No, not the venerable brand of sparkling water with that famous label featuring a dainty winged nymph, named Psyche, pondering her own beauty in a pristine pool while pensively perched upon a flat white rock.

Our White Rock is in the photo. Not even a dozen dainty nymphs could make this place look presentable. This White Rock has to be almost the sloppiest spot in the City of Norwich. I wanted to photograph it in all of its glory before some do-gooders cleaned it up, an unlikely event, but you never know. Garbage galore and plastic trash are splattered with filth and everything is morosely festooned with squalid grime. Trees shroud it so the mosquitoes are poised for attack. The denizens of this putrid lair do not subscribe to the standard outdoor ethic of “you bring it in; you take it back out.”

Apparently, White Rock is a teenage hangout. What surprised me is that it has been one for at least three decades and possibly longer. As such, it qualifies as a historical place.

The reason I am writing about it is that it was mentioned in the Police Blotter in the Thursday, July 19, 2007, issue of The Evening Sun, page 5. When reading about it I wondered where it could be and why I never heard of it before. Other readers had the same reaction. So I investigated.