Friday, 22 September 2017


Saw this feller whilst aside the Med

An playful hoopoe in fact

Had  a cack day at work so pleased with an impromptu nap hand of these little battlers on the way home. Just love that pin spining and the rod hooped over (sorry, no pun intended). 17 degrees as well. Unheard of.

Thursday, 21 September 2017


Quick pit stop at Oxburgh Hall. Rather quaint and low key I  thought. Lovely none the less.

And there were denizens of the shallows too. It's always rudd in these sort of ornamental settings though the faithful retainers spoke of snaggle toothed pike as well.

Harvest of the ugly fruit in the walled garden.

Go on then, ha-ha.

I dont  know about ox-eyed, kale-eyed more like. The Metropolitan Elite rave about kale. It's vile however you dress it up.

Wednesday, 20 September 2017

Tuesday, 19 September 2017

Al fresco

Mid Bureboi's mega platter went down well on Saturday and it is only fair I provide more food porn from our Med escape.

Eldest  Bureboi was not impressed with his first sight of the strip like connurbation of Platja de Muro but the fare was quite local in character given the abundance of Brits and Germans.

Lovely plate of big sardines for George the Hadrasaur and some snails and rabbit for me.

There was a snail farm down the road from us. And pick your own outside the villa gates.

Driver blues meant a lot of this for me. Loved all the table staffs deft flick and stashing of the resealable cap for next fill up from the tap.

They do love an olive and the smell of this stall was gorgeous

George the Hadrasaur and Eldest Bureboi did have a few of these every lunchtime.

I made do with the odd perky time snifter and cheap whiskey at night. 3 and 5 euro respectively. We live life big.

The most disappointing fare came after  a straight line 40k and on the ground 65k hairpin  grind up to Valdemossa, once home of Chopin and George Sands. Great scenery I was told. I didn't see much of it. Thank god for automatic transmission. We came back the straight way...

The potatoes were well seasoned I suppose.

Sometimes a villa lunch is were it is at. George the Hadrasaur went a bit green but the rest of us wolfed them down. 11 euro well spent I'd say.

Listen up captive audience Vaddemossaa wastrels, this Menu del Dia was 30 euro less and 10 times better. And at the edge of the  flat, fertile  windmill studded Interior. Understated elegance wins every time.

 Not a bad fish counter for a supermarket.



Slow food and 0 food miles they said. Didn't have the heart to tell the little 'us where Daddy's leg of lamb came from....

The offending limb of lamb. Meat is murder. Yummy.

I could walk here so much beer was drunk. It is a left handed glass and I am right handed.

Faffed about with cucumber on a bit of slate


Marrow bone and the very local (next door) lamb's innards. Flipping gorgeous

Homeward bound.

Sunday, 17 September 2017

Hunting cabbages

Off up to the home of steel yesterday to deliver a few bits and bobs to Mid Bureboy who is following up his First from Loughborough with a year learning to teach in Sheffield. Dismal rain for much of the journey and the closest I've ever come to the end of a rainbow.

One of the joys of the A17 is an unexpected collection of military hardware, not far from Sutton Bridge. Pride of place goes to this fine Hawker Siddeley Hunter.  Make a change from the miles and miles of cabbages and one hill that  does have a 2 mile crawler lane southbound..

An impressive city is Sheffield.

And an impressive platter for Mid Bureboy and I. He has progressed from plain pasta and dry ( no butter) sandwiches. And he ate most of that.

Interesting version of  a blue plaque on the defunct Black Swan declaring the debut Clash line up.

His digs (to the left) are right on the River Don though he dosen't fish.

I do and it was a bit of  a grueller  today at Horstead, even for the chap weilding a J W Young pin that cost at least 10 times more than my Advanta Ikon.  Perhaps a little too clear? This little feller did brighten up my stolen hour and a half though.

Tuesday, 12 September 2017

Back in blighty

You may have to suffer my drivel about time in sonny climes another day. 

Meanwhile back in Blighty I have just about got the sand out of everywhere. Nice to see the Sheringham Shoals wind farm as we lost height and speed inbound to Naarich. Hope that is not chem trail vapour being dispersed...

Hunny has already shut down for the winter it seems. Just the grey pound to keep the local businesses afloat until the summer now.

A lot of the beaches between Yarco and Cromer always seem half empty, which is good cos that's the we like it, we like it,we  like it. Overstrand  on Saturday was empty . Except for the wreck of hundreds of big, fat Cromer crabs and whelks.

Our local mill is getting the gentrification treatment. The bonus is some serious canal restoration. Have yet to fish it properly but really ought to.

Finally got the rods out on Sunday and sidetracked myself with plenty of small roach on the blue lagoon but the river kept calling, as did the looming grey. I simply had to get some hemp in and though the trot was short, and in deep water enough hemp and caster got down to keep the dace an gudgeon feeding. Such wiry fish dace. I got soaked but really enjoyed it. Most of the stretch is still bank to bank thick weed so I hope Storm Aileen dumps half the Atlantic and starts to loosen it up. Two different sixes reported last week, weed so thick must have been misidentified  grassies....

Stunning chublet must have eaten half the casters. Gob shite.

And the last fish of the evening left me thinking of lobs and paternostered gudgeon. Always well marked on this river.