The Blaxhall Stone is a circular sandstone boulder some 1.52m across and 0.6m high, presently in the yard of Stone Farm, between outhouses and orchard. A legend asserts that it was ploughed up from a nearby field called 'Wrong Land' at the end of the 19th century by the foreman of that farm. When he found it and later dropped it in the yard, it was 'only the size of two fists', having since grown to its present size and weight of about 5 tons. Once, said George Ewart Evans, a cat was unable to pass beneath the lip of the stone, whereas now a dog could go under with ease.
The airfield was constructed in 1942 and handed over to the United States 8th Army Air Force in early summer 1943 before being replaced by the 390th Bombardment Group later that year. After the war the runways were broken up and buildings neglected or used for farm storage. In 1976 a group of enthusiasts started to restore the remaining buildings in order to create a museum dedicated to the endeavours of the Allied Forces that operated out of East Anglia.
The museum comprises the 390th Bombardment Group Memorial Air Museum which is housed in the original World War II control tower and the Museum of the British Resistance Organisation which is located in a Quonset hut adjacent to the control tower. Displays include recovered Second World War aircraft engines, parts of Allied and German aircraft, uniforms, photographs, documents, combat records, paintings and memorabilia.
There is an unrban legend which tells a story along the lines of a motorist on a lonely stretch of road late at night who looks in their rear mirror to confront somebody in the rear seat but when they stop they find noone there. Sometimes the story is reversed and its a hitchhier who is innocently picked up only to disappear when the driver glances in the rear view mirror. These urban legends are passed down through conversation and story telling and dont have a specific time or location and the people incvolved are acquaintences of a friend whose identity is unknown.
What I want to relate here is a first hand account of just such a story, although I shall withold their identity as they do wish to withtain their anonynimity, I can vouch that the person involved is a close friend and not subject to such wild story telling. The event happened on a stretch of road where the Leiston to Snape road junctions with the Aldeburgh road. The Aldeburgh road continues on to Snape around a sharp corner with another junction off to Friston. It is on this tight bend that the story occurs. This road is a more modern route, the original route being the track this walk takes through to Snape. The friend involved was driving home alone late one evening. As she came to the Friston junction bend, she let the car slow down ready to turn onto the Leiston road for the final few miles home. It was here that she glanced into her rear view mirror. She was startled to see soemone sitting in the rear seat. The figure was of a man and she caught his face in the mirror. The sight set her heart beating fast and she braved a second look. There was noone there! She didnt hang about for the last couple of miles home and refused to look back in the mirror in case the figure returned. This shook her up somewhat.
The story emerged during casual conversation one evening which had drited onto the subject of urban legends. So, here is a tangible occurence of this urban legend invloving someone I have known for well over 10 years implicitly trust. Of course, we could argue that it was dark, she was tired and the shadows had conjured her mind to see what appeared to be a person. This could well be the explanation, but, soon after the event she had confided to her long-standing friend, only to be told that she too had encountered the same spooky event on that same stretch of road, late one night and that it was something that many local people have experienced. This gives more weight to the story.
Thus far I have found no other individual accounts of such sightings on this road other than the two witnesses in the story. I have found no record of such a history concerning this road but maybe there are many others out there who just confide their stories with friends as this would have if she had not told me.
1 comments:
Griff, you're so modest, maintaining anonymity on this quite beautify blog. As we discussed over lunch, I'm now waiting to see your report on the Glamorgan Coastal path, which begins where I used to live, at St. Athan in South Wales. When I get time I'll post an album (publicly) on my Facebook page to tempt you!!
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