The deadly shipwreck in Norfolk.

Alright?

Firstly, a big hello to my Grandma, who subscribed to this newsletter despite living in Lincolnshire. She asked me for a shoutout, so here it is (I’ve got my next birthday present to think about, after all).

Hello to everyone who isn’t my Grandma too (which I’m pretty confident is most of you).

Today’s newsletter is a little closer to her neck of the woods than previous instalments. We’re headed to the North Norfolk coast to look at a fascinating, haunting and, at times, deadly heirloom of World War 2: the SS Vina.

Before that, Norwich Pub Tours - the tour company I used to run - is officially back. If you fancy joining our first public tour or organising a private one, the new website lets you do both of those things. Click the button below to have a nose (oh, and if you spot an error, please let me know. I’m confident there are loads).

What is the SS Vina?

Brancaster, a coastal village in North Norfolk, is home to a curious thing. A lot of the time, you can’t actually see it.

But at low tide, three chunks of metal stick their heads above the watery parepet.

Built in 1894, the SS Vina was once a cargo ship, but like many ships at the time, it was requisitioned by the Royal Navy during World War 2.

It was then given a job that, if I were a ship, I might’ve been a little insulted by. Rather than being gallantly sailed into battle, it was filled with concrete and explosives and parked in Great Yarmouth’s harbour.

The plan was simple: If the Nazis ever attempted to invade England via Great Yarmouth, the SS Vina could be detonated to block the passage. In a parallel universe, the SS Vina is the most famous naval success story in Britain’s history.

But as you already know, the Nazis didn’t attempt to invade England via Great Yarmouth. The SS Vina’s big moment never came.

Why is it stuck off the coast of Brancaster?

The geographically sharp amongst you will probably be wondering how it ended up marooned on a sandbar in North Norfolk. The answer is gale.

Nope, not Gail Porter from Corrie: A gale.

The RAF used it as target practice before their invasion of Normandy, and then it was towed to North Norfolk, where a strong wind caught it and deposited it conveniently within selfie-distance of the coast.

How come it’s in three pieces?

Someone bought it for scrap in 1957. I’m not sure who bought it or who sold it. Perhaps the Navy was the seller? Did they list it on Gumtree? There are plenty of questions for which I have no answers.

What I do know is that this buyer managed to cut it into three pieces, but was still unable to move it. He’s part of a long conga line of people and organisations that have tried - and failed - to move it.

The challenge? Navigating the deadly tide.

Don’t visit the SS Vina.

Take a picture of the SS Vina. Admire her from afar. But don’t be tempted to go up to her and introduce yourself.

If you do, you’ll be close enough to read this sign, which I reckon is definitely a contender for the scariest sign in Norfolk:

Unfortunately, the SS Vina has claimed more lives than she ever saved. Most recently, Raymond Mills from Milton Keynes was killed by the rapid tide whilst visiting the SS Vina in August last year.

Okay, I’m out. Remember, Norwich Pub Tours is open for business. Take a look if you’re that way inclined.

See you next Sunday,

Secret Norwich.