For anyone that’s been reading along, you’ll understand why I went to this random village in Suffolk – I have now completed a trilogy of places named O*ford so I will try to find somewhere phonetically different next week!
Before I quote (rip-off) Wikipedia and give you some history on Orford, lets talk about my bread baking skills… I mean I don’t want to start calling myself a prodigy and releasing recipe’s on the internet but…
Anyway back to
Wikipedia my blog. Orford is a small town in Suffolk that was an important port and fishing town in the middle-ages. It’s around 105 miles from London and takes 2 hours in the car, it has a well preserved English Heritage castle and a handful of popular shops, pubs and cafes – you can buy fresh fish from the Quay or get a seafood fix from the Butley-Orford Oysterage and smokehouse. I packed a sandwich so I swerved these options (again, because I’m cheap) but even out of season they were all bustling.
Starting at the castle, I walked down to the Quay that overlooks Orford Ness – a National Trust island that, according to google, plays host to an atomic weapons research establishment! I was hoping to get the ferry over, take a closer look and play with something nuclear but the Ferry only runs on selected dates and today wasn’t one of them, so I took a stroll along a walk that was sign-posted ‘The Orford Circular’ instead.
Suffolk is famous for being flat so it wasn’t the most exciting walk – although for what it was lacking in gradients, it made up for in remoteness – I only saw 2 other people on the walk and there were moments of actual silence which was a treat. The Quay came up trumps with a couple of old boats that were pretty too.
The circular walk was around 5 miles long and brought me back to Orford town, literally the only variation in the landscape was this:
More ominously, the pathways were strewn with stripped-bare ears of corn and birds that had been part eaten by something – probably a mutated sea creature that they are working on over at Orford Ness!
Back at the town, I grabbed a quick snap of the church, mainly to practise with the camera but also because I’m aware that some of my regular readers are nuns (you’re welcome sisters!) and headed for the car to start my drive back to London.
A sign post caught my eye on the road back, advertising High House Fruit Farm and a promise of fresh apple juice – I dropped a gear and screeched (slowed, signalled and turned) the car down a narrow country lane and followed it until I reached an empty farm yard with an open door and a chain mail curtain that led to an unattended room filled with glass bottles of different Apple Juices.
Feeling like Fantastic Mr Fox, I picked out a bottle of Cox and Bramley apple juice, paid via the honesty box and went on my merry way… The apple juice was immense, if you get the chance, go and get some of this heaven juice!
Two hours later I was back in London, cosying up with a cool glass of AJ and a slice of fresh toast.
Here ends the O*ford saga. Maybe.