There were no waterproofs to be seen. Normally we come prepared with waders and waterproof trousers, but on a wild and rainy beach, we hadn't even a cag-in-a-bag.
Therefore, we got the wheelie bin liners out. And MAN, they ain't half snuggy. (And fantastically fashionable.)
A soggy Gran and cuz
Splendid.
Overjoyed with placcy bags
The beach we wuz skedaddlin' across is the beach of my childhood and all-round dream-fest - a tiny village tucked on the North-Norfolk coast, called Overstrand.
19 summers of happy memories
Overriding childhood memories of this place: scabby knees, car boot sales, waterbombs, our old black labrador, Twisters (as in ice-cream rather than natural disasters), dancing down the Cromer pier for 50p, bright yellow tablecloths, catching crabs, secret breakfasts at the Cliff Top Caf, and being an all-round happy chappy.
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