Friday 28th April 2017

One of those days when the best laid plans and all that went to pot

But one thing at a time.

In theory, take Jools to work, round up the cats, do some work, pick Jools up, drive up to Norwich.

Simples.

But cats! They just know something is going on, and with one in a box, the other two either going scatty or having down a runner, it means a back up plan. In this case, call a friend to see if he would come and feed all three cats for the day and a half, then call the cattery, cancel their reservation, and by then, no time for work at all, just time to pack the car, gather the camera equipment, and go to collect Jools at twelve. That meant dropping the house key off with Gary, and with my head spinning. I had achieved nothing that morning, other than chasing cats and failing. But now the weekend could begin, and we could relax. However, in case of emergencies, I had my work phone with me, so I was contactable.

I drive along the Alkham Valley, then along the motorway before turning off for HYthe. A few seconds wait and Jools appears, we are free.

Sadly, with peak orchid season approaching, there was some stuff to snap before we left Kent, so it was a mad dash up the M20 and then the A249 to Stockbury to see the bluebells. It is hard to know when the peak will arrive, but with the poor weather the weekend before, and there being sunny intervals, I took the time to hammer up the down to the reserve, park up and rush round the path.

I know I say this every year, but the bluebell wood in spring is a thing to see. Especially at the peak moment, when just about every spike has opened, and it seems the forest floor has been flooded. But now, in dappled sunshine, it looked just wonderful. Near to your feet you could see the green of the foliage, but a few feet away, the solid panel of blue began. And all bar the narrow path between them, all was blue.

At the bottom of the site, just along the path, the Lady began. Most now are mostly open, at least on the side facing the sun. I lost count of how many there were open, or even partially. I snap some, but then, with the clock ticking, we make our way back to the car. Such a shame to not be able to spend longer here, but time was ticking.

Down the hill, into a gap into the traffic coming north from Maidstone, then on the M2 and hammer up to Dartford, where, there should be no trouble getting over the river. Or in this case, under the river. But as it turned out, the best laid plans, and all that. Traffic began to slow down a few miles from the junction, and so it took and hour to crawl onto the M25 and then to the tunnel. There was no real reason for the delay, just weight of traffic. As Jools pointed out, it was Bank HOliday, and the weather was forecasted to be decent, so better expect that.

We cross into Essex, and in heavy traffic, but with Radcliffe and Maconie playing on the radio, it was pleasant. Up the M11, into the rolling countryside of south Essex. But the traffic was very heavy, but we had time now. So I take my foot off the accelerator, and get in a line of trucks as we pass Stansted and into Cambridgeshire. We take the A11 off it, along very familiar roads. In the past, there would be long queues at Barton Mills when the good road ran out, but now the road had been dualled all the way to Norwich, should be no problems, right?

Wrong.

All the tens of millions of pounds spent have done, is move the bottlenecks elsewhere on the road. Instead of stopping at Barton Mills, there are now jams at Thetford and between Attleborough and Norwich. In fact, all the way into the city.

We had all night, but it would be nice to arrive at the hotel, check in and relax, but there was nothing we could do. We sat in the jam for half an hour, then instead of inching our way onto the by-pass, I decide to go on into Norwich to the old ring road, then go to the football ground and station where the hotel was. We still go stuck, but was quicker than fighting onto the by-pass, and in ten minutes we cruise past Carrow Road, past the sites of the old Kingsway and Clarence Harbour pubs, taking the left hand turn over the railway bridge, and there was even a space outside the hotel for us.

The owner recognised me, gave me a permit allowing us to park, and showed us to our room. It was five in the afternoon, neither of us had eaten lunch, so thoughts were very much turned to food. I thought we could both do with a leg stretch, so we took the lower road to the station, then over the Yarmouth Road and alongside Riverside Road to the Bishop Bridge. This bridge is so ancient it beggars belief, but is still in used, but closed to traffic, and on the other side is a fine looking pub, The Red Lion. We could smell the food cooking from twenty metres away.

I get a pint and half a cider for Jools, we look at the menu and order. Soon I was tucking into a fine plate of scampi and hand-cut chips, and another beer which I sent down to keep the first one company.

Having eaten and drunk, we could now carry on our perambulation, and from the Bishop Bridge, it is a short walk to the Cathedral Close, access to is via a small gate, and into an ancient world, all flint built buildings, and so quiet, it was like the modern world had melted away. The spire of the cathedral was catching the rays of the setting sun; it was a perfect end to the day. Parents were picking up their darlings who attend the Norwich School, we walk back the west end of the Cathedral, go out the gate and take the road down as I had thought of another beer, and one of my favourite pubs was just a few minutes walk away.

The Ribs of Beef sites before the bridge on Magdalen Street. As well has beer, they have a boat landing with small tables, so we could take our drinks dwon onto the river, and sit alone in the gloaming, admiring the world going by, or in the case, the lazy river flowing gently to the sea away in the east. We watched as two lads climbed into a canoe, paddles the 25 metres across the river, tied up, then went up to the bar to get drinks. It would have been earlier to walk round, but then paddling to the pub: who wouldn't want to do that?

We drink up then take our leave and walk back up the hill to the top of Prince of Wales Road, making good our way before the nightowls and other creatures of the dark come out. We already see people out on the lash, staggering either through drink or silly footwear. Some bars had yet to open, others already had queues, we bought some chocolate at a corner store, then walked back past the station to the hotel to make tea and eat the chocolate bars.

A long day over, but we were out an about, and tomorrow, there was the promise of many Norman churches for me.