I am still reeling with delight at the soaring majesty of Norfolk.

What the Londoner sees in his mind's eye is that cluster of towers and pinnacles seen from Pentonville Hill and outlined against a foggy sunset, and the great arc of Barlow's train shed gaping to devour incoming engines, and the sudden burst of exuberant Gothic of the hotel seen from gloomy Judd Street.

And I think it was the outline of that church tower at Belaugh against the sky which gave me a passion for churches so that every church I've past since I've wanted to stop and look in.

Hymn tunes are the nearest we've got to English folk music.

I am still reeling with delight at the soaring majesty of Norfolk.

Imprisoned in a cage of sound, even the trivial seems profound

History must not be written with bias, and both sides must be given, even if there is only one side.