The essentials are here in Sam Jordison's Guardian piece where he tells us:
But what will it do for the city?
Sam also points to the literary history of the city starting with Julian of Norwich, a very good source for more of that being the website Literary Norfolk (you'll find me here) - there really has been a great deal. The famous Creative Writing Course, on which I have had the honour to teach, is another major factor, as is the less-sung and much undervalued undergraduate Cultural Studies (and subsequent names for the same course) at what is now NUCA (some dozen or so of the writers who passed through that have now published books or are shortly about to).
The Writers' Centre has been a phenomenon. It has grown year on year in both ambition and achievement. The director, Chris Gribble, has been an inspirational, tireless figure, co-ordinating, promulgating, generating and driving forwards. The team is terrific. They have attended to the great and established without neglecting the apparently small and new because they can see that the latter is where growth comes from.
As for myself, I came to the area to write and deliver a poetry course at the art school. Clarissa established her studio in the butcher's shop that is our house in Wymondham. Norwich has something of the air of Bruges, or Cambridge without the colleges: it is beautiful and lively without the self-conscious chic of a desperate tourist town. It is small enough to be readily comprehensible without being parochial. In the last fifteen years it has become more international with the good fortune of having developed at a time of easier relations between cultures. Norfolk was cheap when we moved in. The sea is not far away and the streets and cafes are full of writers, readers, artists and musicians. We have been here long enough now to recognise some faces at every cultural event or indeed in most streets, while being aware that there are many more who are new to us. Norwich can be a very intelligent looking city.
Every so often I feel a little melancholy as though I had exhausted my usefulness here. Then I want to move away to live either in a cottage in the wilds a long way from anywhere or in a small inner city flat either in London or some other European capital where I can pop down to the local cafe and spend my latter years reading and scribbling. I want something to be totally new and blank-slate. I expect that is primarily the awareness that I am approaching sixty-five in a year and a half and the sense that it must mean something. I want to think and read from scratch and maybe build a bigger word-castle than I have yet done, something that is the shape of the world as I guess it to be.
Whether that will happen or not, I will have been very lucky to have lived and worked here with such remarkable people, in a city that is discovering itself as a place not in a forgotten pre-industrial corner of England but possibly somewhere at the heart of things in the human spirit. That, I think, is what - apart from the institutional, commercial or branding aspect - the UNESCO status actually means.