After a day of bike riding in the Thetford Forest (well, a few hours riding, and about an hour pushing my bike back with its flattened front tire), we felt we deserved a drink before driving home. I was looking for the Flintknappers but spotted the Duke of Wellington and a public car park nearby so we went there and were not dissappointed. Well, except for the selection of ales: Greene King standards, so I had a lovely Abbott and got Jackie her large V&T and we headed out to the garden.
The garden was huge and bounded on one side by a barn/warehouse constructed of flint. The flint industry is pretty much what built this area, originally, dating back to prehistoric times and this pearly-but-black stone is in everything around here lending a shimmering, translucent feel to much of the architecture. Out in the middle of our ride we found a mausoleum built for the former owners of the estate, the Bliss family, and this structure, too, was flint.
The pub was busy but we were tired and pretty well kept to ourselves. It is just as well, probably, as Brandon is in the shadow of Lakenheath RAF Base and the locals are probably sick to death of americans. The folks at the bar were friendly enough, though and the bar, the front porch, and eventually even the garden were packed with souls doing their best to quench their thirsts.
The Endless British Pub Crawl 
I am so glad to hear you liked the Duke!!
Dean. Landlord, Duke of Wellington, Brandon
Follow your Bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls
Ahem…groan.