The Saxons named the village we know as Almer (Aelmere - the eel lake), but this water in which men have caught eels since Paleozoic days is now almost insignificant.

When I called, the church of St. Mary was locked and in these days of vandalism we know the reason for that. It stands near a magnificent old farmhouse and in its churchyard there is the stump of a preaching cross 1400 years old.

Two novelties make Almer memorable to the visitor. A seven-mile long brick wall, about 8 feet high, links the- noble arched entrances to Charborough Park and at the western end of the village, standing back from the main road, is the World’s End Inn.

When I first called at this thatched hostelry many years ago, it lived up to its name. A bleak alehouse where you were only welcome if the landlord liked you. Today it is a much bigger building with well lit cozy lounges and a stable bar serving delicious food. It is the sort of end of the world we would all like to come to.

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