A few days ago I mentioned that we had lunch in Great Massingham. Before lunch we had a good look around the church.
Churches are not only a good source of history, which is really stating the obvious, but also a source of coincidences.
We noticed a rather magnificent painting and below it was a plate with the following inscription:
Presented to the church in memory of Mabel A McAnally by her husband The Rector, July 1st, 1931.
The name McAnally rang a bell. Some years ago I put together a website which I called Hethersett- A village at War. This wasn't about an attack on our village but a snapshot of what it was like between the years 1910 and 1950 with particular emphasis on the two World Wars and two specific rectors.
The Rev Frederic Jarvis was Rector during the First World War and spent over a year as an army chaplain on the Western Front. He regularly sent letters home for publication in the Good News magazine- the very same mag that I now edit.
The Rev James McAnally succeeded him and wrote regularly in the lead up to and during the Second World War. His writings are on the website at www.hethersettatwar.weebly.com for anyone interested. They give a fascinating view of the times and an insight into village life 80 years ago.
But back to the co-incidence (never start a sentence with the word but or the word and, I was always told. Why not I say and so nowadays I'm likely to start sentences with either).
Two churchmen with the surname McAnally. It's not a common name so there had to be a connection between Great Massingham's Rev Charles and Hethersett's Rev James. Mabel McAnally's maiden name as I soon found out was La Fontaine. Our James' full name was James Mortimer La Fontaine McAnally.
It took only a few minutes on Ancestry.com to establish that James was indeed the son of Charles and Mabel. Interestingly, Mabel was born in Constantinople in Turkey (now known as Istanbul). Job done. Another coincidence solved. And another interesting aside in my quest for unusual facts
So always keep your eyes peeled for coincidences. They lurk around every corner.
*. *. *
My grandmother had a little joke question. She would ask people "Constantinople is a very long word, but I bet you can't spell it." And of course the answer is IT.
For some reason the following flew into my head. For Christmas one year I was given an autograph book. My mother wrote the following in it which she had obviously picked up from somewhere.
Yys u r
Yys u b
I c u r
2ys 4 me.
Which actually translates into
Too wise you are
Too wise you be
I see you are
Too wise for me.
I tend to think the poem is spoiled by actually ending with a real word.
*. *. *
I know I said that yesterday's blog was the last in my current travelogue but I feel I must tell you about an incredible co- incidence in Santiago de Compestela as I round off our latest travels.
I play a little game to see where the furthest place is that somebody has recognised me and read my blog.
Up to the current trip, the record was held from somebody who spotted me in Sheringham Park which is about 25 miles from where we live.
But something that happened on our trip made mincemeat of that.
But let me tell you first about our Portuguese stalkers. They approached us on the platform in Porto.
"Train to Vigo?" They asked in broken English. There was a very large illuminated board on the platform that clearly said Vigo.
They then got into the same carriage as us and, when we had to change trains, again got into the same carriage.
That evening the other threequarters went to a shop to get some food to bring back to our room. I stayed at the hotel and watched the Spanish equivalent of The Chase which included a crazy woman who answered her questions whilst peddling on an exercise bike in full Tour de France lycra including safety helmet. She didn't make it into the final.
I speak about five words of Spanish most of which involves ordering beer. But I was very proud of answering two of the questions that the contestants, who obviously understood Spanish, got wrong. One was about where the artist Caravaggio took refuge ( on a church) and the other was about which European city has an island of museums (Berlin).
Later in the evening we had what looked like the Spanish equivalent of Who Wants To Be A Millionnaire but wasn't because the top prize was only 30,000 Euros. The contestant seemed to climb the ladder, get a wrong answer and start over again but with the help of their partner. It was all very confusing. One question came up on both shows I watched. It was something along the lines of "The film Schindler's List was filmed in black and white but on the publicity posters a small girl is wearing a raincoat of what colour" and the answer is Roja. If I knew a bit more Spanish I would know what that is!
Anyway back to the story. The other threequarters got food from this shop only to find one of the stalkers had stolen part of her order and was trying to pay for it. Highly suspicious in itself. Then when we went down to breakfast in the hotel there they all were. They were staying in the same hotel!!
But that's not the major coincidence. That came when we went into the bar of a cafe of a posh hotel. This had been recommended by a friend of the other threequarters who lived for a number of years in Spain and is married to a Spaniard. I do hope that's not a derogatory term, you have to be so careful nowadays.
We ordered two coffees and the bill came to about £5 but that included two pieces of cake and some chocolate biscuits which were thrown in free. Same happened at lunch in a walled garden where crisps and olives came free.
Anyway as we sat there, a new holder of the blogettes' record recognised me. I can't believe this happened in a bar in a relatively small city in Spain. "in all the bars in all the world," springs to mind.
We had already spoken to the lady when the gent came over.
"You come from Hethersett and we read your blog," he said. You could have knocked me down with a feather Trevor. How wonderful was this I've gone global?
Not only that the Jessops live in the road we lived in when we first moved to the village. They moved there after we left but live just four doors away from where we were and they know lots of the same people.
So there we were in a cafe bar in Santiago de Compostela talking to people who live less than a mile away . Funny old world Saint* so a big hello to Mike and Theresa.
Then we met Small Feish. He was actually a waiter in the same bar where we returned in the evening. His English was very limited as the other threequarters found out when she tried to find out what the fish of the day was.
"Isa small Feish," he replied.
"Does it come with anything," she asked
"Jus small Feish," he replied.
"Potatoes?" She inquired.
"Non. Small Feish."
She decided to take a chance and ordered the small Feish. It came with small potatoes and small vegetables. The Feish wasn't actually that small.
As we were leaving, he was taking an order from another group of English people.
As we went out the door we once again heard the immortal words "small Feish, only small Feish."
* For those confused by this, it refers to a television football magazine programme from many years ago featuring Londoner Jimmy Greaves and Scotsman Ian St John. Jimmy regularly used the phrase "funny old world Saint."
We had three nights in Santiago de Compostela and found it to be a very interesting place. Once again there were so many cafes, bars and restaurants to chose from and so much history all around. We climbed the tower of the Cathedral and walked along a sloping roof and then walked and walked with the occasional stop for beer, wine and small Feish.
The primary thing I have learnt as a global traveller is to avoid people carrying rolled up umbrellas. You can spot them a mile off. It's 30 degrees and zero chance of rain but still they carry umbrellas. The umbrellas have nothing to do with the weather. They are there to show that those carrying them are tour guides.
They will inevitably be followed by a gaggle of tourists who block pavements and generally get in the way so that global travellers such as ourselves cannot get past.
Now occasionally you might be globally travelling somewhere where it actually is raining or snowing. Then it does get really messy because it's difficult to differentiate between the tour guides and people who just want to keep dry.
And the ultimate rule is never carry a rolled up umbrella yourself. If you do you will find yourself being followed by 50 Japanese or German tourists in no time at all.
I feel I must just take up one more day of your time, however, by talking about San Sebastian tomorrow.