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Hempstead |
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Village History |
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what3words location - ///unhappily.baking.tiny |
The Hare & Hounds is at the far end of Hempstead and is in fact almost in Baconsthorpe. Rumour had it that the parish boundary ran through the bar area but that is not the case, as the line runs just beyond the property's own boundary. The Hare & Hounds started off as a village beerhouse before becoming a licensed public house. It was first recorded in 1789, and was variously owned by the Marchioness of Lothian, the Marquis of Lothian, Major Gerald Southerland, B. & R. Stevenson and during its sad demise, Val Purkiss. |
The Hare & Hounds had a chequered career, shutting and opening again on more than one occasion. In the early 2000s the pub was a thriving and profitable business but after a change in ownership its popularity plummeted as clientele (for good reason) chose to go elsewhere. The pub finally closed in 2010. |
Stay of execution for Hare and Hounds pub in Baconsthorpe/Hempstead |
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North Norfolk District Council's (NNDC) development committee has voted to defer a change-of-use applicationby owner Val Purkiss for the Hare and Hounds, on Baconsthorpe Road, Hempstead. Planning Officers had recommended that the controversial application should be granted this time, after a previos rejection which was upheld on appeal, because a pub had become unviable. A report to councillors said the pub, which closed in 2010, had lost its sewerage system to neighbouring land after discovering it was illegal. A new one suitable for commercial premises would cost £140,000 to install and another £10,000 every 45 days to empty, according to a quote submitted by Mrs Purkiss. But councillors decided they wanted independent confirmation of the likely cost and have deferred their decision until officers have the new figures. Several also felt that the pub had not been marketed well and had therefore not attracted a buyer. Anthea Sweeney said the pub's closure was "absolutely tragic." She added: "Not many years ago it was absolutely heaving. Since the applicant bought the pub it's been run down so much." Richard Shepherd said the pub used to draw people from far afield. "We need that pub. It's the only one for blinking miles. It needs to be properly marketed and I don't think it has been," he added. John Perry-Warnes, who supported the closure recommendation, said the current owners were "really not pub people." Mrs Purkiss has previously stated that fewer than 20 locals a week used the pub. Alex Hurrell, Eastern Daily Press - 19th December 2013 |
Hare and Hounds memories
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Fred Ison was my grandfather and I remember spending several holidays there as a child in the 1950s. Fred met Major Southerland in a pub in Essex And they became friends. Major (I was always told this was his first name not his rank) Invited my grandfather To keep house for him along with his wife Dora At his farm Warren farm in Kelling. Apparently at the time he ate only raw eggs and needed a change of diet. At that time major , something of an entrepreneur, owned The Farm and Kelling Heath and latterly the Hare and hounds Which he assigned to my grandad to run for him. I have many happy memories of holidays on the farm, on the heath - in the first caravan ever installed - and in the pub. The major was a bit of an eccentric to say the least, he would keep and tame a fox and A parrot would keep him company behind the bar He would drive a jaguar Mk 2 and I remember him taking me for a hair raising drive across the heath in an open top - no windscreen Land Rover. Grandad was much older than Major But he looked after him well and found him a cottage in Little Barningham to end his days . Dora, My step grandmother lived on and ended her days in an old peoples home in Upper Sheringham. I was told There was a sad ending to the life of Major Southerland, who having disturbed a burglary at the pub was ever after suffering from post-traumatic stress which culminated in him shooting himself in the very pub I remember so well. I have fond memories of Peter Gunnet mentored by Major though I believe he too came to an unfortunate end. I hope this is of interest to you as part of my early life which left me a great fondness for this part of Norfolk which I return to whenever I can. David Coveney - 12th August 2023 |
I remember the Hobsons – Jim & Lesley, they sold to Phil Bishop who put Billy Carder in to run it. Probably the best days of the pub. Then came Ashley Brewster and his then wife, Brenda. They had a partner called Nigel Kern. He was called away briefly at the behest of Her Majesty but who returned and attempted an abortive eviction of Ashley & Brenda together with Nigel’s former friend and associate – a shadowy figure called Big Dave (money made in Timeshare and Double Glazing) who had taken up residence in the barn. During his time away, Nigel had made friends with a West Indian gentleman who, accompanied by a Range Rover full of bailiffs and Phil Bishop, posed as the Sheriff of Norfolk and banged on the door of the pub with a home typed Writ. Hearing the commotion, Big Dave peered out of the barn window and recognised the so-called High Sheriff as a former cell mate and phoned Ashley instructing him to call the police. This caused immediate alarm in our West Indian friend who immediately ran off up the Road towards Holt. I encountered him en-route and remarked to myself that encountering a large west Indian gentleman in a 3 piece woollen suit sprinting along a North Norfolk country lane was an unusual sight - for a Wednesday. Apparently,; the whole operation was being choreographed by Nigel on his mobile phone from the car park at the Three Pigs in Edgefield. Nigel eventually regained controlling interest in the pub because Ashley, a dyslexia sufferer had mis signed the partnership agreement. He continued to run the place, advertised as quaint country pub experience which unusually featured loud house music, a studded and pierced Brazilian barmaid with a bare midriff and musical evenings where the performers were paid in generous helpings of Peruvian marching powder. Phil Bishop, still not receiving rent, then sold it to Jonathan and his mother who vandalised the bar by cutting it in half, painted the walls pink and served enormous, inedible portions of indifferent food to packed houses of the old and greedy. Drinkers and locals were actively discouraged by waiting staff who barged into them whilst ferrying the inedible piles of shite to the gaping gullets in the dining room. My friend John who called in every weekday lunchtime for a pint of Guiness and to read his paper in his usual seat was asked to vacate his favourite spot for an ancient pair of these shabby old gannets and so never went back. The cellar was kept too cold for beer in order to preserve the mountains of food, and so the local trade inevitably dried up…. Much like the gravy. Then came a lady who’s ambition to run a charming country pub was realised by her illegitimate daughter’s father buying her off with the pub as a gift until after a few months she became bored and sold it to the last incumbents who were deliberately so obnoxious that the pub was eventually decommissioned (no doubt their original nefarious intention) and remained in a filthy and neglected state. A bloody shame and probably the Major’s curse. I have left out many of the fantastically funny things that happened there, wonderful locals like Bulldog and Wherry Terry etc. Also the shooting of the chef and many other things … Allegedly. So I was told. Work of fiction, do not quote me. I am not liable to libel as this has been told to me and is not my experience or recollection. Without prejudice. Anon - 24th January 2024 |
How lovely to read David Coveney’s account of this well remembered pub from my childhood. Like David I spent 3 weeks every summer holidaying at Kelling Heath with my parents and 4 siblings. The site had not been opened long and still had barbed wire in areas left from the sea defences during the war. Steam trains still ran on the railway up to Halt, long before Kelling halt was created and we used to dash to ‘the point’ when we heard them chuffing by so we could watch the steam curl up from down below. Although the farm was not part of the campsite we used to climb the farm gate and walk along past it up to the road to Halt. We marvelled at all the rosettes on the wall of the huge shed. We also used to scrump apples from the cottage that was over the railway at the crossing, and pull carrots from the field going up to it. In those days that was not part of the campsite we used site but I believe it is now. |
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O. S. Map 1885 Courtesy of NLS map images |
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