Norfolk Holiday

Saturday 3rd July 2010



While on the road for the long journey, we've got used to regular toilet stop requests from Ed. For the drive to Norfolk, they provided him with an opportunity to flex himself beyond the constraints of the car seat. During long stretches on Lincolnshire A roads we took him at his word and were compelled to keep an eye out for suitable stops. Thus we saw the insides of working garages and used mechanics' industrial regulation soap; one garage owners hobbled from his adjacent house to his garage premises, only to have to tell us, with some irritation, that there’s a café place some miles down the road which we might try. We didn’t find the café but went on to use a hotel toilet (‘for patrons only’) and come out with Ed’s hands smelling of sweet mandarin and grapefruit hand gel.

Seven hours after leaving home we made it to our destination at a caravan site in Heacham, Norfolk. Jan had been at the helm of the steering wheel for this gruelling journey but she had not lost her discerning eye and immediately declared our caravan to be lacking child safety measures and the right standards of cleanliness. A furious call was put through to the reception who said that they would send around a cleaner. Shortly after this, Jan put another call through to the same people. They appeared to have decided to wrap things up an hour early and had called it a day. Not to be fobbed off, Jan marched in the direction of the reception, with a mobile phone chockfull of unflattering images of the caravan, trying to intercept our workshy frontline staff.

Back at the caravan with Ed and Sam, two cleaners had arrived. They looked like they had been briefed and their faces carried a premonition that they might be braced for a hard time. Neither of these had been the cleaner responsible for our caravan. I was stumped for a moment as I don’t do righteous indignation (‘Look at the state of this caravan! It’s disgraceful!’). The cleaners turned out to be attentive, going out of their way to get a stair gate. They were joined by the Head of Cleaning who was on her knees with the carpet shampoo cleaner. I later learnt that she had recently had a knee operation.

I went on to take Ed to the adventure playground on the site. He wanted to go on the swings but when I lead him away from one swing seat that had encrusted bird poo, he stood his ground and demanded to sit on this very swing seat. I tried to rub off off the bird poo with some wipes to no avail. When I told Jan of this, back at the caravan, she said ‘Well if its haredned why not let him sit on it?’ a statement which showed an end of day tailing off of her hygiene drive.

Sunday 4th July 2010

We started investigating our locality by visiting nearby Hunstanton. Jan decided that Sam needed a sleeping bag. We asked around the shops to enquire where these may be sold but after the suggested Azzam’s failed to stock them we abandoned this idea. We ate at the Waterside Bar for the first of what were to become very wearying chip dishes.

Later, we walked from the caravan site to the local beach. As I stepped onto the expanse of sand, away from the shields of the group of huts, I get a fine windblast of Norfolk sand. I step back into the tranquillity of the wind shelter protection before stepping out again into another vigorous splatter gun of sand particles. We decided that this is not suitable, especially for Baby Sam and turn back to the site’s pool.

At the pool, we struggled to get Ed into the pool – he is often weary after a long time away from the water. I eventually guided him into the shallow pool and have some success. Unfortunately when lowering myself in the pool I forgot to take out my mobile phone. In the water it dies a death. ‘Was that your mobile in the pool?’ called Jan before adding ‘You stupid man’.

Monday 5th July 2010

After yesterday’s failure to make it to Heacham Beach , we finally get there and find the conditions more benign. I had previously had a good feeling about it when the wind didn't blow open our caravan doors the moment they were opened. At the beach, We set up our wind shelter and settled down for all of five seconds before I trailed Ed along the grassy banks. Later he gets sand in his mouth and doesn’t appreciate it, especially when I find no smooth and easy way to remove it.

The kitchen at our bar on the caravan site had broken down and we headed out to the nearby ‘ West Norfolk ’ pub. It appeared to have a working butchers on the site. Parts of the place did indeed smell of a butchers shop but that didn’t phase the first lady to order who requested a veggie lasagna. It wasn’t a successful evening as Ed was loud and not easily placated. He didn’t have chips on his plate – big mistake. Within an hour, we left apologizing to diners who were sat nearby.

Tuesday 6th July 2010

In the morning a team of opportunist ducks showed up outside our caravan window. Perhaps they have been drawn by the smell of toast. Ed and I dropped some bread down from our windows which they devoured. Later, they came back with their mates.

We set off for Wells next to the Sea, attracted to it by its working model steam railway. First we looked for something to stop to eat. The lady and the tourist office couldn’t express a preference but while handing over a map of the town, quietly conceded that she dines herself at the Globe Inn. We were glad to have something that didn’t feature chips too prominently and Ed happily ate his breadsticks and hummus. The place, a brightly renovated pub, was pricey mind.

With our map of Wells for directions we surprised ourselves by making it to the model train station in time for one of its infrequent departures. We folded Sam’s buggy into a compartment elsewhere and sat in a cabin, its upper sides exposed. I sought to contain Ed who had a preference for sticking his head outside in the air. I suggested that the train was going at a slow enough pace that, if we fell off, we would survive with just a few bumps and bruises. This did not reassure Jan.

The scenery offered little: banks of thistles and weeds, sometimes a field of cabbage plantations to really get our pulses racing. When we arrived at Walsingham we soon decided that there was little to reason to linger (the tourist office did say that there was a route of pilgrimage) and while the same train was stationary we sought a windowed cabin for the return journey.

Back in Wells we walked back to the car park by the coast. There was a car next to us, parked within its lines but not offering much space to open our back door wide enough for a baby in a car seat. I accomplished this but not before Jan said, in a raised voice, Some People are really Thoughtless in how they Park their Cars. People’s heads turned and the passenger window in the responsible car started whirring down leaving me to elaborate on Jan’s views. I was relieved for it not to reveal fugitive killer Raoul Moat or any other broad necked, shaved headed sort who may not take criticism on the chin (‘Police have warned the public not to get involved in parking disputes with Moat after a father was shot at’). The lowered window revealed a mild mannered Dutch chap. ‘Is anything the matter?’ he asked. My wife was frustrated at the lack of space, I relayed before civilly turning down his offer to move the car.

Whilst in Wells we bought a growbag for Sam in the only colours available – pink. Any photos of him in this are obviously to be stored and shown to his girlfriends a decade plus hence.

Wednesday July 7th 2010

We visited Hunstanton again, this time to have a look at it Sea Life Centre. Ed liked touching the star fish and I enjoyed the crab display by a lad who conceded that he didn’t really like crabs. However, Ed was testy and we broke up our visit into two parts. The funfair next door was of more interest. It was quiet and one ride operator kindly let him have a second go (even if it did mean withstanding the accompanying music of what sounded like an amalgamation of ‘When the Saints go Marching In’ and Elton John’s ‘How Wonderful Life is when you’re in the world’ played on a eighties kid’s Casio keyboard).

I went for a run on the Norfolk coast in the evening and approached a scattered group of enthusiasts who had gathered to watch and film the sunset. I stopped running and joined these in viewing this impressive spectacle over the sea. There was little noise coming from anywhere – no cars or planes and of course my mobile wasn’t about to ring having died in that swimming pool. In a hectic child centered holiday, it was a nice respite to watch this splendid sight in the relative quiet.

Thursday July 8th 2010

The longer journey to Cromer entailed predicatable toilet stop requests along the way. I took Ed into a village pub and found his burgeoning interest in hand driers heightened by the presence of a Dyson Airblade.

Cromer was a reasonably pleasant, cheap and friendly place. It pleased me, after treading on some stony beaches, that the sand on the beach where we settled was relatively smooth. I bought Ed an ice cream then provided a supplementary role in catching the dropping cream from his clothes and lap. A set of rides at Cromer Kiddieland look like they go back some time – Jan thought that the Helter Skelter was the same one that she recalled from her seventies childhood. Old and rickety they may be, but they happily filled a kiddy size chunk of the afternoon.

Friday 9th July 2010

We decided to go to the pool later in the morning. The details in our Welcome pack said it was open 9 -5. When we arrived there at 11:40 we were told by a lad that the pool was closing shortly for lunch. He pointed to listed opening times on the door that confirmed this. Jan was furious that these times didn’t tally with those in our welcome pack. She yelled at the lad who went to fetch the barely older manager. When the duo of lifeguards had been duly shouted at, Jan marched into Reception Office for further denunciations. At the reception desk they conceded with raised furrowed eye brows that there was a disparity in the listed opening times. That work in progress, the complaint form, beckoned.

I took Ed away. It seemed that the young workers on the front line who are probably not paid enough were getting an earful when all the while, as is the modern way, the managers were removed from things, out of sight and out of the site. I learnt that the manager was, in fact, resting after the heady experience of attending a conference.

We returned to the pool when it opened in the afternoon. I felt that the lifeguards were eyeing us wearily, perhaps waiting for Jan to come near enough to breaking one of the many pool rules so they could blow their whistle, shout a caution and high five each other.

We attended the Site’s Entertainment Hall in the evening for our penultimate meal out on our last day. There had apparently been a revolving door of chefs all week usually departing when finding the place to be quiet and food orders rare. The guys behind the bar showed us a skeleton menu. I had vegetable lasagna which was recognizable as a pre packaged supermarket type. The main reason we had come was for the mini disco but this was at too late an hour and as a tiring Ed got tetchy, we retired early to assemble our bags for leaving tomorrow.