Saturday 12th November 2016

And the day damned like an apology; late and regretful. Ashamed at revealing what a dull, grey and damp day it was to be. And it only got worse.

I had arranged to meet up with my friends Sarah and Richard in Norwich at eleven, so all I had to do is get myself there. And as they said they were going to see the Chinese State Circus in Great Yarmouth that evening, I thought maybe I should drive there and catch the train from there.

I have to have a shower, get dressed then go down to the restaurant for breakfast, with the fine views of the traffic from my table. But like the queues I was expecting in the restaurant for food, I was the only diner and Bridge Road was empty, it being a Saturday.

I have the usual fruit followed by sausages, bacon and hash browns. And after the waitress wasn't as attentive as I had expected, I did the refill of my coffee from the pot myself, no one seemed to notice.

Depsite living on the area for 30 years on and off, I was thinking about how to get to Yarmouth station, trying to see if I could figure out how the main road went once it entered Gorleston. So I was glad to leave with plenty of time, allowing for mistakes. Of course as I drove along, it all became clear to me, and so arrived at the large car park near the Minster with over an hour to spare. But arriving at the station, I saw that there was a train due to leave soon, and another single car 153 arrived, looking so tiny against the huge sweeping platforms of the station.

I thought the train would be packed, but it was sparsely populated. I have a seat to myself, and enjoy the trip back into Norwich, looking at the rolling fields and marshes.

Now, the day before I had tried to buy a notebook and pen; not hard you would think, but the two corner stores near to the hotel had neither. So, once on the station I bought both and sat down in the 90 minutes I had to write down what I had done in the previous two days.

People came and went, people in fancy dress, clearly some were farmers on the day out being dragged shopping by their wives. I watched them all, and smiled.

At half ten I went out the front of the station to wait for my friends. The rain had now turned heavier and fell so hard it was like a mist. Not a day for photography, but then it should be OK inside, even if the light was going to be flat.

They arrived at eleven, and we drove through the city, heading north out towards Aylesham as we were going to a large country house, Blickling Hall.

The house was yet to open, so we went for a coffee in the shop, catching up on news.

The Hall is fine, but I have a real problem with what was once the residence of a very rich family, or series of rich families, including the Bolyens. All this luxury when their tenants would be eating mud, or worse, makes me angry just thinking about it. But houses like these do have fine works of art and architecture, so it is also a pleasure to go as well, especially like here were there is something as fine as the plastered Long Gallery.

We go round, I take shots, all the while outside the rain still falls as hard as ever.

We visit the church next door, really the estate church, but it has been heavily Victorianised, but also has some fine brasses to admire.

We go into Aylesham to find a pub in which to have lunch. The very un-PC Black Boy were hosting a wedding, so had no free tables. But we go over the road to the downmarket Unicorn, and we all order cheese toasties, which came nice and hot, and with a soundtrack of Highway to Hell and a pint of Woodforde's it was a good lunch.

THe light was now fading, so my friends dropped my back off at the station, I saw a train to Yarmouth was just leaving, I rush onto the platform to see it pulling out. And I had a 65 minute wait for the next one. Oh well, I write some more, then am able to board to quiet train, and can close my eyes until a pair of teens got on and spent the whole time until the train left, and through the journey trying to make each other laugh. I guess we were all young once and thought ourselves very funny. But it clearly wan't.

It was dark by the time the train left at twenty to five, so I closed my eyes and had to listen to the youths larking about, acting trying to make themselves older than they were. I was glad to get off at Yarmouth, walk to the car park and leave the town along deserted rain-soaked streets back to the by-pass and then down the A12 to Oulton Broad.

I find myself diverted by You've Been Framed, and so lay on the bed watching that until seven, when it was time to go to the reunion in the pub next door.

Only seven of us turned up, but it was good to meet up and catch up. The pub had an unusual mix of clientele; either bright young things all dressed up to the nines, or people like us in their 50s, graying and going soft round the middle.

It is hot crowded, so after a couple of hours we walk the other side of the locks to the Lady of the Lake, where there was an altogether mix of people; mostly women in their 20s, with alabaster skin, with lace tops on revealing their bras, out of which they were overflowing. And all had purple make up on. It felt odd if I'm honest. But I know no better, and it being so many years since we did the socialising thing after ten at night.

I bought the last round then bailed; I had a long drive in the morning, so walked to the hotel, lay on the bed channel-flicking. As you do.