This. Yesterday. About tea time.
... which both my regular readers will instantly recognize as Cromer East Beach, the Heart of Cromercroxness on Earth. So it was that on Saturday evening at about 4 o'clock, Mrs Crox had the altogether splendid idea of packing a picnic and heading down to the
For those who don't know, the
... it's the fourth one in from the right of the picture. Yes, that one. The blue one, with the doors open.
The younger Croxii gambolled in the surf. Heidi got to play with her good friend Oscar, who just happened to be passing.
Oscar is the Dog on the Left, rampant.
And we all appreciated the fact that even on a fine Saturday evening in summer, Cromer East Beach is practically deserted, in either ...
... direction ...
and the noisiest thing you'll hear is this.
A sea anemone. Shhhh.
Now, I have earlier opined on the efforts of travel companies to disparage Cromer to part fools from their money and have them fly off to beaches elsewhere, notwithstanding inasmuch as which the general
And then there's the Englishness of it all, dammit. On Sunday, the Friends of Crox Minima's Primary School somehow acquired the grounds of a fine Georgian house overlooking a cricket ground and put on a Dads-vs-Dads cricket match, and so it was that I was forced to tolerate sitting beneath an oak tree being fed scones with strawberries and cream and libated with cups of tea and glasses of Pimms, and compelled to listen, whether I wanted to or not, to the proverbial thwack of