Southwold (Day 2)

No dawn chorus this morning just the cry of seagulls, the noise from the refuse collectors and the chatting of the painters working on the properties around us. We were tired having waited until after eleven last night to draw our blinds as not to draw too much attention to Marge, then awake at seven to open them again. A small price to pay for a free overnight spot with sea view in a nice town. The town slowly awoke. Yet more tradespeople arrived. Most of the properties here seem to be second homes or holiday lets. The give-away, shutters and blinds drawn. A property here is a sound investment, the prices high. 

We had decided to stay in the area walking out locally to catch the passenger ferry to Walberswick passing on the path a sculpture of a nightjar, one of twelve nightjar and moth sculptures to be found along the Sandlings Walk between Southwold and Ipswich.

They do like a sign in Southwold and the jetty at the ferry proved this.

Eight of us squeezed on the little rowing boat and we were across the other side of the tidal river Blyth in minutes. We sat in the shelter of the sand dunes, dozing, reading and reflecting on life.

Along the coast we could see the imposing Sizewell nuclear power station. The sea rolled in and the wind blew the marram grass which brushed against our legs in the breeze. Mid-afternoon the tide retreated leaving a deflated foil balloon on the beach which John picked up. One less item to harm the sea life. Rested from an easier day we took the ferry back across and after dropping our rucksacks back at Marge walked into town for another drink sat in the sunshine outside The Sole Bay pub. 

Tomorrow we will leave Southwold and head further down the coast, so this evening walked out onto the seafront just across from Marge for a last look out to sea. The wind cool, but the sun still warm we happily strolled past the pretty cottages. The evening sky is clear, streaked with just little whisps of light cloud so tonight we will probably see the full moon, a supermoon in all its splendour. 

Southwold

The morning chorus ended this morning with the call of the cuckoo. We'd spent a peaceful night at The White Horse, Upton, a pub visited by Prince Charles with a large photograph displayed as proof on a wall inside. We'd also slept well after yesterdays cycle, or perhaps from two drinks in the pub garden. 

Firstly, today we had to find water for our tank. A gentle drive along quiet country roads lined with blood red poppies took us to the boat moorings at Reedham where hosepipes attached to taps provided water for a small donation in the box.

As the coin hit the bottom of the box, we decided we were possibly the only doners. Our historical visit today was to be Burgh Castle, a Roman Fort built around 300 A.D. Archaeological excavations have revealed coins, pottery, tools, knives, animal bone, tiles and other building materials.

As we rounded a corner and the fort came in to view we were impressed by the ruins and how they'd withstood time. We sat on the grass on the west side and ate pasties whilst enjoying views across Breydon Water and the marshlands.

The area reminded us very much of the Marais in France. The paths around the site and nearby church, were busy with dog walkers, many of whom ignored the 'dogs on leads' signs that adorned every gate post. Why? The weather warm once again with a blue and white tablecloth of a sky we returned to Marge. Time to cross the border, Marge. Head for Suffolk. We have spent six nights in Norfolk and enjoyed our time there very much. We found the people friendly, the vibe laid back and the countryside and seaside pretty. We'll definitely return, we know there's so much more to see. 

On to Lowestoft to check out an overnight parking spot at Lowestoft Ness, the most easterly point of England. It was not what we expected, a little bit underwhelming. The stop was by a construction site alongside the sea wall behind the Birds Eye factory. It was a no. There was only one place really to head to, Southwold, which was always a planned stop on our trip.

There are a few free spaces at South Green right in the town centre and fortunately there was one waiting for Marge. We had come to Southwold on a mission. For John to drink a pint of 0.5% Ghost Ship from the tap in a pub in the town where it is produced at the Adnams brewery. After some enquiries no luck.

Then after we'd walked around the town, visiting the pier with its mad arcade full of home-made coin operated machines we found ourselves right outside the Sole Bay Inn across the road from the brewery.

Well if they didn't sell it here where would they. Result! Mission accomplished. 

Fish and Chips from The Little Fish and Chip shop in the town completed the day. Southwold is nicknamed Islington on Sea with its charming beach huts, lighthouse, independent shops and pier it attracts people from London just a two and a half hour drive away, which is why you can drink prosecco at the fish and chip shop whilst you wait for your meal to be cooked to order.

Very civilised. Its residents however are an interesting mix. A man in his sixties wearing a Ramones T-shirt and canvas converse baseball boots, a lady in pyjamas, purple slippers and a blue poncho, Yorkshire people, each trying to be the last through the door in their local pub so they didn't have to pay for the round of drinks. 

Tonight we have a lovely view of the sea. So far there is just Marge. We must respect the area, the neighbours and locals by keeping a low profile otherwise a No Overnight' sign will go up. So no nonsense Marge please.

Upton, Nr: Acle.

At nine this morning the Ranworth church bell rang out calling the parishioners to the Sunday morning service. As for us, it signalled, time to get up. Yet again, the morning was bright and warm. A blue metallic sky lit the broad. Right Marge, day off for you today, we're going cycling. 

A short drive back to Wroxham, lunch bought and we were on our way alongside the Bure Valley Railway to Aylsham, or so we thought. At the Beginning of the cycle path, work was being undertaken to improve the path, so we followed the diversion along the road and onto a footpath. On the road, Angela's front wheel slipped on some sand and she nearly fell off. This isn't fun!

Then onto the footpath. This isn't fun either! We partly cycled and walked, the long grass whipping against our legs, eventually finding ourselves at the bottom of some steps leading up onto the cycleway. The ride was hard going on the narrow path, loose gravel under the tyres of the small wheels of our Brompton bicycles.

The Bure Valley train passed us on its way back to Wroxham setting a seed in our minds that this might be the way to return to Marge. We paused a while to eat our lunch and for John to pick field mushrooms.

Butterflies sat on the path, taking flight a split second before our wheels touched them. After two hours we arrived at Aylsham, tired from struggling against one of the cyclists' pet hates, a head wind. We cycled around twelve miles, and knew it. Tesco loomed large as we arrived in the town and we rewarded our efforts with a box of mint chocolate ice creams. Yes, a box! Across the road at the station ticket office, we enquired as to the time of the next train to be told it was just about to leave and we'd missed it. Oh, and it was the last one of the day. What! It was still sat in the station. John walked around and the guard asked if we were going to board it. Quick, buy a ticket! The officious man in the ticket office did not seem happy, well sorry mate you should have been more helpful. Anyway, that's another twenty pounds in the coffers.

Angela was well excited about riding on the train. There's nothing like the smell of a steam train and smut in your eye. Forty-five minutes later we were back at Wroxham. It was now late afternoon and we couldn't believe yet another day had almost passed by. It's only when you get older that you realise you must live every day to its fullest. 

Tonight's stop is The White Horse community pub at Upton, near Acle. A couple of drinks in the pub garden with the sound of birdsong ringing in our ears ended the day nicely. We have no idea where we will visit tomorrow or where we will stay tomorrow night, but we don't mind. We know one thing, we will make the most of the day whatever we do. 

Ranworth (Day 2)

A beautiful start to the day. The sun bright, waking us early. Outside, the willow trees swayed in the breeze that blew off the broad. The other van here with us last night, couple from Sheffield, left early, so it was just Marge for a while until another van appeared just after nine. The couple in it drinking Stella Artois lager for breakfast. As you do!

Today we had planned to take a boat trip, as the guide book recommended this was the best way to see the river Bure and some of the broads. So we drove to nearby Wroxham. Should we be driving down single-track roads with grass growing in the centre of the road? Probably not Marge. Hopefully we won't meet another vehicle. At Wroxham we parked Marge in Roys' long stay car park. Roys' it appeared seemed to dominate the town. From humble beginnings in 1895 when their first village store opened the family now own numerous businesses in the area. 

We booked ourselves on the Vintage Broadsman for a two-hour trip along the river Bure visiting some of the broads along the way.

As we left Wroxham, we viewed the riverside properties, with little privacy as the river was busy with a constant flow of traffic. We passed a pretty little blue and white cottage 1920's thatched cottage with Airbnb written all over it and the former home of George Formby.

Our skipper provided interesting commentary about the wildlife, riverside homes and general history of the area whilst we observed some interesting boat skills of those driving the hire boats. Alcohol and boats, never a great mix!

A rainbow of kayaks crowded around the ice cream boat which was doing a roaring trade on this warm day. On the top deck of one holiday boat four women sunbathed, each in a different stage of buttock exposure, oblivious of a constant flow of spectators, or perhaps not.

We really enjoyed the trip, especially seeing the Norfolk Wherry, one of only eight in existence. We don't generally pay for fun, but today we were glad we did. 

Tonight we have decided to return to The Maltsters at Ranworth. Drinks in the pub garden after a walk along the lane finished the day off nicely. Where tomorrow Marge? We might just hang around the broads another day. 

Thatching reeds, bundled and stacked in a barn near to the place we are staying

Just a few of the Wroxam Swans