Saturday 27th September 2014

Friday.

Norfolk.

I awake after a good night's sleep to see dawn's pale light creeping round the edge of the curtains, meaning it was almost time to get up. I switch on the radio only to find Radio 5 full of little else other than golf. Now, I like a little golf from time to time, but on the radio? And so 44 hours over the whole weekend? I don't think so. So, I switch to Radio 4 to get some non-golf news before boiling the kettle for a pot of tea and then a shower. I explore the village before breakfast, which I had been asked to be in the house at eight to eat, having ordered my English the night before.

b Like a lot of villages, Hindolveston has no shop nor pub, but it is just a short drive to bigger places where supplies can be sought. So, the village is quiet, except for those heading to work in their cars, so I walk to the small Victorian parish church, take a couple of shots and head back to the farm where it was five to breakfast.

I am joined in the breakfast room by a long haired cat and a deaf border collie called Peg. She waits quietly in the hope that I will give her something from my plate. She got half the second sausage, which she wolfed down in one movement. Satisfied I had no food left, she wandered off, and I left to pack and load the car.

I was in Norfolk to visit a Flickr contact, Mike, who is a fantastic wildlife photographer, and has a river at the bottom of his garden where, on occasion, kingfishers can be seen and photographed. And as I had never seen a kingfisher, this could be a chance. So, I drive over to Great Ryburgh, find his house thanks to the sat nav, and he is waiting. We end up talking for over three hours about this and that, before I said shall we try to see a kingfisher.

So, Mike gets out is portable two seater hide and we walk down to the river, carrying our gear. He sets it up, lets me borrow his lens and tripod, and so we are set. I said we'd give it an hour, because, in truth, I am not a hard core wildlife photographer. So, we sit and wait. And talk. And wait. And talk.

The hour passes with no kingfisher seen, not even a hint, so we pack up, walk back to the house, have one last cuppa before I set off for Kent and home.

At the end of Mike's street, there was a fine round-towered church, St Andrew, so I stop there to look, and find it is glorious inside and was well worth the stop. I take shots with the wide angle, and then fetch my 50mm too as the church is so good.



OK then, let get it done. I program home into the sat nat, and I set off for Swaffham and the road south. It was wonderfully quiet, but I knew it would change, and I knew where it would change. Brandon would be one place, and then there would be the motorway, the M25. Swaffham was busy, as it was when the kids were leaving school, and beyond there, the road was quiet again. Quiet really until I got to Brandon, which I passed through in under 5 minutes, but the queues heading north went on for a couple of miles.

At Barton Mills, where the dualling of the A11 is underway, traffic blocked the roundabout for 5 minutes, before we forced our way across and down towards Newmarket. Already the traffic was heavy, and it would mean I would be hitting the M25 at five in the evening, just about at peak rush hour. It could not be helped. In the end traffic was quite light until I got past Brentwood, and then with the matrix signs flashing, it all ground to a halt. But, we kept moving, and we got closer and closer to the bridge. I suppose it took some 45 minutes to get from the bottom of the M11 to the bridge, which for a Friday evening was not bad, and I had Simon Mayo entertaining me on the radio as I drove.

Through the tolls and into Kent, along to the M20, by which point I relaxed as it was just an hour home, so I slowed to 60 and turned the radio up, and even sang along to the Spice Girls. I will beat myself with birch twigs later.....

I arrived back in Dover just as dusk was falling at about quarter to seven, along Townwall Street, up Jubilee Way and along to St Maggies, I was home. Again.

I saw right away that the guys had been busy, most of the side of the house and all of the back had been completed, and the new estimate was for a Thursday finish. Jools put the kettle on, and I get my bags in, whilst a couple of the cats fussed around indicating they had not been fed since I was away. Situation normal. Jools ordered a Chinese, and went to pick it up, whilst I stretched out, shattered drinking a cuppa out of my pint pot.

There is no place like home.....