Stiff Walk to Stiffkey

Do you remember, Simon, that

stiff walk to Stiffkey? The

promise of a pub lunch

stiffened our stride and we made

good time pounding the coastal path, the

North Sea bristling to our right and

people stepping aside before our purpose:

good beer, an open fire, basic food,

stories of the infamous Vicar, more beer….

 

Well the pub was closed and the

tightness of opening times then meant a

stiffer walk back to Blakeney, our

thirst by then unquenchable, my mind

full of unanswered questions about a

man so admired yet so traduced, who

fell through fallen women into the

jaws of a discontented lion.

 

There was only time for one and

no food, but I knew there wasn’t enough

beer in Christendom to riddle me

all those riddles.

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Comments

  • Harper Eliot  On February 24, 2013 at 3:18 pm

    This is gorgeous. And so very English! in a very comforting way.

    • fridayam  On February 24, 2013 at 4:00 pm

      Thank you:) Yes, we English like the simple pleasures, but the complex pleasures are only hidden;) x

  • latestarterchronicles  On March 1, 2013 at 1:19 pm

    My favourite area of Norfolk. This has made me want to return. Like today!

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