Wednesday 7th March 2012

And good evening from Great Yarmouth.

Yes, Great Yarmouth. Not so called because it is wonderful or anything, its just that over time two towns devolved either side of the River Yare, and the part of the town on the east bank was larger than the half on the west; so one became great and the other was lesser or little. So, Great Yarmouth sits on a spit of land as the river makes its way to the sea; it used to be a very popular seaside resort, but now is suffering like most similar towns.

And Great Yarmouth was the place of my birth. Yes, its true. At the fag end of the baby boom, with all the maternity wards full, I was born in the sanatorium right on the seafront. Dad had to cycle from Oulton Broad to Gorlestone to register my birth. There is something of a love/hate thing going on between Lowestoft and Yarmouth. We used to visit Yarmouth just once, and told ourselves we didn’t enjoy our visits either. Yarmouth was everything Lowestoft wasn’t, touristy, full of amusements and had a pleasure beach.

These days both towns have suffered from an economic downturn as a result of Thatcher’s economic revolution; factories and shipyards closed; supermarkets opened in their place. It is just the offshore industry that is just keeping Yarmouth’s head above water. And with 36 hours rain it seems that the town is about to sink back into the steely grey water of the North Sea.

Aaah yes, the rain. Lets go back to the weekend. All our plans for work in the garden and other chores; thick fog showed St Margaret’s all day Saturday and into Sunday. We headed into town to get a few things. Mainly a loaf of bread as we were out, but a few other things. And then back home. I had slept badly Friday night, and so after a twenty minute workout on the cross-trainer, I slumped on the sofa to watch the big game and try not to fall asleep. I listened to the radio, and so heard Norwich fail to score against Stoke and so lose 1-0. Saturday and Sunday night we carried on with our Harry Potter-a-thon, and that was really that for Saturday.

Sunday I had to head into the office early as I had forgotten some paperwork, back home in time to do half an hour on the cross-trainer, and then cook Sunday lunch; roast beef and all the trimmings. And then more football from the sofa, and drifting off into a light sleep from time to time.



And now I am in Norfolk; I caught an early train from Dover; changed at Stratford; headed up to Ipswich and change again onto the train to Norwich and finally onto the rickety old local train to the coast. I am here with my boss to do an audit, the final piece of my audit training. I have trained and studied, now it is my turn to be a pain in the ass.

It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it!