Well we have just got back from a week’s holiday in Norfolk. We stayed in a small cottage a few miles from Kings Lynn. The cottage was a grade 2 listed building very pretty, clean and tidy. You used the back door only and the front door had a huge lock on it with a key that must have been about 10 inches long. One thing was strange about it though, it had no feel to it, no vibes. It felt like a new build. For an old building it felt like it had never been lived in, or maybe even worse it had a slightly dead feel to it. I found it very hard to pray in any room, very soon my thoughts were swept away and I found myself thinking about something entirely different and completely forgetting what my first intentions had been which was to have a chat with God. Most odd.
The first night under the door to the living room came the first black beetle, then another and another, very soon we had a full set of John, Paul, George and Ringo. Two got put out of the back door by me and two found the bottom of hubby’s shoe. The next night came the beetle’s tribute band and thereafter every tribute band that existed on a nightly basis. They especially enjoyed hiding in my g’daughters shoe, LOL!!
Why is it though we find a cottage out in the middle of nowhere but it always seems to end up beingon a busy or noisy road? The road we were on was a very long one and at one end (although we never went that way) was a quarry. It seems that the lorries for the quarry started out on the move at 4.15am or that was the earliest they were heard. Now this never bothered me or woke me up but it did some of the family as there was not only the noise of them rumbling by but the cottage sometimes shook as well. We was also in the area for the RAF training jets which one morning screamed low overhead making daughter jump out of bed come flying down the stairs yelling ‘what on earth was that’, thinking maybe world war 3 had started. Everyday we would see them flying somewhere we went but never as low as that morning.
West Norfolk itself was nice and there was plenty to do for adults but not so much for kids especially if the weather was wet. We managed to dodge the rain though and the weather was warm even when it wasn’t sunny and the kids enjoyed themselves.
Sex and violence – those of a more sensitive nature look away.
One day we went to a deer and animal farm. There was not a lot there, one llama, sheep, goats, that sort of thing. They did a 45 minuet deer safari though which we went on with two old farmers, one giving a talk, one driving, with lovely Norfolk accents which you don’t hear much nowadays. It reminded me of my childhood on holiday at my Nan and G’dad’s in EastNorfolk. Anyway back to the story.
At the end of the safari as we were stopping there was this big old rat running around the yard. Now this rat had learned a few lessons and slunk around the outskirts of the bushes and mostly kept well hidden. But as we sat in the orchard next to the yard having a drink at the picnic benches just outside the gift shop and tearoom we could see it skulking around. But not so the baby rat. There he was meandering backwards and forwards across the orchard without a care in the world. Once he nearly got caught by a dog that thankfully for him was on a lead. Then a lad working there picking up apples in a sack took a few swings at him with the sack but missed every time. I rather think that if we, the visitors, hadn’t been there he wouldn’t have missed! But also in this orchard were some Jackdaws pecking away at the crumbs etc.
Now Ratty being young and not streetwise walked within 6 inches of Jackie’s nose, or in this case beak. Jackie lunged at Ratty pecking him on the back and tossing him a few inches in the air. Did Ratty run away? No! He turned and stood back on his hind legs and went for Jackie. As he strolled away Jackie went for him again, and again Ratty reared and attacked back. Back and forth this went, with us and others laughing and cheering them both on as only a baying crowd at a prize fight can. Who won? Jackie backed off first and went back slightly shamefaced to pecking the ground once again and Ratty with a last backward glare strolled through the fence into the Shetland pony’s paddock.
Now for the sex!!
In the orchard were a few brown hens, again pecking away at the crumbs left by us humans. One was particularly friendly and kept coming under our bench and walking around our feet. Well there she was just but a few feet way with her back to us pecking happily when suddenly we heard in the distance ‘cookadoodledoo’ (or something similar). Then head down and neckstraight out in front, running at full pelt came a small white with black spots cockerel. He stopped just by Henny and with barely a cursory howdydoody jumped on her back. Henny raised her tail feathers. It was all over in seconds. Ever the lady she just shook herself and carried on eating. He stood and preened himself and after another, this time, ‘congratulatory’ cookadoodledoo went on to eye up the other hens before having a rest.
We learned later that this wasn’t a farm cockerel but he had turned up a fewdays earlier. Nuff said. This wasn’t the only ‘farm antics’ that had been observed either. I’ll refrain from mentioning the pigeons and the goats!!
Ah, the things that amuses one on holiday.
Jenny <><
