Tag: people. wisbech born

Poetry Square

Poetry Square

Many of our contributed poems have had a square produced for them – a quote from the poem to help us share more easily on social media but also so we can display them in the game. This one is at the start of the 

The Clarkson Memorial

The Clarkson Memorial

From Wikipedia: The Clarkson Memorial commemorates Thomas Clarkson (1760 – 1846), a central figure in the campaign against the slave trade in the British empire, and a former native of Wisbech. It dates from 1880 – 1881 and is a Grade II* listed building.[1] The 

Town Bridge

Town Bridge

Crossing the river where it has been crossed for centuries, this bridge leads from the High Street, Nene Parade, South Brink and Bridge Street across to North Brink and the Old Market. The main large building in front (with dark curved arches on the lower level) is No 1 North Brink, the Corn Exchange, with the Town Council Chamber above. The painting is by Clive Bilcliff and you can find it here

Where is Freedom Born – Pete Cox

Where is Freedom Born – Pete Cox

Is freedom born in a fire burning a palace?

Brandon Mattless

Brandon Mattless

Local Illustrator/Designer, Brandon has produced work that has been sold across the UK including: Waitrose, ASDA, Clintons & UK Greetings He works with the Wisbech and Fenland Museum on ideas to support young artists. He has kindly sent us some of his pieces of Wisbech, 

St Peter’s and Castle Lodge Area – Anita Bowles

St Peter’s and Castle Lodge Area – Anita Bowles

“After lockdown I saw the world from new angles and with a new phone in hand I took some photos with wide lens of the St. Peter’s church. I’ve grown up in Elm and many generations before me. I’ve always loved taking photography and capturing moments of time.”

Find Anita on Facebook.

Another Town – C J Mawganson

Another Town – C J Mawganson

What can be done

Is there ever a way

Mike Stallard

Mike Stallard

  Mike tells us: “The building is the centre of a tiny village in Hungary – I forget the name – which I did for my next door neighbour in return for a couple of jars of delicious pickles. It was her hometown. She moved 

Fen Blow – C J Mawganson

Fen Blow – C J Mawganson


Feel the Fen Blow bey,

It rattles the bones

Through graves long forgotten,

In church yards of stone

Lazy old Easterly

Howls like a dog,

Then covers the dykes

In a blanket of fog

Reddens the hands

Travelled from foreign parts

Who harvest the land,

Picking artichoke hearts.

Gets up the tails

Of the long-legged hares,

That run for their lives

From the Gamekeeper’s glares

Swirls round the bench

And kisses the face

Of dear Molly Watkins,

At peace in her place

Brucks up the fruit trays

Stacked high the markets.

Makes pots goo a gutzer,

Snaps flowers in baskets

Snatches the bread

From the men eating dockey

Whilst sat on memorials,

Saddened with poppies

The sky’s blue as Woad dye

So stretch out your hand

And feel the Fen Blow, bey

For this is Fen Land