The Bus To Martham

There's no easy way of saying this, but the other day I caught the bus to Martham. I know what you're thinking - why would you even bother?

Let me explain. Just fifty yards from Sue's front door in Hopton is a bus stop for the 1A and sometimes, as I pass by, I get to wondering whether I'll ride that bus before I die.

Now for some reason the thought stayed with me, like one of those naughty dreams that flavours your whole day and so last Thursday, with blue skies calling and a bus pass in hand, I finally flagged down the 9.48 bus. I'll be honest, my expectations were not high.

You won't remember last Thursday, but here in Norfolk it was positively, continental. Sitting top-deck, wrapped in a comfort blanket of warm sunshine I tried to second guess where the driver was heading. Maybe it was his birthday, because clearly he had been given carte-blanche as far as the route was concerned. I'm guessing instructions were along the lines of, "Just get to Martham before midday." Marine Parade on Gorleston seafront looked utterly sensational. After Great Yarmouth, the bus weaved through Scratby, Hemsby and Ormesby, all the while just a kick in the pants away from a sparkling North Sea, (now that's a phrase you don't hear too often).



And suddenly I was getting off the bus in Martham. And it looked like they'd been expecting me: the grass on the Green had been cut, the litter collected, the children returned to school and the sky enlarged to twice its normal size. Like some old codger I sat on a bench reading, relaxed as a sunbather. Next up it was a tour of the village, before having fish and chips down by the duck pond. It was only an hour but for that hour I owned Martham.

Back on the bus I reflected on what I'd learned: namely, that in most cases, it's better to go than not go.

Location:Manor Gardens,Hopton on Sea,United Kingdom

The Lakes At Lound

For some weeks now the Water Board has been targeting Sue's house, encouraging us to pay a visit to the lakes at Lound. Finally we decided to investigate.

The lakes, which include the famous one at Fritton, are located on the Norfolk/Suffolk boarder and track west, before eventually emptying into the river at St. Olaves. Seems they were dug by hand some 150 years ago and now provide the water for Lowestoft, Hopton and the surrounding villages. That's a lot of water. Ironic then, that on our arrival at the 280 acre site, the fire alarm should go off. So much for peace and quiet.


Looking in all directions, I searched for the "wealth of wildlife", but nothing. Unsurprisingly the animals had scarpered, with hands over their ears, till the damned ringing stopped. Sue wasn't bothered, being far too occupied picking wild mushrooms.

Hiding the mushroom stash for later collection, we jumped on our bikes and entered the park at the lane just past Blue Doors Loke. This was more like it: clearly this was where to find the good stuff. We biked the hill and parked up at Fen Barn, an excellent location for a picnic with views. And did I mention the birds? Look I'm no ornithologist, but there were all manner of tits performing Top Gun style manoeuvres over that lake. I'm reliably informed that there were also 22 species of dragonfly in the area. Unfortunately I'm not the guy to provide that sort of detail. Maybe get yourself a leaflet.

The lakes proved a good place to relax and watch the wildlife, even if bizarrely the experience was accompanied, by a soundtrack of nearby gunfire. If nothing else it's good to be reminded that the best things in life are indeed, free. Oh and cycling back with blackberries and wild mushrooms was a bonus.

You could visit here on Sunday or you could go to a car boot. Your choice.

Location:Manor Gardens,Hopton on Sea,United Kingdom

California Here I Come

When I first moved to Norfolk I was thrilled to discover that barely six miles from my home, was a place called California, so named, because gold coins had been found in the cliffs, at the same time as the American Gold Rush was happening. I have to say my first visit there was not great.

Well yesterday, almost thirty years later, I went back. Visualise if you will a one horse/one road town with arcades, a general store, caravan parks and Trisha's Chippy all fighting for scraps from Yarmouth's tourist industry and all living with the threat of erosion. At the end of the road, just before you fall into the North Sea, is the town's most famous landmark, the California Tavern.

This truly is, the land that time forgot: a place where non-standard construction is the norm, where health and safety officers aren't welcome and where a shanty town of lean-to's and unfinished DIY projects cluster together under a web of low slung power lines.

But here's the thing. As you stroll down unmade roads, gawping at gardens, decorated with choked plants, batteries, cars mounted on bricks and abandoned bikes, it's occasionally possible to catch a glimpse between houses. And there, just yards away, is grass sloping down to the sea and sky. Breathtaking. In the south of France you'd wait years and pay a king's ransom for such a place. Here I reckon you could pitch up with a van, put up a shed over the weekend and stay forever.

Hey I had a great afternoon - no really: many people, seeing the place, would order an immediate drone strike, but I enjoyed the town's ramshackle charm.

Would I live there? Well if you like the sea and the wind and life on the edge, then the place might appeal. I dread to imagine, however a winter spent perched on those cliff tops with the North Sea as your nearest neighbour. Tell you what though, it would make a great place to develop a serious drinking habit.

Location:Manor Gardens,Hopton on Sea,United Kingdom