ST LUKE'S: I seem to be doing endless hours of overtime this week, well fifteen since Saturday to be exact, and its keeping me from the Poetry Library which makes me a little sad. Though I am happy the Poetry Library exists. Like people who can take comfort from the existence of Mars without their ever being any chance of a visit.
So as this last little bit of extra work winds down I thought I'd take the opportunity to bang out my reminisces on the time spent in Norwich the other week. On the Friday we drove up, relatively free of traffic, then spent the evening boozing in some pub plonked beside a railway bridge, it's proximity to the bridge giving it a curious western Queensland feel.
The next morning with hangovers and sleep bleary eyes we wolfed down a fry up then headed into Norwich town proper to pick Kate up from the train station. Then a tour of the sights including the Norwich Castle, which encompasses a small museum, and the cathedral as well as some of those small, charming cobbled streets small town England is so famous for.
We squandered what was left of the afternoon watching cricket at Rob's local village ground. A marvellously idiosyncratic affair, the privately owned field had straight boundaries at each end, a tree creeping curiously onto one cow corner and a chunk had been bitten out of another by the patio of the pavillion. All this topped off with a scoreboard that made AB Oval look old fashioned.
On the Sunday we toured the famous Norfolk Broads. These were man made in the dark morning of history. Dirt had been dug out (for what purpose?) and the massive ditches in its place filled up with water making an excellent playground for all manner of water borne craft. We also visited a maize maze, saw the world's shittest mini golf course and decided against picking some rancid looking fruit.
The maize maze was quite good. A local farmer ploughs a maze in his field every season and then charges people £4 to walk around it. And if you really want to be a little kid about it they give you a little clipboard with a bunch of questions to say. Needless to say I was in my element.
In the afternoon we went down to a desolate looking beach and, while we lurked by the seaside, a strange water dog appeared. At least it seemed like a water dog at first. Closer examination revealed it to to be seal. It's the closest I've ever been to seal, even close than those manky ones in SF or the lonely one frollicking in the bay in Wales.
The last stop on our itinerary was Great Yarmouth for an experience of a prototypical English summer town. We had some garbage fish and chips, battered to within an inch of armageddon, and then drove past the various fun stalls, rides, and entertainment halls the English build when it inevitably rains all over their summer holidays. Then it was back to Rob's to drop off the car, a lift into town with his Mum and a three hour bus ride back to the roses of Londres.
