Apologies for my absence – I’ve been holidaying to the far north east east. No no, not Siberia, camping by the sea in the far north east of Suffolk. And financial squeeze or not, I wonder why anyone ever goes anywhere else. Our county is an absolute delight:
Lets face it, who needs to go to the Med when the North Sea is so lovely and swimmable – and has such great waves to boot?
And who needs the Sistine chapel ceiling when you have such things as the glories of the Wenhaston Doom close to hand? If you’ve not seen it, its a large wooden representation of the Saved and Damned – saved in its turn from Henry VIII’s reformers by a coat of whitewash (and then by a shower of rain from a bonfire 400 years later. Yes really. It was lying in the church grounds, slated for destruction, when a rainstorm finally washed that whitewash off and they saw the Doom for the first time in centuries)
And not even the Taj Mahal, or the Great Pyramid at Giza can give you such a flavour of the person it commemorates as does this wonderfully funny epitaph at Bramfield. I want one too!
For those who like more active sports, in Suffolk there’s always that great (non-blood) sport of crabbing. Do you know it? I swear there are crabs all over the county who have to book into fat farms when the holiday season is over, they get so bloated by meals of bacon, chicken and the like.
In the evening there are such delights as the Moving Pictures. This Picture Palace at Southwold seats 70 people now that they’ve built a Royal Box – and it has a uniformed commissionaire and an organ that rises from the floor too.
Though there are plenty of other amusements for those who prefer to remain outdoors.
And at the end of a well-spent day, can the Manhattan skyline possibly beat this?
I’ve come home brown, relaxed and happy. I’ve walked or cycled most of the time. I’ve wasted no time in traffic jams. I’ve spent no time at airports. But I have spent every penny of my holiday fund in Suffolk.