You’d be amazed by how fond crabs are of bacon. A couple of diminutive sisters
are sitting on the quayside at Blakeney jabbing chunks of their leftover
breakfast onto the end of a length of string, and dipping it into the water
where they can find a gap between the cramped fishing boats and pleasure
craft. It takes less than a minute for the crabs to bite and be hauled out
of the water, stubbornly refusing to let go of their scrap of streaky. The
kids put them in a bucket for a while, just to watch the pugnacious
crustaceans fight each other, then they are thrown back into the water. If
shellfish have arteries, then those of Blakeney crabs are severely clogged.
That kind of innocent seaside fun is an endangered species these days.
Children’s holidays tend to be mediated, thoroughly choreographed affairs at
artificial resorts or holiday parks, where they will cast a jaded eye over
the outdoor amenities before heading back to the chalet and the PlayStation.
An idle fortnight messing about by the seaside doesn’t seem to be allowed
any more.
Some places have escaped ruthless commerce-led modernisation though, and
Blakeney is a case in point. In fact this entire stretch of the Norfolk
coastline, roughly extending from shabbily quaint Hunstanton in the west
round to Cromer to the east is like a time capsule of old England. For Scots
who are dismayed by the brutal vulgarity of so many English resorts, the
conservative gentility and well-preserved watercolour beauty of the Norfolk
coastline will come as a breath of bracing North Sea air. The birdlife, the
marshlands and estuarine swamps give it a character you won’t find elsewhere
in England. And its proximity to the capital has given the region a
market-led profusion of restaurants and delicatessens to satisfy the
haughtiest of gastronomy fiends.
Blakeney hotel is an independent establishment that would induce fits of
exasperation in any corporate hotelier. It seems in a perpetual state of
dithering whether to be smart and chic or comfortable and homely. Some of
the rooms are poky and stuffy, others airy and spacious, with views over the
waterfront. It’s a place where you can potter around on a wet Sunday
afternoon reading the papers, but it’s also somewhere you’ll find one of the
best restaurants in Norfolk, serving simply prepared but impeccable meals
utilising the best of the local seafood.
The village is blessed with a beautiful, meandering main street, with the
traditional pebble-dashed cottages, and an atmospheric local pub, the King’s
Arms, with its low beams and cosy nooks. A local preservation society has
been instrumental in preserving and renovating the old cottages, without
succumbing to that “preserved in aspic” feel that makes many heritage
villages seem like museums rather than real communities. Outside the hotel,
makeshift stalls sell seasonal shellfish, usually crab in an unfussy
sandwich, but fresh oysters as well, served up with a slice of lemon and
optional Tabasco.
The classic day out from Blakeney is the trip to Blakeney Point, the tip of a
long shingle spit, home to colonies of seals and the breeding ground for
terns. There are two ways to get there. From Blakeney or nearby Morston,
boat trips leave on a variety of tours depending on the tides, allowing both
close-up viewing of the seals and landings at Blakeney Point. More rewarding
is the four-mile walk along the spit, starting from the beach near the
village of Cley-next-the-Sea. The somewhat arduous but exhilarating hike
along the shingle brings you to the spectacular sight of a sandbank crowded
with common and grey seals.
Back on terra firma, those with cars can head off down the back roads into one
of the best-preserved regions of England. Burnham Market, a few miles
inland, is a picture-postcard village in the sense that it looks as if it
has been touched up by an artistic hand in search of olde worlde charm. Its
pristine Georgian buildings cluster around a central green in a neat array,
and in summer you feel it has been created for the sole purpose of
weekenders or day-trippers. It is the urban vision of bucolic bliss, with
traditional butchers and delicatessens selling convincing versions of
timeless rustic fare, all game pies, home-churned butter and toothsome pâté.
There are beaches in the vicinity too, infused with that purity that seems to
characterise a north-coast shoreline, wherever you are in the world. Holkham
has that exposed freshness that means it will never be the regular haunt of
sun worshippers, although that pretty much applies to most of the Norfolk
coast. These are sands seen at their best around dusk in late summer, with
still a little residual heat lingering around, and a red haze reflecting off
the waves. Further around towards the west, Hunstanton is the classic
example of a decaying seaside resort, trying hard, but always seeming
sepia-tinged. You only need a few Victorian bathing machines and a marching
tune from the bandstand and the period ambience would be irresistible.
Back at the Blakeney hotel, there may be a few rain clouds scudding in from
the North Sea, but in the restaurant, they are dishing up fish cooked with a
delicacy that would have the likes of Gary Rhodes and Rick Stein purring
their approval. In the television lounge, gents of a certain age and a
determined G and T habit are snoozing into their newspapers, while down 17
convoluted corridors, somebody has discovered the billiard room and is
lining up a red into the corner pocket. Here it is forever an age of
innocence untainted by Starbucks, broadband and Thai-style chicken nuggets.
This was what England must have been like before the fall.
Details: BMI (www.flybmi.com) has return flights
from Aberdeen to Norwich for £162, Eastern Airways (www.easternairways.com)
flies from Edinburgh to Norwich from £196 return and easyJet
(www.easyjet.com) flights start at £40 from four Scottish airports to
Stansted airport, from where trains connect to Norfolk. The Blakeney hotel
(www.blakeney-hotel.co.uk, 01263 740797) has an offer of £94 per person for
a two-night weekend stay including breakfast and three-course dinner.
