Sandringham 5-9 Jan 18

A quick run out to recharge both us and the van was needed, so we set out for a few days to Sandringham Motorhome (and caravan) Club site, which is relatively close to home. 

There was a fair amount of space on site when we arrived, so we chose a pitch and decided to wait for the mobile fish and chip van to arrive. It was a bit chaotic - somewhat normal for Norfolk, but the fish and chips were both very good value and delicious.

Having signed up for the 1000miles in 1 year walking challenge, we set out on Saturday to log a few miles towards our total. Unfortunately there was somebody rather important in residence at Sandringham so we were unable to visit the beautiful little church, but we did enjoy a delightful little 8 miles through the woods of the Sandringham Estate and around Dersingham. In the evening I wondered if some of my earlier comments about the Royals had been overheard as a police helicopter hovered above the site for a good half an hour, playing his searchlight around the local woods - and our van! Mrs Paranoid had decided that there was a massive security/terrorist issue and we should lock everything up, turn the lights out and sit there quivering, but it turned out that they were searching for a Londoner who had gone missing.

On Sunday the weather was gorgeous. Bright blue skies, but freezing cold. The lowland rescue team walked through the site, still searching for the missing man (he eventually turned up safe and well in Snettisham).  We clocked up more miles walking to Castle Rising and explored the interesting old castle, before heading back to the nice warm van in time for tea and medals.

A thatched wriggly tin church

Castle Rising

On Monday the weather wasn't so good. We boarded the bus outside the site to Hunstanton and agreed once again that British seaside towns are best visited in the winter where the cheap garishness could be safely ignored in the gloom of a dank, cold January day. We walked along the beach for a mile or so, watching the many and varied seabirds, before heading back into Old Hunstanton for a well deserved pint. Onwards into Hunstanton-upon-Tat for a bimble around and, it has to be said, a rather tasty sausage roll at the bakers, before catching the bus back to Sandringham for a deserved rest.

Cromer 15-16 Nov 17

Apparently the drop-down bed on some Burstner motorhomes has been dropping down when it is not meant to, i.e. when driving over a bump (or similar). Having a heavy double bed drop onto one's bonce when driving along is not conducive to happy and safe motoring, therefore Burstner issued a recall to get the bed checked. We, accordingly, booked into the dealers and rather than do the journey in one hit, booked into Seacroft Motorhome (and caravan) Club site in Cromer for the night.

Although it was a cold, dank, mid-November day the site was still busy, but we were warmly welcomed by the friendly warden and soon pitched up and bimbled into Cromer. English seaside towns are always better in the winter (even Cromer) when your ears are not battered by the sound of hideous amusement arcades and your nose damaged by the awful whiff of greasy cheap burgers and ghastly candyfloss. We wandered onto the pier; don't ask me how long it is because we couldn't see the end of it in the fog, but we did say hello to the lifeboat and spent some dosh in the RNLI shop. We then retired to the pub and spent so long deciding whether or not to eat there that they stopped serving. Off round the corner to the bakers for a sausage roll to keep us going. It was bloody awful - not going back there again. Finally, we headed back to the site and had a rather nice meal in the restaurant.

The following morning it was off to Rollesby, into the dealers and a walk to the delightful Waterside Restaurant on Rollesby Broad for the best breakfast you can get anywhere. Wandering back we stopped briefly (about half an hour) for a very amusing chat with a local who was planting winter pansies in some flower beds under command of the local Women's Institute, who had obviously put the fear of God into the poor chap, bullying him into doing this community work.

Back to the dealers. The bed was fine, so off we went home. 

Rollesby Broad