Norwich: Nasal Rot, Papist Spies and the Great Turkey Influx

Norwich is a city that languishes at the very heart of East Anglia situated on the river Wensum. The name itself is derived from the Medieval French word “Noserre-itch” (n: nasal grate) no doubt inspired by a rare kind of aquatic fungus which was prevalent in the area from about 864 to 1341 AD. This unfortunate malady caused an acute form of nostril rot which resulted in the unmanageable sniffing and insufferable twang that came to define the region’s dialect. Even the Pope (Gregory X) appalled by the incessant droning of the inhabitants, felt he had no choice but to excommunicate the whole city. Legend has it that Queen Mary on a visit to the area (enjoying a brief respite from toasting Protestants no doubt) was so appalled by incessant twangle of the voices, that she filled her court with Madagascan whooping monkeys to help render her environment more agreeable.

      The Romans had previously booted and thrust their way through East Anglia, establishing the settlement of Venta Icenorum (which simply means “frosted orifice”) not far from the current situation Norwich now enjoys. In fact many of the place names throughout Norfolk were in fact coined as the Romans marched through the area. There villages and towns were christened after months of sandal-rubbing traipses as the legions marched from the coast to the in-land areas. In fact much of Norfolk bears the titles of various maladies that afflicted the soldiers as they marched. For example Attleborough is derived from the Latin Ataanus Boosafus (n: musty fundament), Cromer, Cronomous (adj: throbbing knee), Lowestoft, Lowes-Pedditus (n: stubbed toe) and Gorleston, Gorluss-Spirimus (adj: sweaty gusset). And the less said about Beccles the better.

      The Normans took control of the area after the invasion of 1066 bringing with them a wealth of ideas to superimpose themselves upon local area and populace.  This included the construction of a castle which was erected to provide an ideal vantage point from which they could gaze over the Wash, no doubt in anticipation of the great turkey influx. The turkey of course replaced the French* in Norfolk whose strange gobblings and warblings were unfathomable to the indigenous population. However the turkeys proved equally as befuddling but at least they didn’t reek of garlic and eat malodorous cheese. These “bootiful” buxom, American birds not only helped get Norfolk on the telly but also provided a thriving industry and gave the denizens of Norwich something to stuff of an evening. Nevertheless despite the incessant gobbling and strutting of meleagris gallopavo, the Normans still managed to erect the wonderfully Gothic cathedral which serves as an emblem of the once dominant power in the region (pre-turkey of course).

      The city has seen many strange comings and goings over the last five hundred or so years, including the Belgian Walloon communities who brought with them the waffle and the Norwich Canary. The aforementioned bird however was considered far too colourful and ornate for the then puritans. The result was many were ensnared, accused of being papist spies, and publically barbecued by the then Protestant weavers. However, canaries generally chirped beautifully and eventually adorned the parlours of many a household where they were quite literally required to sing for their supper rather than contribute to it. Subsequently, the canary population thrived until drastic bombing during the Second World War saw a serious decline in the little yellow songster’s fortunes. Many returned to the Aegean Islands where they were customarily skewered and kebabbed by the indigenous population and sold to British tourists as feathery trinkets.

       Norwich is undoubtedly a beautiful city and is a must visit if one is traveling across East Anglia. It is full of yarns and anecdotal splendour. In fact the region actually takes its full name from the mythological giant Orientalus Anglos, who delighted in dipping his toes into the Wash in the hope of a nibble or two. However, legend has it that he keeled over and drowned leaving only his posterior sticking out of the water which subsequently became known as the Magnus Gigas Cimex or Great Yarmouth as it is known in English.

   The region and indeed Norwich itself is undoubtedly appealing. And being somewhat geographically remote, boasts numerous religious retreats and monasteries which provide well-needed respite from all those Madagascan whoopers. Thoroughly enjoyed my visit...

*An unusual race of people that inhabit a large-ish land mass just off the coast of the UK. They eat snails as well...