Blakeney

We left Wells bright and early and took the road to Cromer for our next destination, East Runton, which is in between the towns of Sheringham and Cromer. On the way we stopped off at the village of Blakeney. Blakeney Quay was a lovely small natural harbour with a few boats moored on a small inlet from the sea, which meandered through the marshes like a river. In medieval times this was a major port, but the silting up of the river eventually prevented the bigger ships getting through. The remains of a medieval grain store can still be seen. These days the front has a small selection of shops and art galleries.

We were just thinking that it was a shame we couldn’t have stayed in Blakeney as there were a few activities planned for later in the week, when suddenly a large six foot yellow duck jumped straight in front of us.

“Would you like to have a go in a duck race” it said.

“When is it?”

“Seven o’clock this evening”

“ I would have a go, but we wont be here then.”

“That’s OK, leave your number and we will call you if you win”, at which point we were directed towards a lady selling tickets.

He then jumped in front of another family, startling the little girl with them, which resulted in her kicking over a pot full of live crabs. There was then a great deal of commotion as half the people on the quay went chasing after the crabs to throw them back in to the sea before they starting attacking people.

Later in the week they were going to have their annual greasy pole competition. Once a year a pole is placed across the creek, and then greased. All the local men then have to try and get across without slipping off into the creek. Tom and I really wanted to have a go but by then we would be a few miles further down the coast.

So far we had managed to get along the coast road really well in the Motor-home. We’d been told it could be a struggle, but as the buses used the route, we thought it would be easy enough. Until, that is, we went through a town called Cley next the Sea The road was plenty wide enough for traffic to go in both directions, but the road was made a lot narrower by the parked cars. We got almost right through the village until, on the last part of the road, we hit a problem. Our side of the road was clear but cars were parked on the other side. A car coming the opposite way decided to come straight for us and then pull in between parked cars. This in itself wasn’t a problem except a guy behind driving a Honda, instead of waiting a few seconds, decided to follow him. With cars behind us and no where to go he effectively blocked the road and caused a grid lock. There was then a few frantic minutes of cars being manoeuvred back and forth until the guy in the Honda could just pull in enough to give me the exact space needed for me to edge forward. With a brick wall on one side and the Honda’s bumper on the other, a centimetre either-way and my pristine Motor-home would be that way no longer. I gritted my teeth and pressed the accelerator and just got through, with some filthy looks and shaking of heads from a couple of passers by. As far as they were concerned I had the big vehicle and was so obviously in the wrong, even though I had a clear road until some prat in a Honda decided to change that.

A few weeks later I was watching an episode of Top Gear and they showed the most stupid car accidents that had been posted on the Internet.

“There is a theme running through these adverts” said Jeremy Clarkson, “ See if you can see what it is”

Yes, you guessed it; they were all driving bloody Hondas!

Ok, rant over; on to our next stop East Runton.