The Textiliste heralds from Norfolk. There are a lot of jokes about that: everyone is a second cousin; the language is uniquely strange, the accent suggests a somewhat slow approach to rational thought. All rubbish and the language has some lovely touches – what’s not to like in calling a ladybird a bishy-barney bee? And if you’re not aware where it is, think of England as a kneeing man; Norfolk is the buttock.
Yesterday we visited to see two of her cousins and visit their family home. Only its not there. Their grandfather owned and ran a farm until the mid sixties and these three women spent a large part of their baby years there. We met up, hugged – sod it, why not – and set off for the football club in the small village of Bradenham (pronounced Bradnum) to park and head across the fields.
It was wet, green and devoid of any sign of habitation. Nothing. Not a dip or a bulge. It’s a bit spooky to share such detailed memories of playing in barns, helping with the harvest, feed your own sheep and yet there’s nothing tangible left.
Indeed the only memory trigger was the old dog roses that climbed across the hedges; nature remains even if man retreats.
Later we visited the ancient little church at an even smaller village, Scoulton where amongst the graves were many with the family name of Tufts, including the Textiliste’s great grandfather.
We manage to memorialise the dead, giving a little reminder of our presence; it’s about the only way we do. In a way that’s probably a good thing otherwise the countryside would be despoiled with little markers. nd anyway as I observed as we wandered around and I saw the cousins reminiscing happily it’s in the people that the best memories are formed.
TanGental 
Sounds like a great day. It is the same for us. The homestead my great grandparents owned was destroyed by fire a couple of years ago so the old house is no longer there. But the memories for me and my many cousins remain. Also, the very first farm we lived on as a family until I was ten, is now just a field. We went back to see it, placed bales of hay where the living room would have been, sat and reminisced.
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Sounds like a great day! I never lived close enough to get to know my cousins.
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I know about half mine. I assume the good half..
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I liked your conclusion about memories being about people. I do wonder what happened to the farm.
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Just fields. All the barns and milking parlours and farm houses have gone totally
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Amazing.
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A lovely post – I really like the photograph of the stormy clouds over the fields. I still live where I grew up … and it’s changing before my eyes.
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Nothing stays still does it?
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While housesitting, we did a Tiki Tour around Norfolk, and our hosts looked like we were mad as apparently, we didn’t go to all the right places! You are right it is the people that create the memories and I treasure my two female cousins and the memories we have together.
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My cousins- well those I know- are terrific but there are some I’ve never met .
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What a nice tour and a good visit. It’s satisfying to go back to the places where ancestors lived and remember them–or acknowledge them if we didn’t know them. Things do disappear in their entirety it seems. Walking in the woods, I’ve seen daffodils where there should not have been any and on investigation, realized they had been planted around a cabin long gone.
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That’s lovely isn’t it? My mother collected green tomatoes from a derelict market garden for several years back when I was small. They seeded themselves but never ripened so she made chutney…
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Now that was enterprising! And a good chutney is always nice to have on hand.
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Indeed she chuttled with the best!
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A lovely day , and goodness what a stunning family likeness there is between those cousins.💜
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Yes it’s pretty apparent when you put them together…
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It is indeed…and Dog bombed or is that bummed the photo 💜
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Bit of both
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Pingback: Missing: One Farm #family #memories by Geoff Le Pard – DEEZ – Art, Books & more
Reblogged this on DEEZ – NOW: —-> BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
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Seems you had a great day! Graveyards are the best way getting fast knowledge about the own family tree. Don’t say it lightly that everyone in Norfolk is somehow closely related. Here in the village with approx. 2700 inhabitants, all are demonstrably very closely related in only four bloodlines. Norfolk is a bigger area. 😉 My family and I are the exception as we only moved here 80 years ago. We are the only ones who have our roots in Hungary, Romania and Austria.
xx Michael
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You are the newcomers. I wonder how long before they fully accept you as local!?
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Sadly, never ever! As no one of my siblings wanted to marry some of them – we were all for studies very long outside this community – we can feel what the refugees coming to Germany have to deal with. ;-/ This village somehow seems to be a role model for most areas in Germany. However, we are old enough to stay by ground. Lol As a child i would flee over night. Lol xx Michael
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It’s those looks they give you, part suspicion, part pity for not being a true local…
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Reminds me of my mother’s tales of the Toll House where her grandparents lived. Lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins milling about. My sister and I grew up far from extended family and I envy that sort of closeness.
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They don’t get together as often as the6 should and Covid has certainly not helped.
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Is it common that land like that is left fallow in that part of England? Seems a shame.
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It’s all still farmed though crop rotation may mean a field is fallow some times. The soil in Norfolk is often some of the best so you can bet it’s used to the max. It’s just that the farm itself has completely disappeared.
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Thanks. That is a relief to learn.
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Even if the farm was gone, it sparked wonderful reminiscing and memories. Lovely day, Geoff.
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Your last sentence said it all! I loved for a while with my grandparents and vividly remember the house (which my grandfather built), the chicken coop, the garden, the tiny store on the corner of the street (just known as Joe Stella’s), All gone now, razed by the expansion of the nearby hospital.
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Ah me… life goes on as memories linger
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These are lovely pictures, so green and lush. Man’s mark upon the landscape doesn’t take long to obliterate.
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So true. Just a blip in the continuum of nature…
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Well written, Memories last forever. Nice place to spend your valuable time.
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Beautiful! New follower here
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