Liz Vickers is a District Councillor for Lancaster South ward and a resident of Fakenham.
Secret Fakenham..Shh! Sometimes I want to keep it secret, just as it is now, because one of the best things about Fakenham is its community spirit. The type of warm-hearted community where the Crown Inn pub provided free Christmas meals for those in need; a homeless man knocks at a door and the couple who live there pay for him to spend the night in a hotel and locals give shelter to an elderly lady who suddenly finds herself alone and homeless at Christmas. That’s the Fakenham I love.
Our exquisite Georgian market square is overlooked by the imposing medieval church of St Peter and Paul, its clock striking the passing hours. Thursday sees the hustle and bustle of our historic weekly market, which has been running since the 13th Century. I browse the stalls, picking up some cheeses and woven baskets for my bathroom. By the time I make it through the crowds to the fish van, they have sold out of Cromer crabs. Shopping in Fakenham is definitely on the up, with a good range of independent local shops. I pop into Flour and Bean for coffee and cake. Then off to inspect a resident’s leaking gutters.
Morning starts fresh and bright, one of those clear, sunny days before the real freeze of winter sets in, that showcases the Norfolk sky at its best. Get a phone call from a resident I have been trying to rehouse. Good news, they have now got a permanent home. That’s raised my spirits. My Golden Labrador, Scout, is keen to be out and about. First stop, the church, all busy with preparation for the Christmas tree festival. I’m greeted warmly by the lady in charge, but Scout is quite frisky, and I’m worried about those trees!
Onwards down Hall Staithe. Staithe means a landing place for boats, and it used to be an important part of town before the river was diverted to Fakenham Mill. I am passionate about history, not so much the big stuff, but the ordinary lives of our ancestors. I love wandering in the older parts of town and always feel a sense of place. We potter down to the Goggs Mill picnic site. Despite the thrum of traffic from the A148, it is peaceful. Scout sniffs around and greets a few other dogs. We retrace our steps while I take a call from another resident. I’m hoping to get coffee at Q’s on the corner of Quaker Lane but arrive too late. Down Quaker Lane is the sugar pink Manor House, once the home of the Peckover family. Joseph Peckover started a bank in part of what is now Boots. He later merged with other Norfolk family banks to form Barclays. Further on is the still elegant, early 16th Century Grove House with its Cromwellian connections. The gates are open, and I can see the beautifully manicured lawns. The gentleman who tends the grounds appears. I congratulate him on his handiwork. We have a friendly chat, but Scout is restless, so I move on swiftly. The heavens open but I can’t deny Scout her off lead romp in Aldiss Park. A typical Labrador she will play “fetch” for hours. By now the rain is beating down and we make our soggy way back. I reflect on the past lives of those that made Fakenham what it is today. Those who toiled in the Mill and lived in the narrow streets. I am reminded of those poignant words by George Eliot, “ the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs”.
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