p.p.p.l

Two new young orphans to be taken into the bosom of the Pilea Peperomioides Protection League.

Happisburgh

Spent a few nights in Happisburgh (pronounced haze-bruh or happy-berg depending on whether you're a local or me). Very fine.



We found a splendid campsite atop a cliff - a little more of it's land tumbles into the sea each year. It was a really nice mix of folk: families, OAPs in caravans and a group of girls from Great Yarmouth who for some reason got all sloppy over Jack and hung around outside the tent pretending to look at the sea but really craning to look in our door. I asserted myself by urinating in a circle all around the tent as they looked on, impressed.

My folks have had this tent for yonks - we used to live in it over summer and as a result it is now a bit rubbish. The door gapes open because there's a vital pole missing and the ground sheet went long ago. Combine this with a general slap-dash approach to camping and what do you get . . .

 . . . A bike light tied up with a pair of headphones to see by. It cast a rather ethereal light though.
Luckily one boot fair later we were fairly well equipped.

Jack made this very beautiful art installation from our finds and we sat on the cliff edge to eat our supper.

We looked out over the beach where a group of children were chanting 'Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary' as a middle aged man put his life at risk by climbing the sea defenses amongst the thrashing waves.

Then to the pub where we found the best cigarette machine:

disguised as a house, complete with cotton wool smoke in the chimney and pictures of regulars at the windows.

When we walked out in the morning we noticed this at the back of the pub - different nets and flowers in every window. I bloody love it.

We took a trip up the lighthouse.

Stonking. Pictured is our guide who Jack wooed with his geography skills, general Oxfordshire manners and inquisitiveness so we ended up with our own private tour. In short - Jack was a dirty suck-up.

phwoar.

I liked the wind vane with the internal dial.

Then another fete and the obligatory jars of home-made jam that come along with it. This game had a queue of ten little boys wanting a go - hitting a thing with a hammer and seeing a frog fly through the air what more could a young male ask for.

I found my dream house, symmetrical and beautiful. And it was opposite the best tea rooms ever:

It was just a semi-detached house with a very affable gent serving home made cakes and tea in a variety of novelty tea pots. You could sit in the conservatory on a mix of office furniture or in the garden.

The garden I suspect may have been landscaped by Miss Penelope Frogmorton of Bognor. But I'm yet to have it verified.

Unfortunately we didn't have the funds for a Go For It Hot Chocolate this time around. Seems a good reason to go back. I may also steal the 'go for it' tag to apply to some of my own wares.

Where I've been.

Firstly I had a small holiday in - Essex.

Dad waved us off and Jack promptly bumped the car into his (dad's) parked van . . . twice. What fun.

Then we wafted on down to Mersea Island.

Admired the extent to which boat living can be taken.

These enormous boats were moored in tiny inlets that you could hardly see amongst the thick grasses.

With paths made of oyster shells leading to their moorings, beautiful. Then we headed to The Company Shed, a supreme eatery. You're served just fish and seafood, you bring your own bread, drinks and anything else you require.

mmm . . . pink prawn against blue shirt.

Here's our leftovers. There wasn't much left over, and we ordered three times. Bloat.

Afterwards we took a snoop out back and saw where it had all been prepared. Impressive amounts of steaming crabs laying around.



There were a father and son duo working away at sorting oysters in this shed. To the tune of Katy Perry's 'I kissed a girl and I liked it'.

Then we hopped to Walberswick.

And I had a shandy in the beach hut and a swim in the sea.

Which brought my holiday hair along nicely.

Then to the village fete where I bought Jack this very fine picture of a boat.

And I bought myself a friendship bracelet from these two enterprising young ladies.

Then it rained.

matches and cats.

Last week I bought some very fine matchbox labels from a very fine friend. And ages ago I bought a whole rainforests-worth of pay-slip envelopes. So I will combine the two to make tiny cards in tiny brown envelopes. I like the randomness of the words and matching them up to card giving occasions is a nice challenge.


























 
I've had a very catty morning this morning. When I popped out of my hatch, bright and breezy I noticed someone had dug a large hole in my tomato plants . . . very odd. And then I noticed a pile of pale poo cascading down the inside of an empty plant pot nearby. Bloody cats! What happened? It dug a hole especially then saw the pot and couldn't help itself? Dirty little shitbag. It even looked as if it had done a few little wipes on the rim. I was furious!
Then when I popped into Beans I met her new kitten that a friend found abandoned by a bin. Bah! Bloody cats! Being all big-eyed and vulnerable. What a confusing bunch.