I’m on BBC Radio Norfolk at 11.15 this morning, talking to Chris Goreham about the Norfolk Almanac of Disasters. And then I’m skiving off for the day with DH and the kids. The words ‘Simpsons movie’ are being bandied about…
Yesterday – as it’s a special place for us – we went to Wells-next-the-sea. The sun was shining. And we sat on the beach for about three hours (sans book, sans PDA) just watching the clouds scud across and paddling with the kids and collecting shells; the water was lovely. Best thing about Wells is that the beach is enormous. Although there were loads of people there, we weren’t crammed in and you still had lots of space. (I liked the pattern of lines here. I should've maybe taken this with less sky and got the line of seashells in too, but I'm still playing with the camera and getting used to it.)
One thing I hadn’t seen before: when the wind blew, little clumps of sand started rolling down the beach, a bit like a cross between a snowball and tumbleweed, gradually increasing in size. Very odd.
Came home to find the most lovely bouquet of flowers from my best friend. (Waves to London with a big smile.) Then out for dinner, when we had another draughts match between son and DH. Son was getting fed up with being trounced (chess is his game – interestingly, it seems he’s 14th in his school British Chess Championship, so how come he’s taken until now to tell us?) and challenged me. I’m not good at draughts so he was beating me… until DH took over, and taught him some finer points of strategy (i.e. why I’d done badly and why son ultimately lost the game). It’s lovely watching them doing some father and son stuff; this and pitch-and-putt will definitely be bonding for them. (Son claims to be rubbish at sport, as does daughter - help, they were meant to inherit DH’s sporting brilliance, not my hopelessness!)