I didn't realise when I viewed the house that I'd been to West Raynham before. I had driven myself there in blizzard-like snow, from Staffordshire, in about 2007 or 2008, to see Most Haunted Live. I had met up with Smev and a couple of her friends to see it. When I realised this, the feeling of West Raynham being my natural home suddenly became bitter sweet. Smev would no longer talk to me, and I didn't know why; at the time when I dwelled upon this I was brought to tears. Plus, I began to wonder whether my natural affinity with the area was simply down to a subconscious recognition when I re-arrived there.
Who knows!?!
Letting go of the bitter sweet, I fell in love with West Raynham every day. I had never seen a hare before living there. I am not sure whether I had seen partridges before, but if I had they hadn't previously been on my doorstep.
Every time I drove into Fakenham I marveled at the wildlife. There were several types of deer around. I saw ermine, guinea fowl, and rather oddly I found an Indian Tiger Centipede snacking on a rabbit corpse. At least one barn owl lived in the delict building that was immediately opposite my house. I'd loved to have been able to see what else was in there.
As an old air base there were a lot of derelict buildings surrounding the campus. (I never knew whether to call it a campus, village, base, or what). In spring I walked up to the Airmen's Restaurant, because I wanted to photograph the beautiful cherry trees that were outside it.
At the time all the doors were open, so I didn't realise people weren't supposed to go inside. It was incredible. White tatty curtains billowing in the draft of broken windows. Skeletons of pigeons whom obviously hadn't found their way out. Old style butler basins, wooden fold down ironing boards, mirrors, toilets, and showers, all in place as if waiting to be used (after a good clean).
Teenagers or vagrants had obviously been upstairs, as there was graffiti and the remnants of camp fires. I was surprised that holding a camp fire indoors wouldn't have dire consequences, but there you go!
The views from upstairs were equally fascinating. There was a field of buildings that had probably been barracks, behind the restaurant. Paths leading from one building to the next, huge hay bales just dumped on them, and sheep with huge thick coats wandering in and out of the disused buildings.
Bug, one of my cats walked to the restaurant with me. I thought he would freak out and get lost in the building, but he seemed as intrigued as myself, if not more so. He mostly stayed by my side. I believe it was the first time he'd experienced an echo. He miaowed at me when we first entered the building, and stopped, startled when he heard a miaow come back to him. A couple of miaows later and he had it sussed.
West Raynham, being an old airbase, had no main roads. As such there was very little traffic for the cats to worry about. My house was an end terrace, at the far corner of the base, so it was more of less surrounded by fields. The cats loved being able to just leave the house and insinuate themselves into invisibility.
I used to whistle for them at meal times. They would appear from every direction. Sometimes a few other cats joined them. As autumn approached, and I was whistling for them in the dark, an owl started responding to me. It became quite regular. I felt quite guilty that I was misleading the poor chap on.
I used to like to walk around the campus to stretch my legs. At first it was usually only Bug that accompanied me. After a while several of my cats would follow me. And then, rather oddly, other cats joined in, too. Due to complicated feline politics though, the cats would follow me in a line, with a space of about 6 ft between each cat.
I started to wonder whether I might have hit on how the story of the Pied Piper came to be.
In West Raynham I learnt that I didn't need heating, the internet, or TV, to be happy. I re-established my absolute love of everything natural. And I began a completely new, different, chapter to my life.
Thank you West Raynham. Hopefully I'll find my way back to you.
No comments:
Post a Comment