As is the way with me, a lot of the shots I would like to post, and places I visited are under embargo thanks to GWUK. But for those of you who partake in that group, some of how I describe the places as yet unguessed might help you. Otherwise, it might not.
I woke at just before six, not sure of the time as I had no clock. But I lay there, thought I could hear some traffic and life outside, so thought it must be near to getting up time. I check, and it is five past six. I am in no hurry, so put the TV to a radio station to check up on all the latest news and sports headlines. The once it started to repeat itself, I switched to BBC 6 and chilled out to the sound of the good music.
At seven I get up and have a shower and once out and drying myself off, I can smell bacon cooking rising up from the kitchen below. Yes, I believe I could do with a good breakfast. Downstairs I have some cereal and the fry up, holding the eggs as I did not want to have to dash. Topped off with toast and coffee, it is a great way to start the day.
By eight I am ready to go, and did not feel like kicking my heels in my room for an hour or so. So I call my friend to say I walk into the city and meet them at the Catholic Cathedral near to where they live. As soon as I go outside, I can feel drops of rain on my face, and by the time I am at the station it is falling steadily. I pack the camera away, and walk on to the Riverside development, where the names of most of the bars and eateries have changed, lets hope they do better than the previous incarnations.
Over the Novi Sad bridge into King Street, past Dragon Hall and numerous wonderful old buildings and yet more churches. At one point Norwich had 52 of them, and 365 pubs! so, something for everyone.I reach the cathedral, and with the rain falling very hard and me soaked to the skin, I take shelter in the porch and wait.
Sarah and Richard arrive in their car, thus saving me from getting any damper at least. Are we in the mood for some serious churching? I believe we are.
We take a long drive along winding lanes and through small villages to our first church, a magnificent building, standing almost alone at the edge of a field. Salle is a wonderful church, some say the best in Norfolk. Tat I don't know, but it is a grand church, filled with monuments. We go about our business, snapping away. There are painted panels, chapes above doorways, monuments and a stunning font cover, and with it's suspension arm still in place. 
After visiting another church, we make our way to Booton. I am told that this is something special, after the delights already seen that morning, it would have to be. And indeed it was. Booton church seems to stand alone with no other buildings around, just beside a quiet lane. It is a barking mad Gothic Victorian church, almost Pugin-esque in its perfection, no expense had been spared to its gothicness. It has wonderful glass, and a small army of carved wooden angels hanging from the ceiling.
It is also a very large church, well for a village with no houses visible. Only problem for the photographer weas the single spotlight illuminating the interior, casting strong shadows in some parts, bleaching other out elsewhere. But we all try to get our shots, which one hopes will come out well. 
Just before lunch we drive half an hour to the next church, another large church in a very rural setting. Elsing was once thought to be dying as the 20th century encroached, but with the coming of the affordable motor car, it got a second wind, and even the pub is going strong. And that is beside the entrance to the churchyard, like in all well thought out villages.We had come here to see an ancient brass, depicting a 14th century Knight, but it has been places in a protective case and a viewing must be arranged in advance. But there is a copy leaning against one of the walls, which shows detail better than the original.
Back outside we ponder the village pub, and decide to try there for lunch. Inside it is very welcoming, with a roaring fire and friendly landlady who is more than happy to arrange food. I have three bean chilli, which has many more than that, and is spicy enough to tingle the tongue. And the Woodforde's beer is splendid. I have a second pint to make sure, as I wasn't driving.
We do more churches in the afternoon, until three, when the light began to fade: so we drive back to Norwich where I am plied with coffee and scones, which usually means I will agree with anything they suggest.
Dusk is falling when I take my leave, volunteering to walk back into the city rather than them give me a lift through the thick traffic. The beer festival is open again, but I decide to try somewhere else. Overlooking the market is the Sir Garnet Woolsey, a fine old pub, named after a Victorian politician who railed against building the Channel Tunnel left those pesky French might sneak an attack through it. I won't hold that against him, especially as they have Adnam's Old on draft, which was rather good I have to say. I stay for two, and people watch. One couple, she a slim young lady, and he a cigar smoking middle aged gentleman, seemed to be having a fine time, supping pints of lager outside. She must have been cold in that mini skirt though. I am tempted to stay for the second thanks to the in pub hifi pumping out old Tom Tom Club and Donna Summer tunes, which seemed very good at that moment.
I walk back via The Murderer's, another pub, and another pub having a beer festival. I sit down to read some more, then the TV is put on so some of the others could watch the Liverpool game. I stay long enough to see Liverpool score what turned out to be the winner before draining my glass and walking out.
Down Rose Lane, I find myself drawn into KFC for a set meal. Its rubbish food, but at that point I really didn't care.
Back in my hotel room I listen to more football, that Liverpool game, but fall asleep just before the end of game, waking up at midnight in time to switch the TV off and go back to sleep.
As you do.
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