The idea to go to Ipswich was spontaneous: after all these months of feeling dozy and deadened, with one truly blissful break at Cromer and a few intermittent visits in between, to London and nearby Audley End, we wanted to refresh our routines and that’s how we chose the main Suffolk city.
Why Ipswich? Whilst planning (our actual schedule was made quickly, with minimal efforts), we mainly thought of two things: the straightforward journey, with no changing trains, and an opportunity to reach as many potentially interesting locations as possible. Since all museums are closed on Mondays, we took into account that our walks might be 1) outdoors (so, good weather was highly desirable), 2) still intense and full of historic references.
So, our main aims were:
• St. Lawrence Church (partly, because of the name, lol, but if seriously, we wanted to have a look inside and to see the oldest circle of five bells in the whole world);
• the Waterfront, because we love boats and both have a soft spot for a shabbier version of luxurious harbours (don’t get me wrong: Antibes is strikingly gorgeous, but we both felt quite out of place there, which never happened anywhere by the sea in Britain or, say, in other Northern spots, like Sweden’s Gothenburg, which we both fell in love with);
• the Tudor streets, with their whimsical and grotesque carvings (Cambridge doesn’t have them, sadly);
• the Great White Horse Hotel, where a local Suffolk company filmed The Haunted Hotel two years ago (it’s still streaming on Amazon Prime, so if you want to give it a try, you’re welcome: albeit not too scary, it subtly possesses all the proper elements of a true horror movie);
• Christchurch Mansion (just to visit the park, because the gallery is closed on Mondays).
Our expectations turned out to be mixed.
On one hand, Ipswich is indeed a good place if you really want to have a genuine East Anglian experience: the number of churches, covered in flint and snarky gargoyles, old (15th century and the like) and newish (Victorian/Edwardian), is immense. Frankly, we were quite puzzled by their profusion, because we certainly outdid our plan of just going to St Lawrence. Sadly, St Lawrence itself, although absolutely gorgeous inside (the authentic mediaeval ceiling and the bells confirmed it; NB: you can listen to the bells on Wednesdays only) was converted into a community centre a while ago, and I find this gradual yet inevitable deconsecrating of churches all over the country off-putting (I know, they need money to keep the buildings going, and I am not the best Christian myself anyway, but still). Ipswich’s Elizabethan alleys and culs de sac are fabulous and visibly well tended: we had a chance to look at all the carvings from all possible angles and thoroughly enjoyed it.
But the poverty, though. I’ve been in Suffolk before (Bury St Edmunds), and it didn’t give me that unmistakable feeling of decline and struggle that is pretty much everywhere on the Ipswich streets: seeing rough sleepers curled in a fetal position on the benches on the high street is really heart-wrenching. You can go around any church or any ancient house with opulent decoration and find yourself in the middle of a dreary landscape with unfinished building constructions, decay and massive piles of rubbish. That contrast is striking and sad, especially because the weather during the first part of our trip was quite bleak (it got better at the end). Also, the Great White Horse Hotel was closed: I guess, it’s pandemics’ fault, but who knows…
The horse is the white of the eyes, and dark within. ©
But people were lovely, kind, and helpful: an old lady spotted us looking at the board with a map (we were trying to find the quickest route to the Waterfront) and gave us precise directions in an old-fashioned way, which was wonderful.
Overall, I liked Ipswich, but next time I’d try to plan my journey there more carefully and in the middle of a really sunny season.
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