The king and the polar bear.

Alright?

This week, I learned about NARS. The Norfolk Accident Rescue Service.

NARS is a voluntary team of doctors, nurses, paramedics and first responders who attend 999 calls. Get this - they help over 2,000 patients a year. How mad is that? If you need emergency services in Norfolk, there’s a decent chance NARS will get to you first.

Here’s the thing though: They’re relatively unheard of. Fortunately for me, I’ve never needed emergency medical treatment, but I’m still pretty confident that, were I to ever find myself in that situation, I’d probably be too preoccupied to notice the logo on the t-shirt of the person helping me.

This is NARS’s biggest challenge. Sure, they might save someone’s life, but once that patient is handed over to the NHS, their job is done. They’re our silent knights: like batman, or that rubbish Christmas song.

Anyway, they’re also one of our county’s biggest secrets, but unlike the other secrets I share in this newsletter, I don’t want them to be a secret for long. They’re hosting a Christmas raffle, which could be quite a fun way to contribute to this great service:

Norwich’s Founding Father (Apparently)

You’ve heard of the other great mythological characters of Britain (Robin Hood, King Arthur, the moustachioed bloke on a tin of Pringles), but did you know Norwich has one of its own?

This week we’re going to examine the myth of King Gargunt - a name that doesn’t roll off the tongue as much as it bubbles out of the throat.

It’s not terribly clear when King Gargunt was knocking about, but he was probably an offshoot or retelling of the legendary King of the Britons Gurguit Barbtruc (invented by Geoffrey of Monmouth). This means we’re looking at 300-400BC.

Wait, that’s not a puppy.

The story goes that King Gargunt visited the patch of land that is now Norwich and was so fond of it that he decided to settle here for good. It must’ve been The Playhouse that won him over.

He was said to have built the castle mound, which is pretty bold claim to be honest, since it’s well documented that the castle mound was actually built by the Normans.

King Gargunt used Norwich as a base and travelled the world making a name for himself in various battles. One such battle was overseas in the frozen north. Allied with a local ruler, he acted with such bravery and skill that he was gifted a puppy.

However, when King Gargunt returned to Norwich, the puppy started to grow at an alarming rate. It quickly became larger than any dog the locals had ever seen and, before long, it was even bigger than a fully grown man.

You see, it wasn’t actually a puppy at all. It was a polar bear. Classic mix-up.

Anyway, despite what you’ve heard about Jimmy’s Farm, back in those days, polar bears didn’t take well to the Norfolk air. The bear - known to an apparently still confused Gargunt as his “white hound” - died after a few years.

A sleeping giant.

As is the nature of life (even mythological life, in this case) King Gargunt also died eventually. If you believe the stories, he and his white hound are buried beneath the castle mound.

But they’re not alone.

Gargunt is buried with his treasures and in a full set of armour, complete with a sword.

Far being ceremonial regalia, the theory is that the sleeping king will rise up to defend Britain when it needs it most (financial crashes, Brexit and pandemics apparently weren’t enough to rouse him from his slumber, but we can remain confident that he’ll rear his head if The Traitors ever gets cancelled).

Oh, and he also gets out of bed for royalty. When Queen Elizabeth I visited Norwich at the end of the 16th century, he deigned to wake himself up, stand in the crowd and wait to escort the Queen through the city.

But as he stood, brolly out, raincoat on, waiting excitedly for his moment, the royal procession was rained off. Gutted.

Bear feet.

Believe it or not, Gargunt’s polar bear isn’t Norwich’s only bear story.

On Valentine’s Day 1976, the city of Norwich received a strange gift: the deep-frozen body of a European brown bear (weighing twice as much as a person, which must’ve cost a fortune in postage). I like to think it came with a card signed ‘?’.

The bear was actually a gift from a British zoo (a bit weird, guys).

For some reason, we decided to bury it near the castle. Which means, in theory, there might actually be two bears buried within walking distance of Castle Meadow. And those are just the ones we know about - who knows how many other bears reside beneath our feet?

It’s with that thought that I’ll leave you. I’m off to enjoy the small amount of weekend that’s left. Hope you’re able to do the same.

See you next week,

Secret Norwich