The Great Pyramid of Norfolk.

Alright?

Welcome to the 158 of you who have subscribed since last Sunday. There’s enough of us now that if we all crammed into a pub, it’d be incredibly clammy.

With that visceral image in mind, let’s talk about Norfolk’s biggest pyramid.

What is it?

Go to Blickling Hall and you’ll find that the house hogs all the attention. Selfish, really.

But about 1 mile away, wedged in the middle of the surrounding woodland, is the 14-metre high Blickling Mausoleum - or The Great Pyramid of Norfolk, as it shall be referred to henceforth. Arguably, it’s more intriguing than the hall itself.

Mausoleum = A fancy place to house the dead.

A Brief History of the Great Pyramid of Norfolk

The pyramid was commissioned in 1793 by Lady Caroline Suffield. She built it for her deceased Dad, John Hobart, 2nd Earl of Buckinghamshire.

Finished in 1796, it houses the remains of three people in raised, marble sarcophagi:

• John Hobart

• John’s first wife, Mary Anne

• John’s second wife, Caroline

In what I can only assume is a rather awkward post-death arrangement, the three continue to share the cramped abode to this day.

Three Facts About the Blicking Mausoleum

Use these to bore the person you’re with next time you visit.

1) It’s built with 190,000 blocks of Portland stone (that’s the stuff they used to build Buckingham Palace). The pyramid would’ve been white when it was first built. The more emo aesthetic it currently sports is a result of the weather.

2) The architect, Joseph Bonomi the Elder (not to be confused with his more famous son, Joseph Bonomi the Younger), was born in Rome, and used the city’s Pyramid of Cestius as inspo for The Great Pyramid of Norfolk.

3) The mausoleum would’ve cost about £200,000 in today's money. Apparently, Caroline Suffield raised the money by selling her jewelry. Presumably in Looses.

You can visit the Great Pyramid of Norfolk whenever you want, but to pre-empt any disappointment, you can’t actually go in the thing.

I’ll leave you with this rather pleasant description of it by Edmund Bartell in 1806, found in his seminal Guide to Cromer:

“Its situation is very happily chosen in the midst of a large and venerable wood, whose solitude appears only to be broken by the prying curiosity of the stranger, or the footsteps of the nimble deer.”

Whilst we didn’t see any nimble deers, we might’ve seen a few old dears pottering about, which was arguably just as good.

___

If you’ve enjoyed this newsletter, and you know someone in Norwich who might also enjoy it, please consider telling them about it.

I’ll be back next Sunday to tell you about the gory, tragic and creepy history of one of Norwich’s most modern and refurbished pubs.

Ta ra for now,

Secret Norwich.

PS: Know a secret about Norwich? Reply and tell me about it.