Getting out of the Portswood Triagle is something of a treat. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it acquires the same kind of intensity that talking to new people does, as I explain a week or so ago.
Every now and again, we go and visit my folks in Norfolk and drop in on friends nearby before getting there. My folks live in the arse-end of nowhere I’m and getting there by public transport is practically impossible. Last time I checked, the train to the nearest town from home took seven changes, then a bus to the end of the route and then either ninety minute walk or a stupidly expensive taxi. Getting there is horrendous if you have all your faculties (or a car). Not being able to drive and being barking, it just isn’t going to happened.
Anyway, we dropped in on a friend on Friday; made his day by giving him a load of Muppet Memorabilia, had a nice tea a wander round Kings Lynn where I saw my first working Tide Clock (I’ll admit that doesn’t sound thrilling, but God I’m easily pleased these days!) and then went to the hotel in Norwich.
That’s where things began to go a little wrong. Most of the time, I’m okay if I’m with my partner and things would have been fine except that somewhere between the car park and the hotel, we got lost. Now I’m not big on being about after dark, part of my weirdness involves having to be back indoors by about midday or…. stuff… things. I don’t know what I think will happen. I know thing. I know things wont, actually, but my brain is hard-wired to hunker down by lunchtime. So, strange city, after dark, lost hotel. Panic attack. Welcome to Norwich.
Now, bizarrely, I Saw something that I recognised that calmed me down and I’m almost embarrased to say that that *thing* was the Old Anglia Television Building. I saw that and had an instant flashback to childhood; when we lived in Cardington and everything was still safe and warm.
I spent most of the rest of the weekend humming the tune to “Sale of the Centrury” and giggling at the intro “From Norwich it’s . . . . THE QUIZ OF THE WEEK!”
Anyway, we eventually found the hotel as I bimbled along in my Classic TV Happy Place and a grand nights sleep was had.
The following morning, we went to Fellbrigg Hall which was so full of wonderful architctural curiosities, the best furniture ever made and best of all – for us kitchenphiles – a full set of kitchen coppers. I could have wept.
But that’s me.
We had a bit of time before meeting more friends, so we tripped off to Cromer and had a crab salad for lunch. Cromer Crab? Bloody hell, yes!
There’s a probably going to be a seperate blog for that . . . I’m almost regretting deleting my “You call that food . . . ?” blog.
Anyway, meeting with friends went well, we had good pie and good company and a fantastic late night walk through parts of Norwich old town.
What was wonderful was that right up until we walked through the Cathedral courts, it had been practically silent; no one around. Unfortunately, after leaving the Cathedral Courtyards, you immediately turn out onto streets full of drunken idiots.
Aaaaaaaand there is the panic! Bad way to end a wonderful day, but it was, none the less, a wonderful day. I’m not going to forget that in a hurry!