There is a village on the Nene that has spent nearly four hundred years living down a joke.
The story goes that a man lay down for a nap on a haycock in a meadow by the river. While he slept the water rose and carried the haycock off with him still on top of it. He woke to find no meadow, no bank, and no dry land at all, only water in every direction, and no notion of how far he had travelled or where the current had taken him.
Someone called across to him and asked him where he was from. Faced with a world that had turned to open sea, the poor man gave the only answer he had left. Wansford, he said. Wansford in England.
The tale first reached print in 1638 in a set of comic verses, and the village has been Wansford-in-England ever since. The Haycock Inn beside the bridge takes its name from the story, and shows the scene painted on its front, though the inn has kindly rewritten the ending so that the sleeper floats towards Wansford rather than away from it.
Where: Wansford Bridge and the Haycock Inn, on the old Great North Road.












