Norwich Cathedral

Norwich Cathedral, East End

Up with lark, even though I could have kipped for England. A fair few number of things done, visited, accomplished today.

First, over to the lake at Whitlingham adjacent to the campsite for a wake-me-up gander, into Norwich for brekky (sausage sarnie, white bread, brown sauce), and a traipse around town. It was during the traipsing that Cath was on the phone to various B&Bs she had the good sense to write down in her notebook before setting off. The common answer was 'Sorry we're full. Try this number'. So at a mid-morn coffee stop at The Britons Arms it was decided we'd check in at The Maids Head and be done with it. That decision will rank as one of the finest in living memory.

From the hotel it was only a stone's throw to the cathedral.

That afternoon we set off for the north Norfolk coast and worked our way west from Cley-next-the-Sea, where the Cromer and Sheringham Brass Band opened the church fete, to Wells-next-the-Sea, before calling in at the Red Lion, Stifkey for more refreshment.

Back at the hotel, we nipped next door to the Glass House for a cheap meal (the all day brunch for a fiver was the best scoff of the weekend). Though perhaps half-seven, it was heaving, and as I looked through the window on to Wensom Street, I saw taxi after taxi pull up outside conveying women. The Glass House was a mecca for hen nights. My award goes to the mile high ladies dressed as air hostesses. Red tailored jackets, matching minis, heels all the way to heaven, topped with a red 'thunderbirds' hat. Marvellous.

Late night beers at the Ribs of Beef. A great day.