A11

The end of term couldn't come soon enough for Cath. At 2:30 it was all over.

I had persuaded Cath to try camping again. Just the two of us in my little 3-man tent. Just kit for kipping, with eating out guaranteed. Can got to choose the campsite. A 'coolcampsite' at Whitlingham Broad, a stone's throw from Norwich. Thing is, we didn't get on the move until 4:30. There were long delays to leave the M6 to join the M1/A14 and queues towards Thetford along the A11. All owing to road works, with no road work going on. Actually, queuing along the A11 is probably one of the better places to get stuck in a jam.

As time ticked on I was concerned the day might end up blipless. So somewhere along the A11 I asked Cath to hold my phone up to the window and grab what she could. It was this.

With the campsite formalities concluded, I fixed the tent and we headed straight out for Norwich centre. We were starving. Our first port of call was to be Captain America's, but arriving where we remembered it to be, we discovered it had become a tapas bar. A lousy tapas bar. After 30 years or whatever of being an American diner. So we wandered about and eventually sat down to eat at The Library. Afterwards, beers at The Adam and Eve.

Back at the tent by torch light, things went from bad to worse. First the tent was pitched on flints an inch or so under the turf. I think the sun must have baked the stones and by the evening they were returning the heat to the atmosphere. Our tent was roasting. Next, the lads on tour just across the way were intent on being heard well past two o'clock in the morning. When their lights went out a baby's lungs filled the park. And then the thunder and lightning came knocking. So by around midnight I realised there was no prospect of staying under canvas for a second night. Indeed, the thought held no pleasure for me.