a. Of persons: having the faculty of making happy and unexpected discoveries by accident.
b. (The more usual sense.) Applied to discoveries, meetings, etc., of this kind.
Malcolm has, as you will see, already been at Simpson and Weiner’s wonderful device.
That was prompted by somehow calling up wikipedia’s front page and getting this:
Wikipedia claims 3,953,343 articles in English — though by the time you hit on this blog-post, the number will have varied.
This set Malcolm musing on the chances of a single article out of that number turning up, by chance, and relating to something just a few miles down the road from Wells (see previous posts here). And also on something so … well … irrelevant.
Go to the site of this “Blakeney Chapel” (which was in Cley, anyway), and you’ll find … nothing. It’s gone. Lost and gone forever.
Now don’t come over all sentimental and maudlin. Just because something may be old does not make it interesting.
Blakeney Chapel was a spot on a map, a place to aim your walk towards, to pass by, and then to look for something more worthwhile and rewarding.
Whatever the place ever was, there is absolutely no evidence it was a chapel.
That shouldn’t worry any Norfolkman, who can invent and re-invent history at will. After all, Malcolm recalls that, half a century or so back, he was once assured that Warham Camp (which is of some interest) was where Oliver Cromwell fought and beat Julius Caesar.
Were that the case, it would make this ring-fort very interesting indeed.