only around 200m to the south of it.

A Chantry is a type of medieval institution, usually a chapel or an altar within a church, for the purpose of saying masses for the souls of the deceased, and with so many churches in the vicinity such as St. Peters, St. Giles, St. Nicholas, St. Andrews, St. Marys and St. Trinity, some still functioning and others long gone, it’s not hard to connect the presence of the Chantry, marked with a red X on an old map (Page 102).

Chantries were common in old England and although endowed by the church, were often established by wealthy individuals or families in their houses as a way to ensure prayers for their souls after death.

The current occupant, Gary, was kind enough to let me have a look downstairs which, although built of brick, were quite steep and narrow (Page 104). The cellar to which they led down to is just one room with white painted brickwork walls. On the back wall is an arched alcove (Top Right). Interestingly, the perpendicular wall which leads from the back wall in the direction of the front of the house has a section of different, newer, brickwork at the point nearest the back that looked suspiciously like a bricked-up doorway (Bottom Right), which warrants further investigation as to where it might have led. I have yet to contact the next-door neighbours to see what’s in their cellar!

The map in pic, page 102, was photographed at the Ancient House Museum a few days after my

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visit to the Chantry. I spent a few moments with Oliver, the curator, to see if he could lay his hands on any interesting snippets. But, aside from a couple of old photos of chalk mines and lime kilns, there was nothing of great interest to this particular investigation, except the cellar!

In the little room off to the left as you come through the front door and where resides the map of all the old churches, there is a huge trapdoor in the floor that opens up to reveal an old wooden stairway into the basement.

The two arched alcoves are the only things of interest down there. I could not imagine from the layout that this cellar was a part of something bigger, but Oliver assured me that the two alcoves had been bricked up and if they were open, would lead into the cellar under The New Saffron restaurant next door, which indicated to him that the Ancient House was larger in its early stages.

Interestingly, there was a red plastic biscuit tub in the corner which is a time capsule (Opposite left bottom), though the words are faded and Oliver could only remember that it was some Brownies that left it in there several years ago but he wasn’t sure when and certainly couldn’t remember when it was supposed to be opened again… so if there’s anyone reading this who remembers placing it there, perhaps you can help with a reminder of when is should be opened!

And then, finally! About a week after the publication of part one of The Thetford Tunnels Enigma, I gained access to the King’s House cellars, the Holy Grail of Thetford’s subterranean treasures!

Having been given the contact details by Katie at the Council, actual contact with Adam, the Gardens contractor who holds the keys, was proving difficult

until I happened to be walking past one Monday morning and spotted his van backed up through the gates into the Gardens.

Quickly tracking him down in the Gardens, I explained who I was and what I wanted, and he happily obliged by unlocking the conservatory doors and showing me the entrance to the cellars.

Then accompanied by him and his colleague, we descended into the depths!

For this impromptu visit though, it turned out I was ill-prepared. With very little light filtering down from the entrance, it was very dark! Luckily, we each possessed fandangled modern technology in the way of mobile phones with torch apps, so we soon could at least see where we were going.

It was a quick trip, but it gave me a good feel for what was down there, which was an ‘L’ shaped complex, with rooms at either end of the two corridors, and a series of alcoves in between.

The entry ladder was a very recent addition, but it dropped down into right-angle junction of the two corridors which was the oldest part of the cellars and had by far the most character.

After a quick exploration I resolved to return the following week, better prepared and armed with pen and paper, and a torch!

The following Monday, I did just that. Adam the gardener was expecting me this time and after unlocking the door, left me to it, not before I’d pleaded with him not to forget I was down there! And down I went to set about my solo dungeon adventure!

An hour and half later I completed my cartographic

‘King’s House Cellar Complex’ by Andy Greenwood

capers. I was sweaty, thirsty and covered in dust and cobwebs, but I’d mapped the layout and taken a few photos. (Pages 110 and 112)

The cellars appear to be a mix of old and new. Quite how old is hard to say though, but with the origins of King’s House dating back to before the 1600’s it’s fairly safe to assume that the oldest parts of the cellars are likely to have been constructed at the same time.

There is certainly a feel of age while trudging around down there, especially along the worn brickwork floor of the main passageway, and the look and feel of the limewashed flint and brick walls.

The main areas of interest were at the rightangle junction of the ‘L’ shape, numbered 2,3,4,5 on my map. To all intents and purposes there appeared to be two parallel tunnel sections running perpendicular to the passageway. To the left, No’s 2 and 3, were the dead ends of these two ‘tunnels’ and with the addition of a wooden partition with a door set into their arches, they had been converted into ‘store rooms’ with some shelving in one, and some old (empty) bottles in the other.

No’s 4 and 5 on the map were the other ends of these two sections. No.5 is a blocked off dead end, whereas No.4 is only half blocked and then continues as a narrower passageway (No.15) towards a very heavy iron door (pic Page 110 middle row left) and the large double room (No.16 on map).

For all the workmanship and intricacy of constructing these two lengths of ‘tunnel’ with extensive brick and flint work walls and the curved ceiling common to tunnels, I could not help but get the feeling there were more secrets hidden away behind the walls that we will probably never know about.

The passageway (15) and the double room (16) it led to, whilst seemingly being an extension of the workings that formed the room/alcove (2) at the other end, appeared to have been reworked in modern times. The floor along here was concreted, there was an electric light and a fan of some sort in the wall, and the walls had been lined with polystyrene as if to insulate it which indicates this may have been used as a cold storage room. The two square holes (one at eye level, the other at knee level) cut into the dividing wall between the two rooms were puzzling as to their purpose. Perhaps this had served as some kind of prison cell in the past and these were the openings by which food was passed through. The second room was very echoey and overbearing. The very heavy cast iron door gave some support to this notion.

Retreating back to the entrance area, I then headed down the older passageway (6,7,8). Underfoot, the floor was of brick and, apart from being very dirty, was quite smooth from the years of footfall.

Much of the ceiling was the older curved brick/ flint mix construction, but in places the ceiling was modern plasterboard hiding the rotting beams of the house above, supporting the floor.

This corridor opened out into a small room with a slab of a shelf just under a recess in which there was a grill in the top part that daylight could be seen through (10). This was the enclosed courtyard at the back of Kings House. There was also a door which revealed another ladder when opened, for another means of entry/exit but to/from the inside of the house instead of the exterior conservatory that I entered through.

There was also another heavy door which led into the last room, currently in use as the boiler room with lots of pipes and valves and boiler type

equipment. (14)

The oddity in this room was the waist-high dividing wall that cut the room in two, with a ‘doorway’ gap half way along it. (12) It was difficult to discern the purpose of this wall apart from it was handy to rest my clipboard on while I took some measurements.

This room also had a newer feel to it than the passageway leading to it. The floor was different too, being laid with 12” square tiles rather than bricks. Halfway along the far wall was an opening which seemed to be the exit point of a chute that disappeared up inside the wall. (13)(pic Page 112 middle row left). In the floor under this was a drain hole of some sort, so one can only imagine that the chute was some sort of waste disposal system, and garderobe sprang immediately to mind, so I didn’t get too close!

With my exploration complete I decided to call it a day though I felt that the exercise had created more questions than it had provided answers.

Later that evening I posted a short narrative of my exploits to my personal Facebook page, including the map I’d drawn. One response to this was from an old friend, John Julian, who came up with a great suggestion, which I quickly took on board and made arrangements for the following week…

John happens to be a very good medium and can communicate with the spiritual world. He had suggested, and offered, to accompany me to the cellars to see if he could pick up anything spiritual.

I met him by the Thomas Paine statue, and we headed into the Gardens, quickly finding Adam again, who knew we were coming, and we were soon clambering down the ladder into the cellar.

I took several video clips of the experience as we walked through the rooms and corridors and have tried to pick out the salient points for you. To be clear, at no point was John ‘in conversation’ with anybody. Everything he related to me was him picking up energies and ‘feelings’ of who or what had once been there.

It’s broken down into four areas

• The entrance where we came in with the two alcove/rooms.

• The long, older corridor

• The small room with the grill and door to the other ladder

• The ‘boiler’ room

There are some footnotes at the end of this which were afterthoughts and have bearing on the walkthrough experience. See 1*, 2* and 3*

Entrance – John experienced a shortness of breath, a sure sign he was picking up on something and said he could feel lots of energies straightaway. He sensed this had been used as a shelter, with people hiding and later, when we came back to this section, he had feelings of army types, like the home guard, men with metal helmets. 1*

He also kept hearing names mentioned, John and Paul here, and references to Saints. 2*

Looking further into the two ‘rooms’ (2+3 on map) he definitely picked up children’s energy, especially in the corner of room 2, as though they were crying and sniffling. He felt it was almost as they were shut into the room as there was a metal door slamming shut, but it was as though they were being hidden there, not imprisoned. The surrounding energy was good, caring and religious.

In the alcove (5) which appeared to be a

continuation of room 3, John had the immense feeling that there was something more behind the wall as though there should be another room or passageway beyond.

And then again, back at the ladder we came down, he felt that this wasn’t where people would have originally come down into the cellar. They would have come down in a different place, maybe down a slide.

Corridor – Along the corridor John had great feelings of being followed by a line of people wearing robes and with bowed heads as if in prayer. At one point he felt his elbow being physically brushed by something. Along here he also heard names, those of Samuel and James (a reference to King James maybe?), and the sound of something metallic being dragged along.

We noticed the floor slopes up from both ends to a raised part in the middle section, but we were unsure of any relevance. It was around here that John had the sensation of lots of rats scurrying around and along the passageway as well as dogs having been there at some point. Also, towards the far end, was a sad feeling of death but it was indefinite as to whether it was somebody had died there, or perhaps bodies had been stored there that had died elsewhere, or even that someone was buried there.

John also got the feeling here that there was more of the cellars behind the walls. The alcoves (5 and 7) just seemed incomplete and pointless as they are. As we walked up and down the passageway, John was given the urge to stop again by the alcove and to look up. All we saw was modern plasterboard for the ceiling, but by standing in the alcove it was possible to look at what the board was covering. Directly above were the very old floor beams supporting the floorboards of the room above. But

the beams, while very ancient and seeming rotten in places, were also quite blackened with soot as though burned or seared or just licked by flames and we could only imagine countless candles and naked flame torches having been used for lighting over the years.

Grill Room – Kept hearing the name Stewart (or Stuart). Got the feeling in here that this was a safe room and relaxing, in that people who came down would be welcomed here and made to feel safe.

At the ladder behind the door in this room, John had the sensation of dizziness and a feeling of dropping, as though people were dropped into the cellar from above, or slid down something. We noticed a strange protrusion to one side and could not decide it’s function. We also noticed the wall to the other side seemed different as though a doorway had been bricked in which would have led straight into the passageway (8) on the other side.

Boiler Room – Lots of energies in this room, but older, in the sense they were more adult, unlike at the entrance where it seemed to be children’s energies.

John felt the association of food and drink here, almost as though it was a kitchen or similar. 3*

There was a feeling of a strong connection to the Priory in this room. An image of monks.

And again John keeps hearing Saints... Saint this, Saint that… all Saints. 2*

Notes:

1* - Later that evening I posted to a couple of FB group pages asking if anyone had any firsthand knowledge or experience of ever having gone down the cellar during the war as though it was an air raid

shelter. Whilst nobody came forward to confirm this, it did come to light that there was an air raid shelter at No. 1 White Hart Street, which would be about 50 meters from where we were. This bears further investigation.

2* - John kept hearing Saints mentioned, in a couple of places in the cellar. A few days later while looking again at the map from 1832 it struck me that King’s House had been literally surrounded by churches, all of which were Saint this and Saint that.

3* - The Norfolk Heritage Explorer refers a record (NHER 5752) describing the various aspects of King’s House over the years and one part notes that there was a Banqueting House attached to the SE corner of St Peter’s Churchyard, but this was demolished in the late 18th Century. It’s placing would have more or less aligned with the boiler room in the cellar and just maybe provides the connection that John picked up on regarding the food and drink.

My King’s House adventure was over, but not my underworld explorations!

Before this chapter was closed, I found my attention drawn to the other side of town, to what will now become part 3 of this fascinating subject, and will include a visit to the Black Horse pub and to uncover stories about a network of tunnels that emanated from the old Bidwell Brewery site in Old Market Street which is now Lovewell Blakes old offices.

And after a chat with Iain Hyson, there is also the tale of a tunnel that connected the Guildhall courtroom to the Gaol house cells (which he assisted in excavating), and other reports of various cellars and tunnels around the market place and King Street, so stay tuned!

To be continued…

Lost Property

An Anonymous Gift to The Magazine

Transcribed from hand written text by the magazine team

In a previous edition of ‘Reflections of Thetford’, we mentioned an anonymous donation to the magazine, an old leather suitcase discovered around 1920 by a porter at Thetford Railway Station. After being handed in to lost property and remaining unclaimed for the required period, the suitcase became the property of the porter who had found it.

The suitcase, later found in the attic of the donor’s grandfather after his passing, contained finely bound leather notebooks filled with handwritten notes. Before World War II, it was placed in another attic, where it remained forgotten until one of our readers, having read ‘Reflections of Thetford’, recalled its existence and believed its contents might interest the people of the town.

Remarkably well-preserved despite being over a

century old, the suitcase had beautifully decorated (though tarnished) brass catches and gold initials, ‘M.R.J.’ embossed on the top. Inside were three leather-bound books filled with handwritten notes. Initially, these appeared to be detailed observations of Thetford, but further reading revealed a series of strange tales and mysterious occurrences set in and around the town.

Due to the fragile condition of the pages, we have carefully scanned and transcribed each one, a process that took much longer than expected. We are now pleased to share with you the contents of the first book.

The author of these writings remains unknown, and while we cannot confirm whether the stories are fact or fiction, they reference familiar local landmarks and appear to be set in Thetford.

Chapter One: Arrival in Thetford

The 3:10 train from Cambridge slid to a stop at Thetford station under a ceiling of grey October cloud. Professor Lawrence Beech, clutching a worn satchel and binocular case, stepped down from the carriage and into a town that felt half-asleep.

The platform held little life beyond a porter with a red nose and a stout man in a brown overcoat— Mr. Lionel Ellison, his host.

“Beech! My word, you made good time,” Ellison boomed, extending a gloved hand. “Come along, the horse and carriage is just outside.”

The ride from the station led them through the edge of town and down Croxton Road, past tidy Georgian houses, crooked lanes, and shops with painted signs faded by decades of drizzle. As they turned onto Green Lane and then Castle Street, the road began to climb.

Beech asked Ellison to stop in Castle Street as he wished them both to climb atop Castle Hill, Ellison obliged and halted the carriage in Castle Lane, where a low wind stirred the grasses. The ruins of the Norman motte lay behind them like the bones of a forgotten beast, and the view opened westward.

“That,” Ellison said, gesturing with a gloved hand, “is Gallows Hill. Doesn’t look like much from here, but it’s steeper than you think. Used to hang men there, in the old days. Just left of it, in that darker patch of trees—you see?—that’s where the Abbey of St. Modwen once stood. Not much left now.”

Beech raised his binoculars. Through the mist, a

dense copse of trees clung to a dip in the earth.

There was, just faintly, the glint of stone. A broken wall, or perhaps an arch.

“You’ll want to visit it tomorrow, I expect,” Ellison said. “But first, a bit of supper and a decent bed. The Bell Hotel’s ready for you.”

The Bell stood on King Street, a crooked old coaching inn with leaded windows and a creaking sign that showed a red-faced monk holding a bell.

The interior was dim but warm, and a fire burned in the grate of the lounge. The landlady, a reserved woman named Mrs. Hargreaves, greeted Beech with a practiced smile and a brass key.

“Professor Beech, is it? You’re in Room Ten. Top of the stairs, left side. View of the west.”

The room was modest but warm, with a writing desk, iron bedstead, and an excellent view. As dusk fell, the last light caught on the outline of Gallows Hill, still and solemn against the cloudy sky. Beech watched until the mist thickened and obscured it entirely.

Chapter Two: The Legend of the Bell

That evening, over roast lamb and a carafe of wine in the candle lit timber beamed dining room at The Bell, Ellison shared more of the region’s history.

“St. Modwen’s was dissolved well before the larger monasteries,” he said. “Abandoned rather than destroyed. The monks simply… left. Took what they could. But they say one bell, ‘The Last Bell,’ the townsfolk call it, was hidden. Too sacred to be melted down, or too cursed, depending on who’s telling the tale.”

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Beech was immediately intrigued. “Do they say where it was buried?”

“Beneath the abbey grounds. Near the old transept, if the stories are true. You’ll see what little remains.

Some say you can still hear it, under certain conditions.”

“Hear it?”

“Yes. It tolls. Quietly. Underground.”

Ellison leaned forward. “The locals say it tolls for the curious. For those who pry. You won’t hear it if you walk past. But if you stop, if you linger, then perhaps.”

Beech laughed, though not without unease. “Has anyone heard it recently?”

“A traveller in the 1890s claimed he heard it. Wrote a diary about it. I have a copy. He vanished a few weeks later. Some said he was ill. Others say he went back to dig. And then… nothing.”

“And no one else?”

Ellison hesitated. “A child in the 1900s claimed to hear it. She had night terrors afterward. Said a figure came to her window holding a bell that didn’t move, but tolled all the same. Her family left Thetford within the year.”

MEMBERSHIPS

Beech nodded slowly. He’d heard stranger tales in stranger towns—but something about this one clung to him.

Chapter Three: Into the Woods

The next morning, after a sparse breakfast and a brief chat with Mrs. Hargreaves, who seemed oddly reluctant to discuss Gallows Hill, Beech set out.

He packed his satchel with a compass, notebook, field guide, and binoculars, then walked out of town and up Castle Hill once more. From the crest, Gallows Hill looked even more forlorn. No path led directly to it. He followed the field lane behind The Guildhall, crossed two meadows, a river, and climbed a low stile into a tangle of woodland.

The trees soon pressed close. Blackthorn and elder twisted together, and the path all but vanished. An hour passed before he found the clearing.

It was a sunken circle, surrounded by brambles and half-buried stones. One large slab protruded like a lid, its surface scored with old carvings nearly worn smooth.

Beech knelt to examine it—and then, without warning, came the sound.

Tonng.

Low. Hollow. A bell struck from far below.

He froze. Checked his watch. Waited.

Tonng.

Again. Regular, spaced by perhaps thirty seconds. The earth beneath him vibrated faintly, like a drum skin.

He pressed his ear to the mossy stone. It was cold— but something within it… moved. Not a sound, but a presence. A stirring.

He stumbled back, breath short. He looked behind him. No one.

But the bell tolled again.

Chapter Four: The Whispering Hours

Back in his room at The Bell that night, Beech tried to write his notes, but his hand trembled too much.

He kept glancing toward the door, the floorboards, the narrow window.

Just after two in the morning, he woke to a sound.

A third toll.

This time, not from the fields. It came from the floorboards.

He sat up, cold sweat on his brow. Straining to hear.

Nothing else.

Then, footsteps. Slow. Dragging. From the corridor.

And then: a whisper.

“Come and see.”

He opened the door. The hallway was dark. At the far end, near the stair, stood a figure.

It wore a hood. Its face was in shadow. Its robes were damp, clinging as if from river water. In its hand: a bell, black and corroded. It did not swing. But it hummed.

“Come and see,” it said again, in a voice that echoed without volume.

Chapter Five: The Bell’s Toll Ends

By morning, Professor Beech was gone.

His bed appeared untouched. His notebook was left open on the desk, ink smeared and pages torn at the corners. The landlady swore she heard no door, no step.

A search was made. The path he had taken was walked again. His binoculars were found at the abbey site, lying beside a stone slab newly shifted.

The ground around it was disturbed. As though something had clawed its way free.

Ellison gave the notebook to a local historian. The final page bore only one line, written over and over:

“He tolls it still. He tolls it still. He tolls it still.”

The area of the stone slab at The Abbey Ruins was covered over with fresh earth, but even to this day the area is slightly hollowed as if the earth is sinking into a subterranean abyss.

But in Thetford, when the wind is low, and the hour drags between night and morning, guests at The Bell sometimes wake to a vibration in the floor.

Three tolls.

And a whisper in the dark: “Come and see.”

Photograph ‘Daniel Kiane’ by Mangus

DK Armaments

How Dan Turned a Childhood Hobby into a Thriving Airsoft Empire

Written by Martin Angus

In the quiet market town of Norfolk, tucked inside a once-forgotten tropical fish shop, you’ll find one of the fastest-growing names in the UK airsoft scene: ‘DK Armaments’. But beyond the rows of replica rifles and tactical gear is a man whose journey embodies hustle, heart, and an unrelenting passion for turning a childhood love into a legitimate enterprise.

This is the story of ‘Daniel Kiane’, the founder of DK Armaments, a man who built his airsoft empire not with outside investment or flashy gimmicks, but with lived experience, long nights, and an old-school determination to succeed.

FROM FORESTS TO FIREPOWER: A CHILDHOOD ROOTED IN IMAGINATION

Like many boys of the ‘90s, Dan’s earliest influences were found on VHS tapes. Think ‘Lethal Weapon’, ‘Commando’, ‘Die Hard’, films that captured the chaos and charisma of the action hero. Growing up in Barking and Dagenham, East London, he was fascinated by all things military and tactical, even before he knew what “airsoft” meant.

But the city offered little space for adventure. That all changed in the early 2000s, when Dan’s family relocated to rural Norfolk following his parents’ separation.

“We moved in with my nan,” he recalls. “Suddenly there were forests, fields—space to be a kid. Me and the other local lads would head to the market, grab BB guns, and go run around in the woods playing out the movies we loved.”

It was make-believe at first, until it wasn’t. Over time, Dan began to refine his interests. His childhood love of toy guns and BBs evolved into a respect for craftsmanship, mechanics, and community.

THE EARLY ENTREPRENEUR: FROM BB BAGS TO GOLD CHAINS

Dan’s entrepreneurial streak started young. He used to buy and sell various items he could find from markets, from tracksuits to bb guns and various other items, but finding that others needed bbs to play he

would portion them out into little bags, and sell them to his mates for £1 each, then use the profit to fund more guns for the group and other items “We’d all share them,” he says, “and just have a jolly in the forest.”

Later, having built relationships and reputation amongst the local traders, enabling him to get better prices, he was able to purchase items directly from source and later began buying tracksuits, trainers, and jewellery to sell on. “I was always a wheeler-dealer,” he admits, grinning. “Used to sell gold at school. Everyone knew me as the guy who could get a deal. Or gold man Dan”

With every transaction, Dan was learning about margins, negotiation, demand, and, crucially, trust.

By college, he was putting his resources to good use and unlike most teenagers who would often spend their money on sweets, he would use his EMA (Educational Maintenance Allowance) but on deposits for real gold jewellery. He’d pay off a ring in instalments, sell it for profit, and start again. During the UK’s gold boom, he made solid money buying and selling gold and flipping old, broken jewellery that others were scrapping for cash and would often be the go to guy.

SCHOOL OF HARD KNOCKS: WORK, LAYOFFS, AND LESSONS IN RESILIENCE

Despite his natural talent for trade, Dan’s early career was filled with hardship. He left school with little in the way of qualifications and took what jobs he could, Wilkinsons at 17, then Wicks as a forklift driver. “I did the yard, the warehouse, the graft,” he says.

A grim turning point came when he and two colleagues were pitted against each other for a single full-time contract. After a nine-week trial, none of them got the job. “They gave it to someone with no experience,” he recalls. “Two lads walked out on the

spot. I left not long after.”

Later, he worked at ‘Satcom’, managing parts for TV broadcast vans, including units bound for the BBC and international news agencies. It was here he learned about international logistics, import/export skills that would prove vital later in his airsoft career.

But that job, too, disappeared without warning. “We walked in one morning and they told us the whole department was gone. Redundant. Again.”

FROM TRADE TO ACADEMIA: RETURNING TO EDUCATION ON HIS OWN TERMS

Tired of the employment rollercoaster, Dan took matters into his own hands. He enrolled in night school, working evenings at a nearby RAF base while redoing his maths and English.

Then came business college. Then university. “I was older than the other students,” he says. “But I wasn’t there to mess about. I got distinctions across the board.”

He earned a degree in ‘Financial Management and Accountancy’, eventually working for one of his own lecturers at a private practice. During this time, Dan was juggling multiple roles—RAF base by night, bookkeeping by day, student in between.

But even while buried in spreadsheets, “airsoft kept calling”.

THE SPARK: BB BULK BUYS AND SIDE-HUSTLE SUCCESS

As a player, Dan noticed how expensive airsoft could be. BBs, pyrotechnics, gear, it added up fast. So he started buying BBs and pyro in bulk and selling them to his fellow players. “It helped cover my own costs,” he says. “Then I realised, this is a real business opportunity.”

He reached out to Chinese manufacturers and started importing BBs under his own brand: “DK Armaments”.

With years of trading experience and a working knowledge of import/export law, Dan navigated the logistics, ordered custom packaging, and launched an eBay store. His BBs began to appear at local game sites, including ‘Battle Stations’ in Snetterton, where owner Darren let him store his first shipping container full of product free of charge.

“That act of kindness gave me my start,” Dan says. “I’ll always respect Darren for that he is a great guy and I have a lot of time and respect for him.”

PANDEMIC PIVOT: UNEXPECTED PROFITS FROM UV TORCHES

When COVID hit, airsoft ground to a halt. But Dan, always a step ahead, found an unlikely goldmine: ‘UV torches’. Originally ordered for night games, they suddenly became hot items for sanitation.

“I was importing thousands at a time,” he laughs. “Didn’t realise people were buying them to kill germs. It kept the business afloat when everything else was shut.”

BUILDING A STORE FROM SCRATCH—LITERALLY

Post-lockdown, Dan was ready for something bigger. He found a rundown ex-aquatics shop in need of serious TLC. Walls caked in mould, floors worn out and in serious need of a complete restoration. But given this it was an opportunity to make something great, given the circumstances, the rent was cheap and the landlord gave him full creative control.

He and a group of friends, most unpaid, rebuilt it from the ground up. “Every evening after work, they were here. Painting, plastering, wiring. All on IOUs. I’ll never

forget that loyalty.”

In November 2021, “DK Armaments offcially opened its doors.”

BUILDING A BRAND—AND A COMMUNITY

Today, DK Armaments is a full-fledged airsoft destination. With Over 300 rifles lining the walls, alongside hundreds of pistols, tactical kits, and accessories. Dan’s customer base includes everyone from teenagers to military personnel stationed nearby.

But it’s not just the stock that keeps people coming back.

“I’m not a pushy salesman,” Dan says. “People like coming here because it’s relaxed. You pop in for gear, but you end up having a chat. It feels like visiting a mate’s house.”

The store includes a ‘shooting range’, allowing kids and adults alike to test gear on-site, even those who can’t play on the fields due to physical limitations. “We’ve got disabled customers who shoot in their gardens. This sport really is for everyone.”

DK’S BUSINESS PHILOSOPHY: GRAFT, GRATITUDE, AND GROWTH

Dan didn’t come from money. His family was hardworking but humble. That background informs everything he does.

“I pay my suppliers on time. I don’t take big wages. Every penny goes back in,” he says. “I see too many businesses go under because they take before they build. I lived off less than £400 a month or nothing at all some months and, That’s how committed I was.”

He’s now investing in a ‘brand-new website’, hiring marketing professionals, and preparing for other

business ventures including a ‘BB product rebrand’, this will separate the shop from its proprietary ammunition, allowing other retailers to stock his BBs without fear of promoting a competitor. There are also other ventures in the pipeline.

FUTURE VISIONS: GROWING THE SCENE, KEEPING THE SPIRIT

Looking ahead, Dan has clear hopes: for his business, and for the airsoft community at large.

“I want the sport to grow, but stay honest,” he says. “Airsoft is built on integrity. If you get hit, you call it. It’s not like other games. That’s the beauty of it.”

He’s seen firsthand how it changes lives. “We get people with anxiety, PTSD, even depression. They come in alone, they leave with friends. You can be 16 or 60—it doesn’t matter. You belong here. Airsoft is a community and everyone can be part of it”

And that’s what DK Armaments is all about: ‘belonging, passion, and perseverance’.

FINAL WORDS

In an industry filled with flashy marketing and fierce competition, Dan’s story stands out because it’s real.

He didn’t inherit a fortune. He didn’t have a roadmap. He built something from nothing, armed with little more than instinct, integrity, and a lifelong love of the game.

Today, when people say, “We’re heading to DK’s,” they’re not just talking about a store.

They’re talking about a community.

Photograph ‘Thetford from the air, 1969’ - Courtesy G. Balaam, © 1969 Norwich Mercury Series.

Foreground right - Nuns Gate, Centre Left - An empty space waiting for St Michael’s Close to be built, Centre -The Bury Road Gasworks, Back Left - The Danepak watertower can just be seen.

THE LONDON BOROUGH OF THETFORD

The growth of a small town

Written by David Williams

Despite being over eighty miles from the centre of the capital and as unlikely as it may sound, I have heard and seen this phrase coined on a few occasions, but what led to such a monicker?

Were you to be dropped unbeknown into one of Thetford’s overspill estates on Barnham Cross, Redcastle Furze, Abbey Farm or the Ladies, you could be forgiven for thinking you might be in any one of the nine-post war New Towns and twenty-two Expansion towns in the South-East of England and East Anglia. Having moved to Thetford nine years ago after living for twenty-five years in the very first New Town, Stevenage, when I initially drove along Kimms Belt towards the Pine Close shops, I had to do a double take because, were it not for the old twisted Breckland pine trees, the houses and parade of shops were identical to the neighbourhood I had just left behind. Then, driving along Canterbury Way on Abbey Farm was even more baffling with the identical style of houses to those along its namesake

in Stevenage, built in the 1970’s and in both towns on roads bearing the same Cathedral City names. In fact, visitors from back home who turn off the A11 onto Brandon Road, then via Abbey Farm comment that they drive through “Stevenage” to get to our house!

The similarities should not come as a surprise as both Stevenage New Town and the expansion estates in Thetford were built as London “overspill” housing to London County Council plans at a similar period of time. However, in Thetford the expansion was welcomed, unlike Stevenage where opposition was vehement to the point that one night, protestors re-assigned the town’s station boards with the name “Silkingrad” in opposition to the plans by the Minister for Town and Country Planning, Lewis Silkin who saw New Towns as the solution to the UK’s housing crisis. But why, with a lower population than Stevenage’s 6000, was Thetford so in favour whilst Stevenage was so against?

To answer this question, we need to delve back in time. So, here’s the history bit:

In the Domesday Book of 1086 – yes, I know, that’s a long way back in history, but bear with me, - Thetford was reckoned to be the sixth biggest town in the realm and within the largest 20% of settlements recorded, having 840 households and an estimated population of 4,500. Unfortunately for Thetford, when Bishop Herbert de Losinga removed his throne to Norwich in 1094, no longer being the site of the cathedral of East Anglia meant the town suffered huge financial losses. It seems incredible that in the intervening 850 years, with growth and shrinkage, by the end of the Second World War, the population was still in the region of 4,500 and a sleepy underfunded Norfolk town. Little had changed, apparently, since 1906 when the author Virginia Woolf, in her diary, wrote of Thetford – “Often in London I shall think of Thetford, and wonder if it is still alive; or whether it has really ceased, peaceably, to exist any longer.” A little rude in my opinion, but she was a literary giant and me a mere dabbling amateur!

Next, the serious and to some, the slightly boring bit:

The introduction of the internal combustion engine had eventually sounded the death knell for steam powered road vehicles and the Burrell Engineering works closed its doors in 1928. With industry very thin on the ground (the main employers being Thetford Moulded Products and Norfolk Canneries), jobs in equally short supply and people leaving Thetford to seek employment further afield, the town desperately needed investment; so it was that in December 1952 William Ellis Clarke, Thetford’s Town Clerk, after reading a newspaper article about the London County Council funding the expansion of a town in Middlesex, suggested that Thetford should follow suit. Prior to 1952, Thetford may have stood little chance of consideration for such a project, being, as it was

then, without even a basic sewerage system.

So, now the scatological bit all about the sewerage system!

Proposals for a sewerage system submitted in 1871 were rejected, revisited in 1909 and rejected again. A 1938 investigation by the Medical Officer of Health recorded that only 23% of households had a flush toilet which drained into a cess-pool or the river, 45% had pail closets which had to be emptied by hand – the waste generally being collected by the “honeycart” or night soil man, the remaining 32% - 414 homes still employed the ancient privy middens which were generally unemptied and relied upon absorption into the ground, sadly, with the onset of war, little was likely to change. Incredible as it may sound now, yes, really, as late as the middle of the twentieth century, a man was employed to come and take buckets of poo from your lavvy! You try telling that to the youngsters of today and they won’t believe you! Anyway, enough with the Monty Python and back to business (If you’ll excuse the pun!). So, it was not until 1949, when at last the installation of a sewerage system was undertaken by the Corporation with which, within seven years, it was possible to connect all urban properties.

THE FIRST STEPS & BARNAM CROSS ESTATE

Fit at last for the twentieth century, Thetford embarked on its campaign to expand the town and attract industry and employment. Five years of bureaucracy and red tape ensued before any agreement was reached, but the Town Council were determined to fight to give Thetford a chance of development. Proposals were agreed upon and in 1957 an agreement was signed to build 1,500 houses providing homes for up to 5000 Londoners who would migrate to the town along with some of the companies who had agreed to relocate – household

names at the time such as Thermos, Danepak, Conran and later, Jeyes, along with many other businesses that began to populate the town’s new industrial area. So it was that the Barnham Cross Estate came into being providing schools, shops, 877 houses along with 523 garages, although, there was no allocated parking – it must have seemed inconceivable in the 1950s that the 2+ car household would be the norm one day!

REDCASTLE FURZE, ABBEY FARM & THE LADIES ESTATES

In 1960 a further 5000 people boosted the population to 17,000 necessitating further building of another 1500 new homes on Redcastle Furze estate. Adopting the Radburn style of housing these properties front on to a pedestrianised area with rear access only for vehicles, creating a safer environment for families. Many of the houses on this development employed the “Anglian” style, built of precast concrete sections and assembled on site, a design created by the Danish company Larsen & Nielsen in the 1940s – being cost effective and quick to build, these houses were exactly what was needed for overspill expansion.

1967 saw ground broken for the Abbey Farm estate, to be built with closes leading off the central spine of Canterbury Way which meandered river like on the North side of the Ouse between Brandon Road and Station Road providing a further 1000 houses – by now the planners had grasped the idea of a one household, multiple car ownership and so provided 1.5 parking spaces for each property with many on-site or integral garages – which as we all know are ideally suited for conversion to living space or for the storage of anything but cars!

During early 1970s with 25,000 families still on the waiting list to move to expansion towns including Thetford, the need for housing was still pressing,

giving birth to the “Ladies” estate, the last of the overspill housing, again built with closes leading off the central spine of Anne Bartholomew Way and named after famous women, all with Norfolk connections

THETFORD NEW TOWN?

To slightly misquote Michael Caine, “Not a lot of people know this”.

In 1966, Norfolk County Council suggested that Thetford had potential for even greater expansion. Controversial proposals were mooted to increase the population to 50,000 with a long-term goal of 75,000 by expanding along the Ouse valley as far as Two Mile Bottom and putting it into the New Town category rather than an expansion town. 1967 plans to facilitate growth to 40,000 at that stage were approved, however, subsequent elections voted out some of the pro-expansion councillors and by this time, the expansion plans welcomed just a few years before were being contested by many, including some of the London Expansion pioneers who didn’t want to see their adopted home town grow further, signalling the end of an era which had brought 46 companies and 9000 jobs to Thetford.

But today, with an ever-increasing population, the need for more housing is pressing, bringing inevitably new housing developments and although many people agree that they are needed, not everyone wants them in their town. So, with a planned 5000 new homes over a 30-year period being built at Kingsfleet, there are many that feel this town is getting too big and isn’t what it used to be - an opinion that many may have voiced in the 1950s who did not favour expansion. Whatever our views, perhaps we should rejoice in the fact that Thetford is still a lovely historic market town in a beautiful part of the country and not the massive New Town it could have become.

‘Commencement of the Abbey Farm Project 1968’ - Courtesy G.

Photograph

Balaam, © 1969 Norwich Mercury Series.

Left to Right - John Chick (P.S.O.), Les Jones (Agent) and Ken Balaam (Financial Administrator)

Letters to the Editor

Back by popular demand, we are publishing a a few of the letters and correspondence we have received from some of our avid local readers.

Dear Editor,

I would like to issue a public warning: the squirrels in the park are organizing. I’ve seen them holding what looked suspiciously like a tactical meeting near the big oak tree.

They are not afraid. They are not cute. One of them stared me down while I ate my sandwich. I swear it mouthed “You’re next.”

Please advise.

Sincerely,

Marlene Withers, Victim of Acorn-Based Harassment

was on the roof of the post office wearing a tiny scarf. I don’t know if we have a rogue prankster or a particularly adventurous flamingo on our hands, but I, for one, support our new plastic overlord. That thing has seen more of this town than I have.

Sincerely,

Gerald “Gerry” P., Flamingo Watch Commander

Dear Editor,

This is less of a complaint and more of a cry for answers: who is moving the pink lawn flamingo around the town?

Last Tuesday it was in the flower boxes in front of The Carnegie. On Wednesday, it was proudly guarding gravestones in St Cuthberts. Yesterday it

Dear Editor,

To the individual who stole the church bake sale sign last weekend: may you step on a Lego.

That sign was hand-painted by Mildred Holloway, who is 87 years old and blind in one eye, and she still managed to draw a near-perfect cupcake. That’s art, and you stole it.

We hope you enjoy your stolen morality and possibly stale brownies.

May the Lord forgive you. We’re still deciding. Sister Gladys & the Bake Team Avengers

Dear Editor,

Is anyone going to address the escalating goose situation by the river?

They have taken over the walking path. I asked one to move and it hissed at me. I’m not saying we’re under avian dictatorship, but I now walk my dog around the entire park out of respect (and fear).

Please advise local authorities to either negotiate a treaty or bring in a professional. Preferably one wearing shin guards.

Help,

Danielle F. (Held Hostage by Honkers)

Dear Editor,

It is great to see that the Guild Hall clock has finally been fixed, for over two years I have said to my wife “For the love of punctuality, could someone fix the wall clock in the town hall?”

It’s been ten minutes fast for two years. This means I arrive early, leave annoyed, and question the very nature of time. My wife says I’ve started mistrusting microwaves and sundials.

Let’s all agree: if we can budget for an annual “Petunia Planting Ceremony,” ongoing we can afford two AA batteries.

Ticked off (but not on time), Raymond P.

Dear Editor,

I propose we bring back the town crier. Not because I think it’s practical, but because our current method of “posting announcements on the community Facebook page and hoping someone sees them between cat memes and conspiracy theories” is failing.

Plus, shouting “HEAR YE, HEAR YE” in public is wildly underrated.

Just something to cry about, Richard T.

Dear Editor,

Quick question: is there an official process to become a town centre street performer? Or is it just “show up with a hat and some confidence”?

Asking because yesterday I witnessed:

A man playing the accordion and selling insurance

A child reciting Shakespeare next to someone rapping over bagpipes

A woman selling handmade socks while yodeling It was… eclectic. But also, it gave me ideas.

Yours in entrepreneurial spirit, “Future Harmonica Hero” (Name withheld until I perfect my act)