This will all seem incredibly self-indulgent (so, what's new) but it's hot and I thought you'd all like to see where I went yesterday. Eagle-eyed UE followers will probably recognise this fishing boat, because it's just about the only one left on the beach at Aldeburgh in Suffolk. I've been coming here since 1968 when I got both Benjamin Britten and Peter Pears to write their names on a postcard of Aldeburgh, and at the same time managed to get Mr.Britten to bang his head so violently on the boot of his white Alvis drophead that a load of crotchets and quavers fell to the ground outside the White Lion Hotel. The great thing about this little coastal town is that it hasn't really changed all that much in the intervening forty two years. Quite apart from the excellent fish 'n' chips down at the Slaughden end, cool pints of Adnams in the Cross Keys and music snobs swatting flies with the Telegraph, you can still buy fish straight out of a tarred hut on the shingle. This boat, Silver Harvest, caught a hundred lobsters at the weekend, and I took one of them home with me, together with some delicious green samphire. And I want to go back for more NOW.
Halifax, West Yorkshire
2 days ago
4 comments:
Oh Suffolk, how I miss you! These sort of posts make me hanker for those vast, arching skies and the Lord Nelson at Southwold, probably the finest pub outside of that Lundun.
All very odd, my Suffolk visit. I had a phone call this morning from a lady who tells me her husband (my sponsor on Built for Britain) thinks he saw me on the beach. Obviously took fright and drove off as quickly as he could, thinking he'd seen Peter Grimes.
Have I been there with you Pete? It looks very familiar from many years ago...
You have indeed Lou Lou. Being used to palm-fringed idylls you turned to me on the shingle and said "Ok. But where's the beach?".
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