No, not the England of little Tommy, Mr Toad and the flagshaggers, an England that still exists, hanging on, whilst the shitehawks, grifters and ruthless corporations do their worst.
North Norfolk, one of my favourite places, unchanging ( almost ) and always a joy to visit.
We were bus wankers for a week and I bloody loved it. Thumbs up to Sanders coaches.
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Titchwell, Wells, the magnificent Picnic Fayre in Cley ( with entitled middle class twonk parking on double yellows, shouting work instuctions into his mobile, blocking the tiny street ), a pint with Wak at the Dun Cow in Salthouse and we even battled it out with the hoardes at West Runton and Sheringham.
A magnificent week in one of Old Blightys best spots.
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