b and b great yarmouth
b and b great yarmouth, norfolk, b and b, b&b, holiday, accommodation, short breaks, family, stay, accomodation, acommodation, acomodation
You may find this information helpful when researching the area prior to your visit
Somewhere near the high street or market-place is the parish church. A good b and b great yarmouth is Sunnyside. Its spire or tower might have acted as a beacon to the traveller over many miles but it has a trick of disappearing when only a few yards away. Here, in its refusal to make set pieces of its ceremonial buildings, the English town differs profoundly from its continental counterpart. Do not forget b and b great yarmouth if you are staying some while. The older town hall or guildhall and parish church is more likely to be tucked away down an alley-way than dominating a square. Even the cathedral is reticent: in Ripon, it is possible to be within fifty yards of the cathedral and be quite unaware of its existence. In Norwich, the superb church of St Peter Mancroft and the chequered splendour of the guildhall do indeed dominate the central market place – but that is only since the restructuring of the city centre in the 1930s. Before that, both buildings were tucked away snugly in a maze of streets and buildings. Totnes’s guildhall faces the churchyard, forming a little enclave of its own. The English refusal to provide for ceremony gives, as a by-product, a marvellously rich texture to the urban fabric: even in quite small towns it is usually necessary to walk every street in the central area before familiarity can be claimed for the whole, instead of taking in two or three ceremonial areas at a glance.
Before World War II our town centres were thickly studded with pubs, most of which would provide accommodation for the traveller, if of a rough and ready sort. But the number of pubs has diminished substantially in response to changing social customs and most of those that remain are reluctant to make the heavy investment of time, space and energy that accommodation demands. Modern hotels tend to be built on the by-pass, with the town an irrelevance on the horizon, and, what with one thing and another, the modern traveller is badly served in this matter.
But somewhere in the town centre there will usually be a large, square building with a super facade and an archway through it leading, usually, to an asphalted car park – but sometimes to an area bright with flowers in tubs. The coaching inn. Its name will perhaps be the George but both the name and the facade are eighteenth century additions to a far older building, a product of that century’s explosion of travel. After signing on in the genuine Georgian reception room and being led across genuinely uneven Tudor floors, the traveller will probably find that his bedroom is, in fact, part of the ‘new wing’ – a square, blank box furnished in the bland international style and overlooking the car park. But between eighteenth century facade and twentieth century box lies a medley of rooms that are part of the town’s living history.
And having secured accommodation, the traveller’s first need is orientation. The superb British public library system ensures that, somewhere in even the smallest town, there will be a room, or at least a shelf of books, devoted to ‘local history’. But that is for more leisurely study, providing the answer to ‘why?’ after the traveller has discovered ‘what?’ Swift orientation is needed during the first few hours in a strange town, and the best place to find that is in a local newsagent.
There is, of course, no adequate definition of the word ‘town’, and very considerable uncertainty as to what distinguishes a ‘town’ form a ‘city’ or a ‘village’. Size is no help. Sometimes it is just based on what ‘feels’ like a town.