Leicester 13th May Wreake Farm.

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Filed under: Detecting Diary, Training Days — Norfolk Wolf

“Are you still going ahead even though the forecast for the weekend is bad?” “Yep, we don’t let a bit o’ drizzle slow us up none matey, not when there is a bit of detecting to be done.” I had three or four telephone conversations along those lines before the weekend.

I dragged myself out of bed 6 a.m. (yes 6a.m.!) Sunday morning and checked on the weather. Lovely blue skies, well, what I could see through my sleep filled eyes. Bad weather? Bad weather my Aunt Sarah; it was a “bootiful” day.

On the road in plenty of time, out of God’s County into Cambridgeshire and it started clouding over. Rolled into Leicestershire and it started raining, “oh well it might not be a lot, it could pass over.” Pass over? It was as black as yer hat over Will’s mother’s and coming straight down the road! This might put a few of ’em off who are going to turn up and pay on the day.

I set up the tables and gear under the barn to give the talk, as least the people would be in the dry for the first bit anyway!

The cars started arriving and disgorging the occupants, nearly all who had appropriate clothing. There was plenty of talk about the weather. “Don’t you worry about that boy, it’ll clear up by the time I’ve done the talk” Christ, who was I trying to kid, but they looked like a lot of people I’ve seen in a dentist’s waiting- room. They know it’s going to be painful, but they have to go through with it. It wasn’t as if they lived around the corner and could shoot off home, some of them came from as far afield as Scunthorpe (Andrea and Margaret) and listen to this, Cleobury Mortimer (Roger); now there’s a posh address if ever I heard one!

The talk was going well, people losing their initial inhibitions and asking questions; although one or two less well clad people looked as though the initial stages of hypothermia were beginning to encroach.

If only the rain would let up for a while, I could cut the talk a bit short and let them loose on the field for a bit of one on one tuition.

We got a slight lull, in the weather. “Anymore questions, No? Right we’ll grab a bite to eat and sashay* down to the field.” *(sashay. Another word for canoeing).

Nobody, but nobody backed out. There I was leading them through the farmyard to the field, feeling like the Pied Piper of Atlantis. Frank was the first casualty, (flat batteries) followed by Edwin (flat batteries, “you saw me put them in”).

And then it really opened up. What went on before was nothing; it couldn’t have been any worse if you were standing under a power shower. All those people crying out for rain in the previous weeks, well we got it all, in spades!! If you are looking around for pictures, forget it; I didn’t have an underwater camera.

Those people deserved the coveted medal; MBCD, mettlin’ beyond the call of duty.

The clay was sticking to their boots, giving everyone size 19 feet and then groping in the squelchy mud for a bit of silver paper. ’Scuse the pun, but this crowd had real stickability!

I managed to get around seeing everyone and we finally off the field about half an hour before time and retired back to the barn. In spite of everything, people were chatting and laughing, it was as if detecting in such atrocious conditions had somehow created a bond amongst us. There is no way that you would have gone out detecting on a day like that, not even for a hoard of Celtic, but it was the sense of achievement, of actually having “gone out there and done it”.

My hat comes off for each and every one of you. (You ain’t going to “ferget” that day out with the Norfolk Wolf in a hurry!)

Most of you there might not have realised who the big guy with the beard was, the very quiet and unassuming one; well, none of this could have happened without him. His name is Howard of Treasureland ltd. It was his land and his time and effort; he really is a true gentleman of the hobby. He sponsored and supported both of the Leicester talks and he rightly deserves your support; give his shop a visit and also his website www.detectorland.co.uk

Now then, what can Chippenham sling at us on Sunday? I reckon I should be about dry by then! John.

6th May, the Leicester training Day.

This venue had me more worried than the previous ones that I have done, only because I would be driving there on the day. A mere 90 miles or so, where’s the problem? Driving is not the problem, it’s getting my back off the bed in the morning at some ungodly hour and anything before nine is that ungodly it’s positively devilish!

I can’t get up; honestly, I go to bed early and worry about getting up so much that I can’t go to sleep. I started trying to acclimatise myself during the week, setting the alarm for 8a.m (okay), then 7a.m. (not okay, I hadn’t set the alarm correctly and didn’t wake till 9.30a.m.) and this was on the Saturday. Crikey, if that happens tomorrow, I’ll be so far up that creek without a paddle with everyone waiting for me to turn up, there just ain’t going to be an excuse plausible enough!

So Saturday started off on the wrong foot, could it get worse? You bet, I couldn’t find my cordless headphones anywhere when I went to charge them up. That evening was spent checking the list of those who were coming and those who had paid in advance (not the best of ways to make friends, by trying to charge them twice, is it?) Made certain everything was ready to go, alarm set for 6a.m. (is there really such a time?) and in bed at 11pm. I’m pretty sure when I last looked at the clock before finally going to sleep it said 2.15am!

I awoke with a start and immediately looked at the clock; it read 5.05 a.m. I was absolutely knackered, but I was too scared to close my eyes again; so lay there until the 6a.m. double-alarm belted out (why should my neighbours sleep if I’m not!)

Splashed my face and made a flask, bundled the necessaries in the motor and sat and had a cup of tea. One more splash over to try to join the land of the living and then on the road. One thing about being that dopey in the morning, you don’t drive fast; so miss all the speed cameras attentions.

Would you believe it, I was too early? Just me and this herd of crapping cows in a barn, crapping being the operative word, I reckon that that was there one and only party trick and boy were they trying to perfect it. The smell was, well crappy, it put me right off my coffee and smokes.

People started to arrive, the first being Andy, only another Norfolk boy weren’t he? Moved across country and working in that area, first plus point of the day! It was about this time that I realised that I had left the box of my DVD’s by my front door. I had put them there before I went to bed so that I would see them on the way out. It was then I realised my headphones were also in the same box!

Ever heard the expression, “thick in the arm, thick in the head”? Well, it also applies to skinny buggers like me!

One great thing about these talks is that they have taught me there are a helluva lot of real good people about. At the beginning of a talk, everyone is strangers and tend to be a bit reserved. It doesn’t take too long to stick a smile on their faces and come the end of the day; to me they’re like mates. You know what I mean, sort of; “Yep, he’s a good old boy; I can get on alright with him/her, they’re good to be around.”

So far, a lot of people who said they were coming haven’t turned up; so money wise it hasn’t been that successful. However, I’ve never ever worried about that side of things, as no matter what happens, you still get by. The people that I’ve met have more than made up for it; they have all given me something a lot more valuable in my eyes.

I mentioned Andy a bit earlier, being an’ ol’ Norfolk boy. Well, he’s just e-mailed me this poem he had and it’s that good I’m a stickin’ it up here. (I hope he doesn’t mind.)

NORFOLK
GOD DREW A MAP OF ENGLAND,
AND PLANTED HILL AND WOOD,
HE LOOKED ON STREAM AND HEADLAND
AND SAW THAT IT WAS GOOD.

PUSHED FAR INTO A CORNER,
HE LEFT A FAIR DOMAIN
HEATH, DOWN, FEN AND PLOUGHLAND,
RICH PASTURAGE AND GRAIN.

IT’S ON THE ROAD TO NO WHERE,
TRAVELLERS PASS IT BY,
NO-BODY COMES TO NORFOLK
WITHOUT A REASON WHY.

NO-BODY SINGS OF NORFOLK,
THOUGH MANY BARDS THERE BE
TO HONOUR GLORIOUS DEVON,
OR SUSSEX BY THE SEA.

WHEN GOD MADE NORFOLK COUNTY,
HE SAID THEY LOVE HER WELL,
WHO PATIENT IN THEIR WOOING,
SURRENDERED TO HER SPELL.

SLOWLY SHE CHARMS, HOW SLOWLY,
BUT ONCE THE SPELL IS CAST,
BY NORFOLK ON HER LOVERS,
SHE HOLDS THEM TO THE LAST.

NORFOLK A STATLEY LADY,
SHE’LL KEEP ALOOF FOR YEARS,
“FURRINERS” SHE DESPISES-
SHE’S SCORNFUL OF THEIR CHEERS.

BUT THEY’LL NOT FIND HER FICKLE,
WHO ONCE HER TRUE LOVE WIN.
FROM BRANCASTER TO THETFORD,
FROM CAISTER TO KINGS LYNN.

WE’RE SLOW OF SPEECH IN NORFOLK,
PERHAPS A THOUGHT TOO SLOW-
AND ONLY WHEN WE’RE CORNERED
WE’LL ANSWER YES OR NO.

OUR FATHERS TAUGHT US CAUTION,
THEY LEARNED WITH TOIL AND PAIN
THAT EVERY ‘SPICIOUS’ STRANGER
MIGHT BE A ROVING DANE.

THE STURDY NORFOLK YEOMAN
TO GUARD THEIR RIGHT ARE SET,
AS WELL BE-FITS THE CHILDREN
OF THE MEN WHO FOLLOWED KETT.

BUT NORFOLK MEN ARE LOYAL,
WITHOUT DECEIT OR SHAME-
ASK, IF YOU THINK IT DOUBTFUL
THE SQUIRE OF SANDRINGHAM.

DEVON MAY BOAST HER SAILORS,
BUT NORFOLK HOLD HER CLAIM
TO LEAD ALL ENGLANDS COUNTIES
BY RIGHT OF NELSON’S NAME-

AND MARK IN FRANCE AND FLANDERS,
AND FAR BEYOND THE WAVES,
THE THOUSAND WOODEN CROSSES
GUARDING OUR NORFOLK GRAVES.

WHEN GOD MADE NORFOLK COUNTY,
HE SHOWED HIS PERFECT ART,
AND IN HER PROUD FAIR BODY
HE HID A GOLDEN HEART.

SO COME AND LIVE IN NORFOLK,
BIDE ‘TIL THE SPELL IS CAST,
THEN ONCE YOU’VE LARN’T TO LOVE HER,
YOU’LL LOVE HER TO THE LAST.

Thanks Andy. You ain’t going to paint it any better than that.

A hammered silver goes to the Hat-man and his Adventis

Here’s Andy with a king William love-token and button.

My very first hammered silver, YEEEHAH!! Which was then followed by a whole crotal bell.

This was the best day so far for finds, I wonder what next week brings?