For the first time in what must be two years, we began the day in an early bright spell by mounting our bukes and cycling to my favourite butchers shop up the road in Ludham. There’s a pleasantly quiet back lanes route to take. There was still a biting wind. It’s a mercifully short ride and it didn’t hurt as much as I expected.
Francine had seen a sign outside the butcher proclaiming “well hung steaks”. Well, red rag to a bull. I donned my required facemask and wandered in.
“My wife sent me to get her something well hung”, I began. “At least, I think she said ‘something’; I suppose she may have said ‘someone’”.
Their well hung sirloin steaks looked just the job. Armed with steaks, old English pork sausages and smoked back bacon rashers, we reversed our back lanes route and cycled back into the headwind.
After the traditional bright start, our forecast was for an overcast but essentially dry day reaching the dizzy heights of 11°C. We set off to investigate a boardwalk at Barton Broad, which a helpful man had mentioned when we met at Alderfen. We were both pleasantly surprised when the bright spells continued through the morning and much of the afternoon.
A well organized car park with toilet facilities was situated a short walk along a lane to the boardwalk. The one piece of interesting wildlife that I spotted, an Orange Tip butterfly, may have been struggling with the chilly conditions ‘cos it settled during a dull spell, promptly closing its wings. Orange Tips don’t settle often and they aren’t given to posing, either, even when they do. We watched intently while the dark cloud made its way across the sun, causing another walking couple to wonder why we were staring intently at the hedge. Always fun. I pointed out my subject, wondering if a bright interlude might encourage it to open its wings and bask a little. Sure enough it did; this happens rarely. It’s nice to document a settle Orange Tip with its wings open but I think I prefer the side shot from an aesthetics point of view.
The boardwalk itself produced nothing, zip, nada, ”pas un chat” as they say in France.
Sunny spells continued through much of the afternoon and more shopping, for something less well hung, this time. They ceased, of course, and the sky blackened alarmingly just as I was thinking of barbecuing. I wrapped up and went for it anyway. I appeared to have no support from other like-minded lunatics.
The well hung sirloin was excellent, as were the old English pork sausages.
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