Norfolk notes - 'Chav a look at that!'
Last day, and drive along the coast to Hunstanton for a last walk on the beach before the drive home really begins. Sea and marshes on right hand side of car, turnip and cabbage fields on left. The villages we pass through are lovely, typical chocolate box places that make a Cotswold hamlet look like a sink estate. If somebody is wearing Burberry on North Norfolk, you can bet it belonged to a grandparent and probably has a poachers pocket full of fowl of root vegetable. The smell is fresh air, sea breeze and woodsmoke.
Then we come to Hunstanton. Posh has crept west along the coast, and Old Hunstanton is going upmarket so quickly that it's probably giving the population nosebleeds. Hunstanton itself though is still very much the Blackpool of East Anglia.
The sun shine has brought out the tourists and a certain 'kiss me quick' sensibility pervades. The small of wood smoke is replaced with the smell of fried food and for the first time we see 'no dogs' signs on the groynes on the beach. Normal North Norfolk values are turned on their heads here as the provision for toddlers to play freely in the sand without the danger of stepping in a dog or dog mess becomes more important that letting your dog run like a crazed thing.
The beach is busy too, and everyone is enjoying the sunshine. The front is full of burger vans the way a London street is full of Starbucks franchises. One in particular is right next to a min-arcade that blasts out the same ten notes from the same pop song every two minutes. It's a wonder the burger van staff have not decided to see what a 7lb lump hammer will win them if properly applied.
It sounds like snobbery but I actually think it's just culture shock. I've spent a week on deserted beaches where dogs are allowed and their responsible owners can be seen with their little poop bags, gaily swinging them by the handle while their dreadful contends sit below the knot, like a chemical weapon version of a morning -star. Now to be surrounded by people braying into mobile phones and parking in large car parks, it's just not on.
Then we come to Hunstanton. Posh has crept west along the coast, and Old Hunstanton is going upmarket so quickly that it's probably giving the population nosebleeds. Hunstanton itself though is still very much the Blackpool of East Anglia.
The sun shine has brought out the tourists and a certain 'kiss me quick' sensibility pervades. The small of wood smoke is replaced with the smell of fried food and for the first time we see 'no dogs' signs on the groynes on the beach. Normal North Norfolk values are turned on their heads here as the provision for toddlers to play freely in the sand without the danger of stepping in a dog or dog mess becomes more important that letting your dog run like a crazed thing.
The beach is busy too, and everyone is enjoying the sunshine. The front is full of burger vans the way a London street is full of Starbucks franchises. One in particular is right next to a min-arcade that blasts out the same ten notes from the same pop song every two minutes. It's a wonder the burger van staff have not decided to see what a 7lb lump hammer will win them if properly applied.
It sounds like snobbery but I actually think it's just culture shock. I've spent a week on deserted beaches where dogs are allowed and their responsible owners can be seen with their little poop bags, gaily swinging them by the handle while their dreadful contends sit below the knot, like a chemical weapon version of a morning -star. Now to be surrounded by people braying into mobile phones and parking in large car parks, it's just not on.
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