There’s 390 souls in Fenland’s Pymoor (meaning : “flies over bog”), and last week they (nearly) all took umbrage at me.
That post (here) from early 2018 wasn’t even that rude about a small Fenland village, it was just a reflection on a long publess walk, but 4 years after posting it 202 villagers shared it on Facebook and had a collective meltdown. I didn’t even realise Facebook could go as far as the Fens.
“You didn’t even get to the Toll House !” said one.
Now, if there’s one thing I detest it’s a disappointed readership, so last Thursday on my weekly visit home I took Dad out to take a second look at Pymoor. Here’s Dad, looking.
Of course he’s not my security detail ! How could you think such a thing.
Anyway, we didn’t see anyone, bar the tourists travelling from Manea to Ely waving to warn us of the man with the pitchfork behind us.
Let’s be fair, Pymoor gives good Big Skies, if that’s your bag.
Just up the road is the Welney Washes, a magnet for twitchers.
But I couldn’t find the Toll House, and this was the most interesting building on the famous B1411. I think it houses the dredging equipment.
After that I took him on a tour of places he played football for Waterbeach (a 5ft8 centre forward) and delivered potatoes. In contrast I’d been to all of these pubs;
None of them were open, of course, so we had to skip plans for coffee and cake. Probably just as well.