Ruins in the Abbey Gardens, Bury St Edmunds
We managed to eschew our decorating duties this weekend, for two days of getting out and about, in both Essex and Suffolk.
We saw seasides and ruins, and as the weather gave us a proper taste of summer, came home with very red and pink tans.
On Saturday, we took in Frinton-on-Sea, and Walton-on-the-Naze. Seemingly still living in its Victorian past, Frinton is almost locked off from the world by two manual level-crossing gates, and a white-painted perimeter fence.
And, walking along the beach hut-lined promenade, we thought we were extras in a big budget Hollywood movie. There was no view out to sea, or very many yards ahead, as thick fog had consumed everything in its path. Although warm, stormy high breakwaters were crashing against the sea wall, leaving no sand to be seen.
A Hollywood movie with a very big dry ice machine, obviously.
It was very surreal, and you would never have guessed that we were at the seaside. We continued to walk to Walton and disappeared into the pier, where among the slot machines, doughnuts and dodgems, lines of fishermen waited for their next catch. As we walked back to drive to the Naze, the fog seemed to lift as fast as it had arrived, peeling back to reveal bright blue and sunny skies.
Suddenly, the beach-goers who had seemed out of place between the misty and submerged groynes, looked right at home, and not as they had been transported onto the foggy shore from another place and time. A very nice place then - even nice enough for a (very cold) paddle and an ice-cream.
The Naze was equally scenic. With 50 acres of scrubland similar to a common, 50 acres of acid grass coastal heath land, 200 acres of salt marsh, and views across the estuary to Harwich, it really is the perfect place for a warm afternoon walk. And, the Naze Tower, built in 1721 to guide ships to Harwich, still stands guard proudly atop the cliffs today.
With fossil-rich pools and sand on the shoreline, we combed the crumbling cliff bottoms for stoned bones. Excitement heightened when we thought we’d struck lucky and found remains of small prehistoric creatures, and vowing to research them later, we stuffed them into our shorts’ pockets like excited schoolboys and decided to head for home.
Deciding to stay local(ish), Bury St Edmunds was the destination of choice yesterday. Paying a visit to the Abbey Gardens, we lounged on the grass, and marvelled at the first baby ducklings of the year, before setting off on the circular walk, which unexpectedly, would transport us from the bustling grass expanses to the quiet countryside.
Bury St Edmunds poppy field and a lesser-spotted Nik
Looking back, it couldn’t have been a very long walk, but as we stopped to take pictures of poppies in rapeseed fields, the noise of the town slipped away. As we strolled through the long grass, the meadow views opened up in front of us, revealing blue, yellow, green and red-dotted vistas all around.
Back in the gardens themselves, we learnt about the once grand church that was now in impressive ruins. Providing us with plenty of photo opportunities, the tall stone columns revealed fragments of both their thirteenth century past, and the building of which they were once part.
A walk through the medicinal herb garden taught us which plants treated what conditions, while back in the town centre, cool icy drinks rewarded our dehydrated bodies.
It was also another weekend of home-grown first harvests. Strawberries from Chelmsford provided light refreshment, while basil from Ipswich gave our brie and tomato baguettes a peppery tang.
In both cases, we thought that the crops we’d cultivated were much tastier than their shop-bought cousins.
Summer. Full steam ahead, please.