Norfolk Coast

And here is the harbour at Wells-next-the-Sea.  It is still a working port. Although you might think you were stepping back in time several hundred years.

You see, not a person in sight, again.  Lovely for getting away from it all.  And, unusually, the sun is shining.

We went to Wells regularly when the children were small. Always I remember it being absolutely freezing cold, the sea a deep dark grey colour, most uninviting, and a chill wind blowing from the North at all times.  Norfolk, the country of the North Folk, unprotected by any shield from weather gusting straight from the North Pole. 

We always walked the long mile down the sea wall to the shoreline, in the teeth of the North Wind.  The children moaned and cried. Their legs were tired, it was too cold to eat an ice-cream, and it was not buckets and spades weather.

The sands were not golden, but hamster-coloured.  Sort of dun verging on grey.

Then, after a short spell on the so-called beach, we would have to walk all the way back again.  Strange that I never remember the sea being blue, or the sands golden. 

So today, it seems like a huge treat, and a delight.  Blue sea and sky, golden sand, and driving the mile to the end of the sea defences.  This is my alternative to the Outer Hebrides, and not a bad one.