I'm on holiday in very sunny, very beautiful Norfolk, some place between Hunstanton and Brancaster.
We cycle every day to the big open beach, you've never seen such a big blue expanse of sky. There's hardly any wind so great for frisbee chucking and general lazing around. Only real problem is the tide goes out for bloody miles.
JoBee and her hubby come to visit on Friday. She's a great swimmer, she powers past me, I try and keep up with her, but she aint stopping, we swim out quite a long way. In the distance we can see a sandbank and decide to swim out to it, it doesn't seem that far. The more we swim towards it the further away it seems. We stop and have our doubts as to how far it actually is, we can just about see a huge silver seal sunbathing and a few birds on the sandbank. Land ahoy, it's Noah and Nelly. We neglected to bring a flag, but we name our new territory Sandland. The sandbank stretches
for miles, I imagine myself in Frank Herbert novel even though I've never read one.
We swim for home, it's a bit tougher swimming back against the retreating tide, it's very hard trying to keep a course. Disappointingly there's no welcoming party to greet us home from our epic voyage, they're busy eating or playing frisbee, it's like we've never been away.
I must mention my sea trout which I barbecued and served on a bed of samphire with homemade salsa verde later that evening.