Last Thursday we showed up at the National Trust site at Horsey Mere. Now am I right in thinking the National Trust is worth millions? If so charging people to park in the middle of nowhere might go some way to explaining their wealth.
With us today were two of Gorleston's finest: pop-king Ronaldo and drama queen Sharon. With no clear agenda we just headed off in warm sunshine, enjoying the opportunity for a catch up. Something usually happens. And indeed, it did.
Tracking across the top of the dunes, we sensed something. Up ahead, another walker was beside himself with excitement. In his newly adopted role as tour guide, he delighted in informing everyone, that one of the grey seals on the beach was just about to give birth.
From a seal's point of view you couldn't have chosen a better day: the media intrusion was probably less welcome. People watched with their cameras as the troop of pregnant seals started the shuffle. You know that dance they do: kind of a cross between the funky worm and the sea saw; the whole thing oddly reminiscent of Ann Widdecombe's worst moments on "Strictly Come Dancing." I'm guessing the dance is dual purpose, in that it proves a pleasant distraction while also serving as a useful pre-birth loosener.
Let's hear it now for mum. With no dad in sight she did a fine job. No gas and air, no epidural and pretty much no fuss.
With mother and pup doing well we headed off to the Nelson's Head to celebrate. The pub is real old school: the sort of place where you know they're not going to waste money on anything that's not essential - decoration for instance. But there are plus points - an open fire, Woodfordes' beer and a couple of outside benches that would be lovely on a summer's day. As for the food ...well I'd suggest a picnic unless you're partial to a spicy parsnip soup served up as a purée.
So there you have it - not a travel report but I guess a birth was always going to be more interesting.
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