North Norfolk is completely awash with children called “Poppy”, “Max” and “Imogen”. They stare out from huge four by four windows as their parents whisk them and their colourful wellys on half-term walks. Their looks are perfect and, when within hearing range, are massively more erudite then me. I forget I was once a Thatcherite and long for the revolution.

The other thing here is that the Poles have left. Where last year I was faced with a wall of friendly efficient service by someone who almost certainly had a maths degree now there is a swelling group of aggressive pregnant chavs annoyed by being dragged away from Facebook.

Tomorrow myself and the brother are going to try and get on the Wash Monster seal clubbing trip to one of the many sand banks offshore; we both need warm coats for winter and feel this must be the ecological way forward.

Home of the Norfolk seal reduction campaign.

Long delay since the last entry; I was rather put off by the “is the Vatican a country making it the smallest” issue that the Pub Quiz pedants set about beating me with (thanks Tony). The answer is most probably and widely held to be yes but the “grey” area is “what is a country?”, this turns out to be a casual term open to debate, I’m doomed!

I’m up in Norfolk with my brother, Andrew, and mum for a week ensconced in the Caley Hall Hotel at Old Hunstanton. Fortunately it has free WiFi so I’m not lost in an ocean of newspapers and ignorance for the week. The downside is that my laptop has a fan that constantly wails like a 747 waiting to take off driving me up the wall.

As a side note, if anyones having a US election party next Tuesday night in Hastings please invite me!

Mrs Hardy wondering how much her sons bar bills will be.

Families are an endless source of wonder and this is at it’s best when the extended family is round the Sunday lunch table. Grandmas fulfilling their role as strict stereotypes to children who, having mastered their parents, humour them good naturedly half understanding that Grandma never managed to train their own children so what chance now? The wandering disgruntled ghost of the pointlessly bored teenage girl setting herself up as an easy target for a less that sympathetic younger brother. Round the table the slight mist of unspoken injustices and unsolvable conundrums add a marvellous edge. It was a great meal, it’s one of the few families that make me regret never having married!

The frowning ghost of Ninfield

Quick dash to Sheffield on Sunday to stay with Andrew, my brother. The plan was to go over to Manchester on Monday where my niece Em was getting some of her art up in a bar. Sunday afternoon was warm & sunny so when walking back to Andrews flat we decided to have a drink, just to stave of dehydration you understand. Four bottles of Magners, perfect summer drink, later we return to his flat with fish & chips in hand to eat & watch “Die Hard” on telly. I should have known something was not right when we became convinced that Bruces’ masterpiece had the best cinematography of all time. Went to bed still feeling fine though I will admit, merry. To cut a sordid story short I didn’t sleep that night & lost nine pounds in weight.

Ems work was great – but she is a lazy so & so… alarmingly travelling down a path I trod so many years ago! Her new beau is okay though, well he humoured me by listening as I rambled on, that good enough for me!

Emily in camping chic.