Walk 88 -- Horsey Gap to Walcott Gap

Ages: Colin was 61 years and 144 days. Rosemary was 58 years and 286 days.
Weather: Warm and sunny – a real contrast to yesterday!
Location: Horsey Gap to Walcott Gap.
Distance: 8½ miles.
Total distance: 662 miles.
Terrain: Along the beach on firmish sand and an occasional bit of concrete platform.
Tide: Out.
Rivers to cross: None.
Ferries: None.
Piers: None.
Kissing gates: None.
Pubs: None.
‘English Heritage’ properties: None.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: None.
How we got there and back: We drove – with bikes on the back of the car – from Isleham to Walcott where we parked just off the road by the sea wall. It was a beautiful day, and people walking by were friendly and chatty. We also saw a tall ship sailing by on the horizon.We cycled to the caravan site at Horsey Gap on back roads with minimal traffic, so we both enjoyed it enormously – unlike yesterday. We chained our bikes to a post and walked over the dunes to the beach.
At the end, it was so nice to walk off the beach to the car which was just there. We had tea and biscuits, then drove back to the caravan site to pick up the bikes. Just as he lifted them to put on the rack, Colin’s catheter split again! Fortunately there was a toilet block nearby. Eventually we drove back to Isleham in the dark.

What a difference a day makes! Today the sky was blue, it was sunny and warm, the tide was out and the beaches were stunningly beautiful. We were different people! We decided to put yesterday behind us and concentrate on the moment, and we both enjoyed today’s Walk enormously. We climbed up on to the dunes at Horsey Gap, and down on to the wide firm sand. It was good to be alive! It was great to be walking along a huge open space watching the sun catching in the surf.

We were watching the birds. We came across a young guillemot sitting on the sand, and it didn’t seem bothered about us getting close. We think it was distressed, but it didn’t seem to be injured in any way. It could fly, but was reluctant to do so. Perhaps it was just tired. We also saw oystercatchers, ringed plovers and a kestrel.

After a couple of miles the dunes ended. We came to the first of nine artificial rock islands which have been constructed at low water mark in a bid to stem coastal erosion around Sea Palling. This one-street village suffered terribly in the floods of 1953. I remember watching a documentary on TV about it – a man related how he was a teenager at the time and had gone to Norwich for a job interview. He came home in the dark on the last bus, but the driver couldn’t get down into the village because of the water. The weather was so wild the boy was advised not to go any further on foot, so he spent the night at the bus driver’s house. The next morning he walked down to where his home had been – and there was nothing! Not a brick of his house remained, and it was never found, nor the bodies of his parents and sister. Fifty years later he still couldn’t believe how his whole life disappeared in one night like that, and he broke down in tears.The effect the rock islands seem to have had is to give a ‘scalloped’ edge to the sand! I hope they have been effective in stemming the floods. We sat down on the edge of one of them and ate our lunch. We seemed to take a long time to pass them (we didn’t call in at Sea Palling) but then they did stretch for two miles. After that, we were walking along the bottom of soft cliffs. Fortunately the tide was out, otherwise I think we would have had difficulty getting along. Wooden groynes had been constructed parallel to the shore, but how effective these are in holding on to the sand I don’t know. We walked between them and the cliffs because it was easier.As we approached the hamlet of Happisburgh (pronounced ‘Hayesboro’) we began to come across parts of buildings embedded in the sand. We even found a Second World War ‘pillbox’ which was completely upsidedown! We saw a lot of houses very close to the edge of these soft cliffs, and felt sorry for the owners. In one place we saw a garden shed with one corner actually over the edge of the cliff! The way the fences were placed, these people had obviously lost most of their garden. One man – whose house was very near the edge – was hammering loudly. We wondered if he was attempting to nail the cliff together! (Colin wickedly suggested that perhaps he was nailing up a ‘For Sale’ notice!)

We were walking between the cliffs and the parallel groynes (fortunately not too near the cliffs) when we heard a sudden noise – “Who-o-o-omph!” We both wheeled round just in time to see a whole section of the cliff slide down into a heap – an avalanche! The heavy rain yesterday must have loosened it. We felt a bit shocked. If the tide hadn’t been so far out, we may well have been walking under that cliff! Then we noticed a similar fall only a few yards back – that looked very recent too. The cliffs are made of loosely packed sand over shale, not a very stable combination.We rounded a corner where the cliff stuck out a bit, and what a mess on the beach! Bits of broken breakwater, rocks, pieces of buildings rounded by the sea – we could hardly get by. A concrete walkway, which had been constructed on the face of the cliff to take a path down a gradient to the beach, was lurching precariously and had been snapped off half way down leaving a fifteen foot drop for anyone foolish enough to try to use it. The whole place looked like a war zone! It confirmed our decision never to buy a property within a mile of a clfftop.We were a bit upset that we had FORGOTTEN OUR CHOCOLATEyet again! The trouble is, we put it in the cool box to stop it melting, and forget to take it out when we leave the car. However, we didn’t let it spoil what had been a lovely Walk. We had hardly met a soul all day – just a few local dog-walkers when we were near civilisation. As we approached Walcott Gap we had a concrete platform to walk on which was easier. When we arrived, it was so nice that we only had to climb a short flight of steps from the beach, and our car was just there.

That ended Walk no.88, we shall pick up Walk no.89 next time at Walcott Gap. We had tea and biscuits (and chocolate!), before driving back to the caravan site to pick up the bikes. As he lifted them to put on the rack, Colin’s catheter split again! This has happened so many times recently, he thinks it is a bad batch. Fortunately there was a toilet block on the caravan site so he was able to change it without too much embarrassment. But it delayed us even more, and we had to drive back to Isleham in the dark.

Walk 87 -- Caister-on-Sea to Horsey Gap

Ages: Colin was 61 years and 143 days. Rosemary was 58 years and 285 days.
Weather: Wet and windy – horrible!
Location: Caister-on-Sea to Horsey Gap, via Hemsby.

Distance: 9 miles.

Total distance: 653½ miles.

Terrain: Firm sandy beaches and dunes – walking into horizontal rain!

Tide: Going out.

Rivers to cross: None.

Ferries: None.

Piers: None.

Kissing gates: None.

Pubs: The ‘Fisherman’s Return’ at Winterton where Colin drank Woodforde’s Wherry and I enjoyed a refreshing glass of Stowford Press cider.

‘English Heritage’ properties: No.25, Caister Roman Fort.

Ferris wheels: None.

Diversions: None.

How we got there and back: We were staying with Paul and Caroline in Isleham. We drove – with bikes on the back of the car – from Isleham to Horsey Gap where we parked in a caravan site. The site owner told us that it was possible to cycle along the dunes to Winterton, that there was a gravel path most of the way and that he had done it. It saved us a couple of miles, but it was bumpy and very soft in places. Our bikes got covered in sand, so it wasn’t worth it. Then, with all the effort, Colin’s catheter fell apart! Luckily, the ‘real ale’ pub in Winterton was just about to open, so I bought the drinks while he sorted himself out in the toilets. The rain tipped down while we were in there, but stopped as we came out. We eventually got to Caister and chained our bikes to a post where we had ended the last walk.

At the end, we were cold, tired, hungry and wet! In other words we were both p****d off!! We had some tea and biscuits, and then we felt a bit better. We drove back to Caister and had a quick look at the remains of a Roman fort. Then we picked up the bikes and drove back to Isleham.

We should have paid more attention to the weather forecast, but we didn’t. Since the whole country – except the east coast – was bathed in sunshine all day, we thought it would soon clear the east coast. It didn’t. We have always been told to listen to the locals. We shouldn’t have. It was hard cycling through Winterton Dunes in the soft sand – as advised by the caravan site owner where we parked the car – and the effort made Colin’s catheter split which put him in a potentially embarrassing position and a very bad mood. It wouldn’t have been much further – and certainly a lot quicker and easier – to have gone round by road. So today’s Walk did not even start well!

It got even worse! It was lunchtime before we stowed our bikes by the shed-type ice cream booth in Caister where we had finished the last Walk. It was shut, so we borrowed a couple of their plastic chairs and tried unsuccessfully to sit out of the wind. Then the rain started, and it was relentless! Most of our route was along the beach today, and it should have been glorious – but we struggled along with wind and rain blowing into our faces so hard that it hurt!
I was wearing my full wet weather gear of gaiters, overtrousers and kagoule with the drawstring round my hood pulled tight and the built-in peak keeping some of the rain off my glasses. My worst problems were condensation inside my kag, and getting overheated so that my glasses steamed up and I couldn’t see. That was bad enough, but I could cope because I had the right gear. Colin, on the other hand, insists on buying the cheapest stuff which doesn’t fit and it leaks. He is also b****y-minded about always using an umbrella – in that wind? The swearing that went on every time it blew inside out – which it did every couple of minutes – was ear-scorching. After Caister, where we followed a bit of an old railway line before going on to the beach in the teeth of the wind, we passed places called California, Scratby, Newport and Hemsby – but we saw none of them. We just concentrated on moving along the wide sandy beach beyond the dunes. At one time Colin walked so far ahead of me that he was just a dot in the distance. I got very upset, because if anything had happened that I couldn’t go on, I was completely on my own. He wouldn’t turn round, and I felt very alone. Eventually he did, and I managed to signal to him to stop. He seemed oblivious of my distress – typical b****y selfish male!
When we reached Hemsby the rain seemed to ease a little, so we stopped by a building to eat some more lunch. We realised we had left our energy-boosting chocolate in the car – we were very upset about that. Nothing was right for Colin, all he could think about was his b****y broken umbrella. I had a real go at him about his stinginess when it comes to buying the proper gear. We were both in the foulest of moods. I remembered that Mum and Dad had once holidayed in Hemsby with Diana in the early seventies, but neither of us had ever been there before. A few families came through the gap in the dunes with children and dogs, but they soon went because it started raining again.
We plodded on. I tried to appreciate that we were walking along a stunningly beautiful piece of our coastline, but that line of positive thought was very difficult under the circumstances. We passed Winterton without noticing because all we could see on the shore side were dunes. We really had no idea where we were, so we decided to climb the dunes and find the track that we had cycled along earlier in the day. We couldn’t find it – we were really lost! What’s more, we were both cold, wet, tired and miserable. We had the most terrible row about nothing in particular – we both had murder in mind – and then we found the track. Then it was time for the ‘I told you so’ saga, so we stomped along in angry silence for miles and miles. At least the wind was not so sharp in the dunes, or was it that the weather was at last easing?
As we passed through the gate in the corner of the caravan site where we had parked the car, we noticed that it had definitely stopped raining. The dunes are quite high at that point, so we decided to climb them and take a last look at the sea. As we got to the top, the sun came out. What a transformation! From near darkness, suddenly we had light. With a background of a slate-grey sky behind white rolling surf – it was wild and beautiful! I took the first and only pictures of our Walk.
That ended Walk no.87, we shall pick up Walk no.88 next time on the dunes at Horsey Gap. We descended inland to our car, and fell upon biscuits, tea and chocolate! We felt a little better then but not much. On our way back through Caister, we stopped to look at the remains of an old Roman fort. No walls left more than ankle high, but truthfully we were not much interested. We just wanted to get warm, dry and fed! We picked up our soggy bikes, and returned to Isleham in the dark.

One day we will return to this bit of coast in better weather, because we were quite unable to appreciate it today. That was the wettest Walk so far.

UPDATE: By mid-2009, we had not done so!

Walk 86 -- Hopton, via Great Yarmouth, to Caister-on-Sea

Cecilia, Jay and Kate joined us for the first nine miles of this walk, making it a B.L.I.S.T.E.R.S. walk once more!Ages: Colin was 61 years and 141 days. Rosemary was 58 years and 283 days.

Weather: Overcast, but remaining dry.
Location: Hopton-on-Sea to Caister-on-Sea, via Great Yarmouth.
Distance: 11½ miles. Total distance: 644½ miles.
Terrain: Clifftop path then along the bottom of the cliffs, but mostly concrete and roads in Great Yarmouth. Sand dunes at the end.
Tide: Going out.
Rivers to cross: No.30, the Yare, at Great Yarmouth.
Ferries: None. Piers: Nos.20, 21 and 22 at Great Yarmouth. The first was derelict, the second was a fishing jetty, and the third had a café and amusements on it.
Kissing gates: None.
Pubs: None, we stopped at a café instead.
‘English Heritage’ properties: Nos. 22, 23 and 24 in Great Yarmouth – Row111 houses, an old merchant’s house and a greyfriars priory. (We just had a cursory glance, then went on guided tours the next day when we had more time.)
Ferris wheels: None. (Cecilia was very relieved!)
Diversions: None – though we took a short cut avoiding the end of the South Denes peninsula because it was industrial (in accordance with additional rule no.3).
How we got there and back: We were staying with Kate and John in Hopton-on-Sea. We walked out of their house, through Hopton village to the clifftop and continued our walk from the spot where we left it yesterday.
The others had had enough by the time we reached Great Yarmouth, so they caught a bus back from there. It was only a quarter past three, so Colin and I walked on to Caister. There we walked to the main street where we found a bus stop, and we only had to wait ten minutes for a bus back to Hopton.

Again, it was fun to have company for this Walk! We strolled along to the end of the caravans where we came to a sunken path which ended in a set of steps leading down to the beach. According to the map, the public footpath continues along the top of the cliff past a golf course, but all we could find ahead were brambles hiding a fence. We assumed – with the coast eroded the way it is in these parts – that the actual path had long since fallen into the sea. The Golf Club certainly weren’t giving up any of their land, so we had to descend and walk along the top of the beach where the sand wasn’t too soft. Further on we passed the remains of concrete steps which were slewed sideways due to erosion of the soft sandstone This confirmed our surmise that the original path is now somewhere under the waves.
At the Gorleston end of the cliffs, there was a notice which read:

PRIVATE LAND
THIS IS NOT A PUBLIC
FOOTPATH
WARNING
YOU ARE IN DANGER OF
BEING FATALLY INJURED
BY FLYING GOLF BALLS

Also PARTS OF THE CLIFF EDGE ARE
UNSTABLE AND ARE LIABLE TO COLLAPSE

We somehow got the impression that the Golf Club was not open to compromise!As soon as we reached Gorleston-on-Sea, we were able to walk along a concrete prom. Kate told us that she comes to Gorleston for her everyday shopping as it has a number of useful little shops. She also remarked that it was a pity we were walking along the lower prom because there were some quite nice houses which we couldn’t see. Later, Jay, Cecilia and myself did go up to the top, but this was only to find a loo. Then I had a nosebleed, and had to sit on a bench for about ten minutes until it had subsided.
(I am rather concerned about the severity and frequency of nosebleeds I have been having in recent months. Earlier in the Summer I had my blood pressure checked – but it was normal. Still the problem continued, so next I visited the Doctor – first time in two years I’m delighted to say – to ask if they were a symptom of anything nasty. He said that if my blood pressure was normal, then no. I must just have a weak lining inside my nostril. That put my mind at rest, but they are still a wretched nuisance when they occur. I have noticed that I tend to have them when the weather is very hot, or when I have done a lot of physical exercise. Since both these circumstances have happened frequently, and often simultaneously, over the past six months – I’m on to a loser, aren’t I?)When I had recovered, we continued along the lower prom adjacent to a wide sandy beach which looked very attractive. It had a large paddling pool which is filled with water every high tide. On the prom we came across a Rotary Club wishing well with the following rhyme on the lid:

THIS CONCRETE TOP MAY NOT LOOK GOOD

BUT KEEPS YOUR MONEY WHERE IT SHOULD
DROP YOUR COIN DOWN THROUGH THE LID
IF NOT A PENNY TRY A QUID
MAKE A WISH BUT DO NOT TELL
FOR YOUR HELP WE WISH YOU WELL

Since they had asked so nicely, we all dropped a few coins in!

We sauntered on to South Pier – which is really just a concrete jetty where the River Yare comes out into the sea. Like so many rivers on this east coast, a shingle spit has formed southwards from where the river’s mouth should be, but in this case it is only two miles long – not ten miles as was the case with the River Ore. Great Yarmouth’s shingle spit is covered in buildings, it is the industrial part of the port. As we started to walk up the western bank of the river, we realised we were not in a very nice area. It was a mixture of old and modern industrial buildings, and it all looked tatty and forlorn. Across the river it was even worse – chimneys and storage tanks seemed to be the norm. Secretly I was rather glad because, following additional rule no.3, we could miss it out thus saving ourselves at least a couple of miles.
According to my internet map, there was a ferry across the river which would have saved us some mileage. We saw no sign of it (unless you count part of a very derelict jetty behind a high wire fence) and there was no way we could end this Walk on one side of the river and start the next Walk on the other because we had only done three miles. So we just had to walk round. It wasn’t very interesting – through car parks and past industrial units – and I felt a bit embarrassed for my friends who are used to tramping over the South Downs with all its glorious rural views.
After two miles we got to the busy road bridge which crosses the river. Next to it is a large and interesting-looking thatched building. We were rather strung out by then (me at the back, as usual – I just cannot seem to walk as fast as other people) so I passed it with barely a glance in order to catch up with the others across the bridge. We were then in the old part of Great Yarmouth, and fortunately the eastern bank of the river had recently been refurbished with tourists in mind. That meant that there were benches to sit on, badly needed because we hadn’t had our lunch and we had been wondering where we could stop and eat it. (The only problem was, there were no toilets – we just had to hold it!) It was while we were sitting there that we noticed the attractiveness of the big old building across the water. Suddenly Colin said, “I’m going to find out what it is!” and he stomped off. When he came back he reported that it was a 19^th century ice house – in other words, a fridge!
We continued south along the east side of the river, and turned off to visit Greyfriars’ Cloisters and a Row111 House. We could only look through a locked iron gate at the cloister which is just a fragment remaining of a Franciscan friary, but apparently contains some early medieval wall paintings which were only discovered when they were trying to repair bomb damage after the Second World War. Entry is by pre-arranged appointment only, which we hadn’t made so that was that. We would have had to wait an hour for a guided tour of the Row111 house and the Old Merchant’s House, so we posed for photographs by an old water pump, and left. (Colin and I visited the two houses the next day after we had left Kate’s.)

Row Houses, Great Yarmouth

In the 13^th century there was a flourishing herring trade in Great Yarmouth. A unique housing development evolved on the shingle spit between the river and the sea – a pattern of main streets linked by closely spaced parallel alleys. These were known as the Rows, and there were 157 in all. The town became very prosperous, and the Row Houses were rebuilt in brick, flint and tile. They were the homes of rich merchants. In later centuries, as prosperity declined, permission was refused to build beyond the town walls, so the populace built in their gardens and divided their houses into vertical tenements. The Row Houses became the homes of the poor.

By 1939, few of the Row Houses remained. The house in Row111, which we toured, was occupied by three families at that time, up to seven people in one bedroom! Great Yarmouth was practically flattened during the War, and now the house in Row111 is the only one left. Even that was badly damaged by bombs, but it was later restored. At one time it was a lodging house for herring girls from Scotland. Later that day we overheard some local children playing, and they were yelling at each other in a distinct Geordie accent! The house also had a 17^th century Dutch influence – one of the fireplaces was surrounded by tiles of the Delft style.

The Old merchant’s House, situated in a nearby street, also survived the bombing. It has the most beautiful plaster-work ceilings. Part of the house was latterly lived in by a dressmaker, and the exhibition included life-size mannequins with tape recordings of their supposed conversations.

We carried on southwards alongside the river, but the smartened up touristy bit ran out quite soon and then it turned horrible. We really had had enough of grim industrial buildings, and I declared the rest of the peninsula an industrial complex which we didn’t have to walk through if it was quicker to miss it out. However, marked on the map was an intriguing feature which I didn’t want to miss out – Nelson’s Monument. So we decided to take the quickest route to it, then turn north. We turned away from the river, and suddenly came upon ancient town walls which weren’t marked on the map. A notice explained the history. Some of the words were obliterated, but this is what I think it said:

IN AD 1260 KING HENRY III GAVE A CHARTER TO THE BURGESSES OF GREAT YARMOUTH CONFERRING UPON THEM THE LIBERTY TO ENCLOSE THE TOWN WITH A WALL AND MOAT. THE WORK COMMENCED IN 1284 IN THE REIGN OF EDWARD I AND COMPLETED IN 1396. THE WHOLE WALL WAS ABOUT 2200 YARDS IN LENGTH AND 23 FEET HIGH. IT HAD 10 GATES AND 16 TOWERS AND ENCLOSED 133 ACRES. A MOAT PASSABLE WITH BOATS WAS ADDED MAKING THE FORTRESS VERY STRONG AND COMPLETE.We walked alongside the wall for a bit, then exited through one of the towers. I could tell the others were getting tired because they just wanted to speed on and not look at things. Besides, we still hadn’t found that elusive toilet! (Colin and I had a closer look at the medieval remains the next day.)We hurried on through dull and tatty streets until we came to it – Nelson’s Column!! Yes, an exact replica of the London one – except that this one was built first! Horatio Nelson – of Trafalgar fame – was born in nearby Burnham Thorpe and first went to sea from Great Yarmouth. When he won the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805 – losing his life on the battleship ‘Victory’ – the townspeople erected a statue in his honour. They put it on top of a 160-foot column so that it could be seen from all parts of the port. A few years later, it was decided to honour his name in London by clearing a number of hovels and making a large open space which they called Trafalgar Square. They then copied Great Yarmouth’s column, making it a few feet higher because London was considered to be more important. Whereas London’s Nelson’s Column is regularly maintained and cleaned, and is known and loved by all, the original column at Great Yarmouth fell into decay. You would have difficulty finding any reference to it in guide books. We found it derelict, surrounded by fencing telling us to keep out because of the danger of falling masonry, and located in the centre of a tatty industrial estate! It really did look as if it was in the middle of a factory, and was surrounded by car parks. Nelson stood high on his shaky column, yesterday’s hero forgotten and unloved! Sad, isn’t it?We walked across to the seafront which was nearby. Lovely beach, but we were still surrounded by industrial units. There we turned north – south there was a power station which we were glad to turn our backs on. Even so, the prom we were walking along had an air of neglect about it with cracked stones, sand blown all over the place and tufts of weeds sticking out here and there. The beautiful sandy beach was utterly deserted. We passed the Pleasure Beach – it was closed and looked very run down. Yes, I know it was the nether end of the season and the children were back at school, but the weather was still summery and other places were open. Colin and I remembered coming to that very Pleasure Beach in 1990 when we camped in Norfolk over the May half term. Then it was up and running, and Great Yarmouth had been buzzing – it was only 13½years ago. (In actual fact, Cecilia was very relieved that there was no Ferris wheel – she had been dreading that I might insist she ride on one because it is in our ‘rules’!) Next we came to Wellington Pier with a lovely theatre at the shore end – both closed and derelict. We all felt gloomy. What a dump!

Our B.L.I.S.T.E.R.S. friends had had enough. We came to a café on the prom which was actually open – and that was it! Trouble was, it was only a booth and so had no toilets. I went in and asked where the nearest ones were, and was directed to a nearby building which had a kind of jungle inside(!) We found them – what a relief! We went back to the café and had a cup of tea. Kate was all for leading us to the bus station there and then, and Cecilia and Jay wanted to go back too. But it was only quarter past three, and we have never packed in a day’s Walk so early. So we parted company by mutual agreement. They went home, and once more Colin and I were on our own.

Great Yarmouth seemed to brighten up from there on. We walked out on to a little fishing jetty which had several fishermen with rods at the end. Further on we came to Britannia Pier, and this one was much more lively! It wasn’t very long, but it had a small funfair on it with children buzzing round on little roundabouts. (No Ferris wheel!) The beach was absolutely deserted, though. It got very wide after the pier, a vast expanse of beautiful golden sand. We passed a new swimming pool complex (indoors) with happy splashing sounds emanating from it. After that there was a ribbon of gardens for about half a mile. There were lots of pools, streams and bridges in them – very pretty and an ingenious use of a marshy area.

We came to the dunes. They were pretty flat with tussocks of grass and lots of paths leading through. We started to take a straight course cutting off the corner, but the sand was too soft to walk comfortably so we made towards the road on the shore side. This ran out when it reached a caravan park, and we were stuck with the sand then. We waved at all the CCTV cameras which seemed to be everywhere, and continued ever northwards. There was a sort of path along the top of the beach, and the sand was a bit firmer there so we coped. We passed a golf course and a small race course (it wasn’t for horses, could have been dogs – or people!) and were laying bets as to whether the rain would hold off until we finished the Walk.

Eventually we came to Caister-on-Sea. We passed a lifeboat station and came to the end of a road where there was a shed-type ice cream booth on the beach.

That ended Walk no.86, we shall pick up Walk no.87 next time at the ice cream shed at Caister-on-Sea. We walked inland until we came to the main street where we found a bus stop. We only had to wait ten minutes for a bus which took us back to Hopton-on-Sea. The rain just about held off until we got back to Kate’s.

PS When Kate read this post, she pointed out that Nelson's column in Great Yarmouth has Britannia on top, not Nelson! Whoops!!