UPSIDE DOWN

I love maps. One of the earliest I actually owned, acquired from goodness knows where, was a sheet of eastern England printed on stiff paper which had been coated with some sort of waterproofing agent. It showed all the main roads at the time of printing - probably the late 1930s - and had evidently been produced for the benefit of motorists. But I used it for cycling. It fitted neatly into my saddlebag, and because of its stiff resilience was ideal to use in wet or windy weather. Whereas ordinary maps in these conditions tended to degenerate into lumps of pulp, this one simply shook itself off, folded itself crisply, and shrugged off the effects of inclement weather.
For all that I am not a collector, though I do have a few map books on my shelves which relate mainly to Norfolk, rather than to Lincolnshire, including Faden and Bryant, copies of one or two early Ordnance Survey sheets, and even a copy of Ogilby's strip maps of England and Wales, dated 1675. The original, that is. Not my edition, alas.
To an extent my interest was further enhanced when I began 'serious' leisure walking which meant, in the early days, walking the Peddars Way. There was something about this Roman road which puzzled me, for although we invariably began our walks at the southern end (near the Suffolk border) and gravitated towards the sea, my instincts suggested this was the wrong way round in a sense that the Peddars felt much more like a route which drove inland rather than merely leading to the sea.
This largely flew - and still flies, for that matter - against the grain of most archaeological advice, which usually suggests it was built to enable Roman troops to gain the seashore was rapidly as possible to enable a crossing of The Wash by ferry; whereas I was beginning to see The Wash and some of its neighbouring beaches, particularly in north-west Norfolk, as anchorages and landing areas, with people and supplies being offloaded and moved inland, possibly along the Peddars Way and, for that matter, along the Holkham road, too.
My conviction was further underlined when, looking at a map of Roman roads in Norfolk some years' ago, I inadvertently turned it upside down (with north at the bottom) and glimpsed the network for the first time as a captain out at sea might have done. Several other of these Roman roads which led directly to flat beaches also suddenly looked like tempting places to bring cargoes ashore.
Something similar occurred years' later when I was looking at a map of Britain and some of the countries bordering the North Sea, contemplating the voyages of the Danes and the Anglo-Saxons, and wondering why they bothered with us in the first place. Then I turned it upside down, and suddenly the old haunt of Doggerland and the Dogger Banks looked like a sort of 'inland sea' with an outlet corridor (the English Channel) at the top and another, larger outlet at the bottom.
It also suggested an 'inland sea' surrounded by tempting shorelines which any curious sailor in, for example, Denmark or Norway, would certainly want to explore or exploit.
Almost all modern maps are orientated with north at the top, and there is nothing wrong with that. It is standard practice. So we have grown used to the format, and expect it. But there's nothing wrong with turning a sheet so that south is at the top. Sometimes, upside down can be good.