Have just survived the annual Blakeney weekend with nothing more than an annoying cough and fuzzy head. No real reason for this, because we had a very good time in excellent weather.
It started a day early, really, after I dropped Dot at the hospital for her annual check-up (following a mix-up over appointment time) and drove out to Paston to see Lucy and pick up the costumes she’d borrowed from Dragon Hall (later returned there). Lucy wasn’t too bad, but is about to leave for a couple of weeks away with her brother and sister up north. She wants to buy a house in Mundesley, but the complications of it all are taking their toll.
While I was with her the nurse arrived and waxed eloquent on the appalling slow driving that constantly held her up. Clearly a top nurse, and she did the job well too. I left while she was still in action and drove to the Kelling area to try to find the start to a walk I’d planned. This proved strangely elusive, and I was feeling rather faint from lack of food (possibly) so I stopped for a bap and tea at a garden centre (you can tell how desperate I was) before heading home.
Dot and I intended to look again for the walk start on our way to Blakeney the next day, but we were held up by a series of slow-moving vehicles and in the end went straight to the hotel, arriving in rain. But we were not dismayed: the forecast was good. So we paid our usual visit to the Blakeney Hotel’s upstairs lounge for scone and tea – bizarrely, Lucy was there with a friend. For an ill person, she doesn’t half get around.
I had been told by Sharon – physiotherapist and tide expert – that there were some very high tides due, so Dot, Dave and I walked down to the quay after evening meal, but it was too early. Very inconsiderate tide-plannning by whoever is in charge of that. The next morning were were away from Blakeney before it repeated itself. We parked in the layby just outside Holt and walked through by the Spout Hills path, where we encountered some enthusiastic bracken-cutters. We declined an offer to join them and continued into the town, where we found some excellent but very expensive furniture and had coffee etc at Byfords, as you do.
I fetched the car and picked the others up in town to proceed to the start of the walk, which I had now tracked down on a map and turned out to be about a quarter of a mile from the garden centre I had visited the day before. Very pleasant five miles-plus, walking downhill off Kelling Heath, crossing the coast road at Kelling and reaching the shingle beach by the Quag. Julia, in open sandals, had trouble with the shingle, but we persevered until we reached Weybourne, where we walked up into the town and had lunch at BunTeas (get it?).
BunTea (or Zoie, to give her her real name) proved extremely loquacious. We stayed awhile, then proceed up the road and then by a narrow and rather overgrown path up Telegraph Hill to the railway line. Quite a steep climb in places, but from the line an easy stroll back to the car.
When we stopped in Cley so that the Vigorous Three could look at some shops, I discovered that I had lost the hotel key. After getting a substitute one from the hotel I retraced our steps (the lay-by, the start of the walk, Byfords) without success. I was about to give up when, back at the hotel, I made a last, in-depth search of the car and found the key beside the driver’s seat. It had apparently fallen through a hole in my gilet pocket that I didn’t know was there.
The next day’s walk came courtesy of Dave: it was one they had done previously on their own and took us from Holkham (following the obligatory drink) along the beach to Wells, which was extremely crowded around the famous beach hut area. From there we walked into town along the straight path, pausing for breath at one point on a sunny bench – it was a warm and bright day – and then finding a tiny garden cafe just off the main street, where we had a rather refined lunch.
After considering briefly whether to catch the Coasthopper back to Holkham, we decided to walk it. After a longish stretch on the road we reached a wide, straight and level path into the Holkham estate, crossing back to near our starting point. Unbelievably the other three had the energy left to look round Adnams’ shop. I found walking across the road to retrieve the car much less exhausting. We ended with an ice cream / lollipop at the cafe.
We then made an attempt to drive through the estate as we had done many times before, but were stopped by a security man who said this was no longer permitted. Instead we circumnavigated the estate on country roads, establishing that the place is indeed massive.
We all went to bed fairly early. The hotel more or less shut down at about 9pm, but it is still pleasant enough, with good food and comfortable rooms. Next day the others had to leave for home (or in some cases Aylesbury) after breakfast, so we were away quickly too, calling in at Holt to buy two rather nice lamps from Bakers and Larners – Dot negotiating a discount rather impressively.
We were home at lunchtime, and both of us pretty tired. Dot organised her lamps, of course, and I unpacked, but after that we did a lot of sitting down, savouring the twin delights of Vettel dropping out of the British Grand Prix while in the lead (recorded) and Serena Williams being knocked out of Wimbledon by Sabina Lisicki (live). Laura Robson could have got through to the next round, but she made a hash of it.
