Last weekend was our last little trip away before Baby Wallis makes her grand appearance on the world scene. Flying is definitely out of the question, so we decided to drive to Norfolk to stay at a B&B. We expected the world “quaint” to be in frequent operation over our little trip, and Norfolk did not disappoint. The B&B was quaint, the little towns were quaint, the terrifyingly narrow country lanes were quaint, even the torrential downpour was quaint.
On the way there we passed two little towns called Little Snoring and Great Snoring. Tell me, in what other country in the world would you find a town called Great Snoring? We couldn’t take the time to stop in, but from what I hear the attractions are quite the draw during summer months. In Great Snoring, watching the grass grow and the Saturday afternoon “let’s check the expiry dates on our neighbour’s dairy products” stroll draws folks from – well, at least as far away as Little Snoring. The annual Scrabble Fest is only to be outdone by Little Snoring's Elevator Music Festival and the annual Yawn-a-Thon.
Not-too-early on Saturday morning, after a hearty English breakfast fit for avid adventurers and pregnant women, we drove to the town of Holt and had a walk around. The weather alternated hourly between torrential downpour and bright sunshine, but such is life in the most complex weather system on the planet. We had popped into a market-style grocery store to check out their large selection of teas, and after much hunting, Melody pulled down a few boxes of something called raspberry leaf tea. As she was reaching up she turned to me and explained, “It’s supposed to assist in the onset of labour.” I made a mental note to stick to English Breakfast. At all costs.
Now, I’ve seen some pretty small cars in my time, especially having walked plenty of Europe’s narrow cobblestone streets. But in Holt we saw what most definitely takes the prize so far. This was one serious granny roadster. For a brief moment I wished we hadn’t gone for the Civic, but quickly realized the granny roadster wouldn’t have room for a baby seat… or a passenger seat... or a driver's seat, for that matter.
We hit the road again just as the sun vanished and it started to pour for about the 10th time. Our next destination was the Norfolk Broads. No, the Broads are not a bunch of women, they’re a series of rivers and canals lined with houses and gardens. We took a two hour boat cruise on the Broads (which began with us wishing we had a sunny spot on deck, and ending with us glad we were sheltered in the galley from the pouring rain). It really is an interesting place though. The residents obviously take great pride in their lawns and gardens. Neat how they all have little winding canals off the rivers instead of driveways.
On the Sunday, we went to a wee meeting in the morning called Reedham Hall. The address is simply, “The Footpath”, and it was about as easy to find as you can imagine ;-) On the way back to London we stopped for a few hours in Cambridge. It was nice to visit the other half of England’s brain power, after having been to Oxford last summer. Unfortunately the students were in the middle of exams, so most of the halls were closed to the public. Ah, blessed memories! Cambridge is certainly a “quaint” and lovely town.
From Cambridge it was back onwards and home to London… where the waiting game now officially begins… :)