Have just got home after a week in Norfolk with my family. The car has been unpacked, washing machine whirring (sand in turn-ups on jeans... grrrr forgot about that!), post been delved through and at last I'm sat down eating buttery toast
and crisps and sorting out my 465 images. Most of which are rubbish... anyway the holiday was perfect, up there in my 'top holidays of all time' list. Everything was just 'right'. The weather was delightfully challenging. A little bleak, but as I've said so many times before, I adore bleak, I love getting wrapped up, love wellies, coats, snuggling into layers. And yes, maybe there was one occasion when I was so chilled to the bones after sitting on the beach in a jumper, fleece and waterproof, with beach mats wrapped around me, that it took a skin-blistering hot bath to thaw me. But even that, now, seems cool. And yes, most of the ice-cream sellers had bailed out because of the appauling weather. And yes, we could park for free in most places because the ticket attendants had given up all hope, closed their huts and gone somewhere more sensible. But it was totally my kind of holiday, I don't need heat, or swimming pools. For me there cannot possibly be anything better than stomping through sand dunes, flying kites and dreaming of owning little, rickety beach huts with people I love, and actually, the sun did come out on one day! And I did live a little dangerously by removing my socks!
And now I'm looking forward to climbing into my own enormous bed, with fresh white linen (line dried of course) and sleeping... Good night x