Wild horses

Household chores began early, culminating in a quick shop for car snacks before Marion arrived and we headed North.  Our first stop was at Bressingham Hall. It wasn't, the garden next door, where we were meant to stop and we quickly retraced our route to leave. We could hear music from the hall as we explored our intended location and it added to the joy we felt as we wandered.  The scent from a white azalea tumbling beside a flint bridge, yellow butterflies, a handkerchief tree and little bags of soap hanging everywhere to deter deer were just  some of the highlights.  We had many laughs too. The visitors book had some comments in it which we decided could only have been written on a truly dismal day or by someone who could suck the joy from anything.  I found the bird poo stuck to Marion's feet and lower legs way more funny than she did though but we both agreed that walking barefoot was delightful
; even as we ouched across the sharp gravel we felt alive.
We drove along the coastal path hoping for a sunset swim and chips on the beach but despite a paddle in the sea at Cromer it wasn't to be. Neither was the burger in a field that Marion hoped to introduce me to as an hour wait was just too long today.  We did squeeze in pitstops for icecream, tea, cake and shopping and at Alby crafts we spoke to an artist who was a little obsessed with collectable dolls before ending our day sharing a  bottle of wine and ordering burgers in the Aviator pub, Sculthorpe instead. A good ending.