Published: July 12th 2008July 12th 2008
A hard day at the office
Sun, beer and a book. Bliss...
At the interview, they said they should be able to let me know by the end of the week. The next day I had the job! We decided that despite the icky forecast, we should embark on a little jaunt somewhere to take advantage of my soon-to-be-curtailed freedom. The aforementioned employment is with a company of 10 people that imports dairy products from Germany and Poland. I'll be in charge of keeping things moving, or to give me the full title, a Supply Chain Controller. The managers have vast experience in the industry, so it should be a good opportunity to learn heaps. I'm off to Glasgow next to pick up the ropes from the incumbent, and Mon will join me for the weekend, which we plan to spend in Edinburgh.
However! I being you back to 2 days ago - we randomly decided that East England would be a good focus for our attentions. After interminable M-somenumbers, we pulled off at a propitiously located farm shop, where we bought bread and cheese for lunch. Yum! Onto Norwich - it's a pleasant city, with lots pedestrian bits. The castle looms watchfully over a town that elegantly combines stately landmarks with the
Would you hire this individual?
creations of the current "Let's make it all with glass" architecture fad.
It's a student town, but they were all gone - luridly painted clubs on a main street attested to their musical tastes. Norwich, however, is famous for its cathedral, so we dutifully trooped along to see it. This one is a goodie! It easily dwarfs any other I've seen, and it was free to get in, which convinced us to enter. Great big vaulted ceiling, tick. Huge organ, tick. They don't make them like they used to. I occasionally like to try and put myself inthe clogs of the ordinary peasant of the 1100's - the Normans have come along, done a spot of pillaging and then built something that makes your already crappy hut look like an anthill. It must have been rather otherworldly to spy Norwich's spires on the horizon. Which I suppose is the whole idea, really...
My happy reverie was rudely interrupted, however, by some old dickhead called Terry, and his wife whose name I somehow did not catch (let's call her stupid old bag) - these specimens walked around inside talking at normal volume, making utterly inane observations the likes of which call
into question the very idea of human progress. I disliked them instantly. Having considered shushing them, I resigned myself to the certainty that any reprimand would be met by a look that said 'I've been loudly making a pillock of myself for the last 50 years, and I ain't gonna stop for some whippersnapper like you!". Outside in the cloister, some people were chanting as a couple of barefoot loons made their way through a labyrinth. The latter symbolised the journey through life, as I read on the helpful sign. Not sure where this is mentioned in the Bible...
Blah blah dinnerbrushteethsleep. The following day we arose and set off for the Broads. No sniggering please. These are manmade lakes, formed as medieval folks dug for peat - what they didn't realise was that water would seep into such low-lying land, so they now have lakes. It's not exactly remarkable, but it was on the way to the coast, where we were headed...
At this point the Great British Summer reared its soggy head. Our first stop was Southwold, a seaside resort full of British tourists determined to have a good time on the wet pier. Splendid. We joined them
As always, pictures don't do justice, but thought you might want to see it anyway.
and drove off soon after. From Southwold, not the pier. Aldeburgh awaited - another little coastal fishing town, replete with charm. And rain. It was nice, just.
One thing we've found in any town or small English city is that giant underground carparks are needed - they could put all the cars in there, and pile up the resulting dirt into pretty hills, thus improving everything! Seriously, cars are just not good for these places: there's too many of them, they look out of place, and they blight the feel. Of course we drove there! But I would be perfectly happy, if not delighted, to be asked to park the car a respectable half-mile out of the town and walk in. Rulebreakers to be run over.
The last stop of any note was Lavenham, which features houses made by drunk architects working with jelly instruments. I indulged in my first cream tea, an English tradition which involves covering some dough with fat then putting sugar on it. Yum! I like! By this time the weather had well and truly set into steely grey ropes of rain, so we made our desultory way back to Eton. A good little trip (36
Celebratory pub dinner
Note Mon's enthusiasm for food.
hours) and plenty more to explore!
There are more photos below