Thorpeness through the ages

The House in the Clouds

It’s been voted the weirdest village in England and one of the 100 worst places to live, but to me it will always be a place to escape to, where childhood and imagination can run free. Originally created as a private fantasy holiday town by a rich railway designer, Thorpeness does have an oddly artificial aesthetic with its mock Tudor houses, man-made lake with Peter Pan theme and the famed House in the Clouds. And despite being home to at least 400 permanent residents, it can’t escape that slightly depressing seasonal feel that many British seaside towns exude. That said, the older I get the more I come to enjoy and appreciate Thorpeness in its out of season stupor. But maybe that’s just because I go there now to escape the endless bustle of London with the distinct intention of not seeing a soul. Apart from the fish and chip shop staff of course…


Childhood summers spent in Thorpeness were a thing of storybooks though. In fact I’m pretty sure I modelled a lot of activities on my favourite books. Hours spent messing around in boats on the Meare (Swallows and Amazons style), jumping from island to island to see how far we could jump before we got dunked in the muddy waters (Gladiators? Ok, maybe TV had an influence too), taking over entire islands to govern ourselves and attack invaders with water balloons (a less dystopian take on Lord of the Flies perhaps?). Then there was the birth of The Fabulous Four. With “the summer house” as a clubhouse (and it was only years later that I realised a garden shed with windows and space for one armchair does not warrant the label of “summer house”), a secret code for entry and a penchant for gambling (with stones from the beach – these were innocent times after all) we gave The Famous Five a run for their money. Except of course the biggest mystery we ever stumbled upon was an abandoned barn with piles of discarded bodies (or upon closer inspection; mannequins) inside.

100 years of fun have been had on Thorpeness Meare

Another game for the Gladiators fans among us (and this one was actually invented by our parents can you believe!) was the Boardwalk Gauntlet. One of our favourite walks weaved through a reedy marshland with some rickety boards a foot wide underfoot to keep you above the bog. Walking this route was far too mundane for The Fabulous Four of course. Cycling was the real challenge. And the penalty for losing balance and sliding off the boards? A nice faceful of stinging nettles or, if you’re lucky, just some brambles. No wonder our parents had to bribe us with ice cream every time they wanted us to join them on a dogwalk!

Imaginative games aside, Thorpeness is the perfect summer haven for parents and children alike. Parents can leave their children free to roam the village safe in the knowledge no harm will come of them, and for the kids there are unending sources of entertainment. From tennis tournaments, quizzes and bingo organised by the Yellow shirted reps at the country club to mud fights on the Meare, swimming in the sea and making dens in trees. Not to mention Thorpeness Regatta, when competition is fierce to get your name on the board in the boathouse for skilful rowing, sailing, canoeing or kayaking.

If Thorpeness is a good place for children, it’s a great place for teenagers. During the summer months hundreds of young people migrate to the east coast for the holidays. Some of my fondest (but also maybe bleariest) memories involve sitting on the sea wall facing The Cross Keys pub in the neighbouring town of Aldeburgh, along with 30 other 14-17 year olds. Unable to actually enter the pub we made do with sitting outside it, feeling grown up enough to be out at night with the opposite sex and within spitting distance of the alcohol within. It became a rite of passage to throw up on Aldeburgh beach after drinking too much during your first foray into Peach Archers or Malibu. Cycling back to Thorpeness after said Malibu was the teenage version of the Boardwalk Gauntlet, only this time it involved pitch darkness, a crumbling coastal path and 5 other tipsy teenagers. The scars tell a thousand tales.

Beautiful skies along the coastal path from Aldeburgh to Thorpeness

Post University and irresponsible drinking, Thorpeness has taken on a different role in my life. No longer graced with long summer holidays and socially maxed out from life in London I take off to Thorpeness for the odd weekend of peace and quiet. The order of play goes something like this: tennis followed by a pint of Aspall’s at The Dolphin, a brisk walk along the shingly beach, greasy fish and chips on the sea wall (good at any age mind you), a game of boules at the pub, perhaps. On my most recent trip I even found myself playing bridge with my parents late into the night, which I’m not sure I should be admitting so freely. I fear I have slipped too far.

Thorpeness is undeniably a strange place as any visitor would tell you. But it is also a charming place that seems to have succeeded in keeping time and modernity at bay. It has maintained its quintessential Englishness despite at times seeming twee, and I hope it will continue. I like to think my children will also one day spend their summers inventing games in trees, messing around in boats and swimming in the sea without relying on playstations or iPads to entertain.