After a big night in Newcastle and having a fair old trip for the day, down to first Lincoln and then Northern Norfolk, we got in the car and gave each other that look, the one that says
‘Well if we can’t have McDonalds (due to a pact made before starting not to eat it), then Burger King it is!!!’
A Whoppper was woofed down each at the first road stop we could find and then it was express to Lincoln. Again lucky with the cursed British weather, it continually pissed down the entire way to Lincoln, only letting up as we entered the car park and were breathtaken by the towering Lincoln Cathedral that ostentatiously dominated the old town’s skyline. This at one time was apparently the highest building in the world for 238 years through the Middle Ages
Exploring the old town on foot you could be forgiven for imagining days of olde and how it once was, with the square outside the Cathedral walls full of Saturday drinkers at pubs like ‘The Magna Carta’, and a lone busker providing the entertainment (guess mankind hasn’t evolved THAT much). The Cathedral’s main feature is by far and away the external façade, with the interior a bit hmmmm and much like many other interiors. Strolling further into the town we are confronted with a small, yet hungover mind you, dilemma. Standing at the top of Steep Hill we needed to walk down it to visit more old stuff (Jew’s House, now a restaurant). This meant we’d then have to walk back up it. Sarah flagged it and stayed up top whilst Matt took the steep gradient to delve further into the history of Lincoln. Wearing thongs/flip flops//jandals was not a wise choice. Requisite photos taken the trudge back up wasn’t that bad or so he told Sarah (it sucked).
Back in the car and on to North Norfolk. We didn’t arrive until gone 10:30pm and we would advise anyone making this trip down from Newcastle to do the sightseeing the night before and then get on the road early the next morning. A stop at The Ship Inn in Fosdyke for a dinner of steak for Matt and crab cakes for Sarah with a warming sunset to end the day.
Finally rocking up to Deepdale Farm we quickly set up camp and Matt had the magnificent idea of blowing up the mattress whilst it was still firmly lodged in the car. Needless to say, he slept on the floor that night. Yanking out a fully blown up mattress doesn’t make the job any easier on the air trying to stay inside it anymore. That night a God almighty storm broke out and in the middle of the night we were awoken by the brightest cornea piercing lightning (through eye masks) followed by an earth trembling, bone rattling, shit your pants thunderous clap. Matt’s jumped up with a
quickly racking his brain as to the nearest seaworthy vessel available convinced that the next episode of Noah’s Ark was surely nigh. The panic lasted all of 5 seconds as the beckoning of sleep heavily prevailed. Up and at ‘em again in the morning over to Wells-next-to-the-Sea, actually Wells-nowhere-near-the-bastard-sea! We decided to walk to the beach to ‘dip our feet’ in, soon to the realisation that it was low tide and at least a 20-30min walk to the water’s edge (this is a hazard at a guess considering we couldn’t even see the water from our vantage point on the dunes). So we ditched it.
Next stop along the coast was the small, yet spread out village of Cley. This being one of the more popular destinations it does get busy therefore our early arrival was best. We stopped off at Cookes of Cley Tea house, and bought smoked shrimp (the size of large prawns) and dressed crab from The Cley Smokehouse. Another noteworthy landmark is the Cley Windmill, now a B&B, which makes for a great photo when you walk out to the beach side of it and look back over the grass fields leading up to it.
Cromer became the next stop as we both need a caffeine hit. Sitting in the Bella Vista Sarah and I enjoyed our coffee, great by the way, at a window presenting a view of the pier, though nothing too impressive we enjoyed it all the same. Cromer is known for their fish and chips though after having the best ones in the UK in 8 years we passed them up in fear of disappointment. Visiting another coastal town Aldeburgh has a shingle beach and a small town where again fish n chips seems to be the draw for tourists. Didn’t spend long here though came as it was recommended click here if you want to know more.
Leaving Aldeburgh we headed to Bury St. Edmonds in search of supposedly the smallest pub in Britain called The Nutshell. Upon entering there were 4 other and with us 2 and the barman we pretty much had a full house. We enjoyed an Abbotts Ale, chatted with the friendly locals along with the two guys from Michigan. This being our last destination on the UK road trips we now had the drive back to Heathrow to drop off the car and take up residence just of Portobello Road in Notting Hill.