Friday Night, Saturday Morning

No kitchen sink drama, or Prick Up You Ears here Buh. Though I did like A Kind of Loving on the telebox with Joanne Whalley before she got Kilmered. So, here's my stab at Friday Night, Saturday Morning. Work done, and conveniently ending on the coast road, a flint pebble throw from the Staithe at the eponymous Burnham Overy Staithe, I'd been through Chelsea near the Sea on the way, and still floods on the Green. The reason for my brief  Staithe-side  stop? An unfolding anti-cyclonic sunset, that's what. Tide making, oyster catchers peeping and Discovery Evoque's purring. Bet many holiday home owners were watching it too, hunkered down away from the prying eyes of the Curtain Twitcher Stasi Snitchers. Until their braying draws the attention of  the local plod, and getting sent back home with several 200 quid fines per Discovery and a stern talking to, at a suitable distance and through the standard blue mask. Rozzers do love a nice Bimmer to drive don't they?

I watched it unfurling in my rear view mirror as far as Blakeney where a pull-in was required to check late emails, keeping it all legal.

Scratchings and beer. Definitely a sign the weekend has begun.

Saturday morning and strictly local. Now, this is nowhere near a full English  but it was a most satisfactory start to this Saturday.

To the park with the Little Un's, and an unmistakable sign of spring springing, the ramsons are breaking through. Just a subtle garlic nose at present.