(no subject)
On Friday I visited "the land that time forgot", or Aylsham as the locals like to call it. It's an ancient market town. I got some funny looks as I walked across the square, which may have been due to my gigantic woolly Arsenal hat, but more likely just because I was a stranger....it's that sort of place. As far as I could tell, the entire population seemed to spend the morning fox hunting before de-camping to the local Inn to consume gallons of dry sherry. Whether the hunting ban extends to the wilds of Norfolk is unclear although as Sherlock said.."what law is there in such a place as this!". Heaven knows what the residents do in the evening......devil-worship and sex parties probably.
Next stop was Cromer,a crumbling and largely forgotten seaside resort. It's full of dark, turreted and empty Victorian hotels. I always drive there with a sense of dread....as if I am walking up the pathway to the Hammer House Of Horror. Morrissey wrote "Everyday Is Like Sunday" for places like this....I'm sure it's haunted. Having said that, there are people on holiday in Cromer right now...sucking rock and stuff.....so I decided to be brave and have lunch. I sat at the end of the pier where, once upon a time a hundred years ago, wealthy bathers would have marvelled at a variety act singing "Roll out the Barrel" ...but on Friday it was just me,a battered cod and a faded poster of Cannon and Ball from a show in 1986. The fish wasn't local, and as a rusty trawler limped past I was glad that it wasn't.
It's hard to imagine that these places still exist, but they do....enter at your peril.....unless you like sex parties of course.
Next stop was Cromer,a crumbling and largely forgotten seaside resort. It's full of dark, turreted and empty Victorian hotels. I always drive there with a sense of dread....as if I am walking up the pathway to the Hammer House Of Horror. Morrissey wrote "Everyday Is Like Sunday" for places like this....I'm sure it's haunted. Having said that, there are people on holiday in Cromer right now...sucking rock and stuff.....so I decided to be brave and have lunch. I sat at the end of the pier where, once upon a time a hundred years ago, wealthy bathers would have marvelled at a variety act singing "Roll out the Barrel" ...but on Friday it was just me,a battered cod and a faded poster of Cannon and Ball from a show in 1986. The fish wasn't local, and as a rusty trawler limped past I was glad that it wasn't.
It's hard to imagine that these places still exist, but they do....enter at your peril.....unless you like sex parties of course.