The night before the BBC news was reporting that it was mostly likely that the vote would go to the 'remain' side, although they had stressed no results were in. I couldn't be bothered to stay up and watch. That morning, I was determined not to turn the TV on. I opened my computer, and decided to go on facebook. After a few minutes my eyes strayed to the 'trending' bar, and I saw that Britain had voted to leave, the EU. After all the hype of the previous evening I was really surprised by this.
What surprised me even more though, was the vitriol, the hatred, the vile comments directed towards those who had voted out. The people behaving like toddlers stamping their feet and saying 'No!', demanding second referendums even. Whatever happened to democracy?
We had decided in view of the weather we had been having that we would use the last Friday as a day of packing up, taking our time, and we would leave on the Friday afternoon as we do when we leave Cornwall. We were near enough to home to not have to worry about a long journey. Our one consolation was that most of the country had suffered the same weather as us.
Husband said he wanted to walk to the church again, and this time go inside if possible. So we planned to walk into the village, and call in at the baker's for a sandwich for lunch. That was until we walked past the fish and chip shop. The smell was quite good. So we went to the church had a good look round, husband reminisced, and he hunted everywhere for the memorial plaque to Pocahontas. or Mrs John Rolfe of Heacham to give her her proper title.
He was unable to find the plaque, but as I wandered into a side chapel, I discovered it. Satisfied, we made our way back out of the church. As we walked along I reasoned that if we bought sandwiches, I would have to cook a meal that evening, not knowing when we would arrive home; but if we had a take away from the chip shop, then we would only need a light meal, so we joined the small queue, and came out with cod and chips for him and fish cake for me.
Back at the cottage, once we had eaten our meal, we began the packing and tidying in earnest. We had already packed most of the clothes the evening before. We loaded up the car, loaded up the bikes, I returned all the keys to their hooks, and got the spare key out of the key safe and locked up.
Soon we were on our way, calling in at the big Sainsbury's at King's Lynn, but all there were no tutus or practice ballet skirts left in Lydia's size.
I rang the owner to say that the cottage would be empty overnight, we drove along past rivers and fens, such a flat landscape, ideal for cycling, but in much better weather than we had had! The GPS refused to work, and husband took a wrong turning, which almost led us back to Kings Lynn. I dug out the map, and guided him to the correct route. Sometimes the old methods are the best.
We stopped on the way for a drink and snack, and made it home in a reasonable time. Back to an overgrown garden, but the lack of ripe fruit testament to the lack of sunshine at home too. Still husband had his wish, and now knows his memories of Norfolk are not always accurate. Distance lends enchantment.
Husband's old boarding house
|row of cottages|
|St Mary's church|