A walk along the embankment that links Wells to the sea, then a boat trip along Blakeney Point to see the grey seals and their pups. I took a nice photo of mother and pup – and then, looking at it later, realised that I had also snapped in the background a dead pup with its eyes pecked out. After lunch to the reserve at Cley (when I would really have liked to look at the village); it was so windy and cold that we sought early shelter in the reserve café.
First of all, a walk to the post office, stopping to admire the building materials used in local buildings: brick, carrstone and flint. Then to Hunstanton cliffs (chalk, red chalk, ginger sandstone) to see the fulmars which have come inland early to claim their nesting place, like shoppers at a Boxing Day sale. Then to the Wash at Snettisham, with its old gravel pits and line of crumbling chalets. The Wash is a good place for cockles, and there was a whole line of shells.
Then to Welney across the Ouse Washes. The Fens are a difficult place to love, particularly on a grey day. Feeding time for the whooper swans – not something I enjoy experiencing, but it was interesting to watch which birds arrived: pochards, lapwings, mallards, shovellers, some of the bolder wigeon, a single coot and a greylag. Very few of them actually seemed interested in the food: just joining a group seemed more important. More of a social occasion! Or perhaps they came afterwards with their doggy bags.
It is a repeat of the previous time I came on this holiday, except that I have more knowledge now than then – and a better pair of binoculars.
The morning at the RSPB reserve at Titchwell in beautiful sunshine, and the afternoon at Holkham beach. So many birds on the reserve: golden plovers (I’ve never seen them in such numbers), lapwings, teal, godwits, redshanks, turnstones, dunlin, a ruff, oyster catchers, brent geese, curlews, avocets, marsh harrier . . .
And a couple of grey phalaropes, which are interesting for being birds where the male incubates and looks after the offspring.
Then at Holkham this afternoon, where pink-footed geese were massing in their thousands.
The way things change: it’s only in the last few decades that pink-footed geese have arrived in any numbers.
Back again. It was dark by the time the coach got to Old Hunstanton, so I’ve only really seen the Customs House and an interesting relief (shades of Stockport) in King’s Lynn so far.
Somewhere I would definitely never visit of my own accord: Bressingham gardens and steam centre. But I enjoyed it: I was hooked as soon as I heard the carousel. It was pleasant wandering around the gardens, punctuated by occasional steam whistles and the faint carousel music. Then a quick visit to Diss (again) and a late lunch. My fourth egg of the day!
And butterflies again.
Not a holiday I would plan for myself, but there’s pleasure in doing the unexpected. A comfortable B&B on a former dairy farm between Old and New Buckenham. The countryside is anodyne but different to what I’m used to, and the villages are interesting for their commons and vernacular architecture. The weather’s a bit showery at times, but, in a tiny room with one small window under the eaves, rain is preferable to the recent heatwave.
Today was a walk to New Buckenham and time spent beside the castle ruin. It was quite magical until other people arrived and changed the atmosphere. We took great delight in a piece of lightly knapped flint which resembled a caryatid out of Degas. We also saw the whipping post in New Buckenham (which sets one thinking about the differences between then and now).
Later I walked into Old Buckenham, which is doughnutted around an enormous village green: it’s as if centrifugal force has thrown the village buildings to the outer rim. There’s a wonderfully asymmetric church which seems to combine all ages and building materials, and a much-pollarded ash which has been left to grow.
And butterflies: lots of red admirals and my first-ever conscious sighting of a gatekeeper:
Aides memoires part 3 