A Christmas Moment On Riverside

They do say sunshine is the best antiseptic. Quite right, because just stepping out onto Pottergate at ten thirty on Christmas Day did the job. Fittingly the bells were ringing but there was no one to be seen: Norwich Central's soul purpose was to provide some sort of post apocalyptic festival backdrop to two lone walkers.


The loose plan was to follow the Riverside Walk. A couple of minutes on and the first jogger passed us. Soon other walkers appeared, mainly adults, some in new M&S jumpers, all happy to smile and share, a "Merry Christmas." Sue latched onto this very quickly, taking it as a challenge to get a response from those people whose natural response, as they prepare to finally pass the person they've been approaching on a narrow walkway for the last two hundred metres is to look down or away. A couple of early-morning hoodies were completely thrown and I swear another guy's head spun, Exorcist-style in astonishment at Sue's random friendliness.

By now we were in that wealthy part of Norwich where the value of any property is directly proportional to your view of the cathedral. Seems a shame that wherever you go in this world, the church has nicked all the good places. Anybody like to put a valuation on that cricket pitch, belonging to Norwich School?

Next up - the poignant Christmas episode. Crossing our path, in the cathedral grounds, came an old lady, bent over, shoes busted and clearly homeless. Her faltering steps took her past the church doors where they were singing, "Hark the Herald Angels."

Inside the congregation were warm in the knowledge that they didn't have to worry about their winter coats, their cars or their Christmas drinks bill.


Outside in another world, not twenty yards away, the old lady was tending to her blue plastic home. With the sound of the singing all around, she kneeled, as she busied herself sewing and repairing her tent, ready for rain that night.

I don't think I have any more to add to that. Except to wish you all a Happy New Year.

Location:Manor Gardens,Great Yarmouth,United Kingdom

Cake At Winterton

Thursday proved to be yet another perfect beach day. And we spent it at Winterton, a place I hadn't visited for a good few years. There's a good circular walk and we started from the beach, where the playlist in my head was all Lou Reed, Sinatra and the Shangrilas.
Crossing the sands to meet and greet us was Bill, the seal warden, a man in his element after the recent storm and sea surge. The story goes that half the seals at Horsey had been swept down the coast and were now littering Winterton Beach: the pups seeking sanctuary in the dunes while the huge males lay abandoned on the shoreline like a cargo of DFS sofas. Credit then to Bill and his team of volunteers for their rescue work.


For certain there's a Pixar movie here. Think about it: storms, lost seals, separation, desperate journeys and reunited families - a dramatic story, all dewy-eyed and done with funny walks and whiskers. It'd be a smash.

After weaving our way through the wildlife on the beach, we crossed a line of dunes, where you could quite easily make a cheap sequel to "Lawrence of Arabia." Through the dunes and the terrain changed again. Suddenly we were crossing a gently, undulating grass prairie that could have been the Dakota Badlands or even the Yorkshire Moors. And I guess it's this kind of variety that keeps people coming back to Winterton. In fact you could say - it's the wonder of Winterton.

But now here's the highlight. Stopping for a rest before the return leg, Sue produced some lunch, including two large, pieces of Christmas cake, which were pretty much perfect in every way. Pity you couldn't have been there.

Location:Manor Gardens,Great Yarmouth,United Kingdom

Wide Awake In Wickhampton

People ask me,"Were you grumpy as a youngster?" Not sure really, but I was definitely agitated around eleven o'clock last Thursday. Maybe it was all down to Simon Cowell, cancelling on me at the last moment.

Desperate to get out the house, Sue and I took the road to nowhere, better known to you lot as Halvergate. The drive's worth it just for that blind summit: you know the one on Branch Road, just after you've turned off the Acle Strait. Meet a transporter at the top and you'd be in a ditch at the side of the road till after New Year.


Opening the car door, outside Wickhampton Church and everything picked up. The sky was a cold blue; the air crisper than a nasal spray and the only noise - a lone farmer giving it plenty on his tractor.

Ever heard of Andrew John Lees? Seems he's the guy who saved Halvergate marshes by campaigning against plans to turn the Norfolk wetlands into vast prairies of cereal production. With him in mind we set off across the marshes: Sue trying to photograph the birds and me getting down and dirty on an impassable, mud-bound bridle way.



By three o'clock the mist was forming, the dykes were iced and the sun had clocked off for the day. No matter cos we were energised, the endorphins released - witness Sue singing and traversing the path "Strictly " style as we headed back to the car.

Tips: this would be one great place to cycle in the summer, because there are paths leading off everywhere. It's also a good place to calm down. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Location:Manor Gardens,Great Yarmouth,United Kingdom

Gateway To Yarmouth

People sometimes ask me when I first came to Gorleston.

Well it was almost thirty years back when I would travel by train from Norwich to Great Yarmouth and then bike into Gorleston. Believe me, my arrival point, that triangular area round Yarmouth station was never going to make it as a picnic destination. British Heritage and the National Trust wouldn't want to know. Sure it had water on two sides, but it also featured the Vauxhall footbridge, an unfortunate entry point to town and a horror movie setting late at night. Other attractions included a car park, car lot, car wash, lots of metal fencing, extensive advertising hoarding and more wasted space than you'd find in an episode of Dr. Who.


Well the other day I had reason to drive past the station and a flash of colour caught my eye. What was going on? Somebody had painted and restored the Vauxhall Bridge. The colour: a not unattractive rusty red. And there was more...

Opposite the station and stretching for seventy metres, was a twenty-eight panelled mural depicting Norfolk's close association with waterways, bridges and railways. The mural starts with the first rail tracks towards Acle, being laid in 1844. Other pictures show the flooding of Southtown, mods on the seafront and the Birds Eye factory responsible for the first ever fish finger. Ok - so the Louvre in Paris has no cause for alarm but heck - it was something!


Any local will tell you - it's gonna be a tough ask to restore this area. So deep respect for the people who are driving this initiative.

Location:Manor Gardens,Hopton on Sea,United Kingdom

Buckenham Air Show

This was a strange one so let me explain: Buckenham Carrs is an area, eight miles east of Norwich where thousands of rooks, crows and jackdaws gather each winter night to perform some crazy stuff, before roosting in the nearby woods.


To get there it's through Strumpshaw, along the delightful Low Road and round to Buckenham station. From here, it was just spitting distance to our viewing point, next to a ruined shelter on the edge of a stubbled field.

On arrival, daylight was bleeding and as we looked about, birds were beginning to decorate the trees and power lines, but there was no sign of the large numbers we'd been hoping for.

Now be warned - as an experience, this is something of a slow burn and it took a while, before we realised that the dark border on the far field, was in fact a carpet of birds.

And then things started to get interesting. Without warning the chattering built and gradually the swarm hovered, like some vast stealth jet, first swaying left and then right before returning to the ground. Each time this happened, the flock edged across the field, closer to our viewing point.

At 4.10 the Norwich to Lowestoft train lit up the countryside. Surely this was the signal - but still the birds stayed close to the ground.

After several false alarms and with the birds screaming, it was finally showtime. Positioned right in front of us, the birds rose up into a huge swirling vortex. At that moment, in the deep, black, cold of the Norfolk countryside, something essentially primal was going on. This was something to really put the wind up Tippi Hendren.


But there was more. Suddenly, over our shoulder, another swarm arrived, to swell the numbers. The sky was now full of birds (up to 50,000) shrieking and shape-shifting: and I was laughing out loud because it was so exhilarating. Five minutes later and it was over.

So here's what to do: choose a clear evening, tap NR13 4HW into the sat nav, make up a flask of hot chocolate and take the kids out for an adventure.

They'll love it and so will you.

Location:Manor Road,Hopton on Sea,United Kingdom