Monday, 23 June 2025

Slovenia (1): On and Around Lake Bled

A Lake, an Island and a Cream Cake

Slovenia?

Not Slovakia!


Slovenia
This post is the first of several about our visit to Slovenia. Some people - I'm sure you're not one of them – confuse Slovenia and Slovakia, so for their benefit: Slovakia was the eastern end of Czechoslovakia (there's a clue in the name) until Czechia and Slovakia decided on an amicable divorce, the decree becoming absolute on the 1st of January 1993…

…while Slovenia was the northernmost, wealthiest and second smallest of the constituent republics of Yugoslavia. In July 1991 Slovenia became the first Yugoslav republic to declare independence.

The Army was dispatched to deal with the breakaway but withdrew after 9 days, what the Slovenes did was less important to them than the imminent fighting between Serbs and Croats and the horror that Bosnia would become (see Sarajevo: The Siege, posted 2012). As most of the disintegrating Yugoslavia became locked in internecine warfare, Slovenia quietly got on with being a new, small independent Republic, joining the UN in 1992, the EU in 2004 and adopting the euro in 2007.

Slovenia (Bled and Ljubljana underlined) with position in Europe in inset

Slovenia is prosperous, but small, a tad (4%) smaller than Wales, the epitome of a small country, with only 68% as many people – and their sheep population is not worth comparing.

22-June-2025

Getting There

Flights from Gatwick to Ljubljana, the Slovenian capital, are scheduled for just over two hours. That is an hour less than going to Portugal which I had always thought of as a near neighbour, while Slovenia is far away in eastern Europe.

Our late afternoon departure was delayed, and waiting for an air traffic control slot wasted more time. A change of time zone and the inevitable formalities at Ljubljana meant darkness was falling when we met with Boris who would drive us north to Bled. We arrived in time to check in and go to bed.

23-June-2025

Bled Lake


Bled
After an excellent breakfast we ventured out for our first look at Slovenia.

Bled is a small town (pop: 5,000) nestling in the foothills of the Alps, 50km north of Ljubljana and 10km south of the Austrian border. It has two hotel rooms for every citizen, suggesting it has become a tourist hot spot.

Bled, its lake and out hotel

The reason for that is Lake Bled, but where was it? Our hotel boasted it was ‘a few steps from the lake’ so we walked down hill, rounded a curve and proved them right.

Lake Bled and Bled Island

In 18th century England, as the need for castles and strongholds diminished, aristocrats and those with sufficient funds built themselves opulent country houses. The Renaissance had introduced an appreciation of beauty in nature and wealthy house-owners wanted perfect views from their windows and terraces. Nature was not always up to the job, providing an opportunity for professional landscapers, foremost among them Lancelot “Capability” Brown, who would move a woodland here, insert a lake there and create (at great expense) landscapes more perfectly natural than the one nature provided. Lake Bled would be Capability Brown's despair, there is nothing he could do to improve this view.

Bled's shield (above) shows blue water, an island and a castle on a rocky bluff. The first photo showed blue water and the island; a slight change of direction brings the castle into view.

Lake Bled and Bled Castle

You may view Lake Bled as a tear dropped from God’s eye, but at a more prosaic level it is 2.1Km long, up to 1.4km wide, has a surface area of 1.45km² and a maximum depth of 30m.

Round the Lake

There is a clause in the Slovenian constitution which states that all able-bodied visitors to Bled must, at the first available opportunity, walk around the lake. There is not actually true but most visitors behave as though it is, and we were no different. We set off in a clockwise direction on a warm morning that could only get hotter.

The footpath is 6km of largely level pavement, woodland track, gravel path and boardwalk. We tried, not entirely successfully, to avoid the temptation to repeatedly photograph ourselves in front of the castle…

Me spoiling the view of the castle

… or the island just because it was a different angle.

Lynne and the island, Lake Bled

Shaded, woody sections of the path attracted anglers who set up their rods, reclined comfortably in their chairs, and dozed as they waited for the rods to catch them a fish.

There was birdsong, so I asked Merlin what it was. It quickly spotted blackbird, robin, jackdaw, chiffchaff and great tit - some of the commonest birds from our garden at home - plus the slightly less common but still not rare blackcap, song thrush and nuthatch. Amidst this was a marsh tit, a 'lifer' for me. Globally its population is healthy, but in the UK it has dropped 50% since 1970.

A couple of hundred metres of boardwalk at the lake’s western extremity...

Lynne on the boardwalk

...allowed us to peer into the limpid waters (well, they're as limpid as lakes get) and spot the angler’s quarry. The lake contains giant catfish, pike, carp, three species of trout (though we saw none on local menus) perch and more.

Is that a trout in there?

The boardwalk has an angle allowing both the island and castle to be in one photograph…

The island and the castle in a single photo!

… and while we were there the clocktower chimed 10.25, which seemed eccentric.

Bled Cream Cake

Around 10.45 it was getting hotter and we started looking for a coffee stop. We found one at Velika Zaka, roughly the halfway spot. To accompany our coffee, we ordered a blejska kremna rezina (Bled Cream Cake) because cream cake is an integral part of visiting Bled, like walking round the lake.

Bled Cream Cake

A huge traditional pastry (I am glad we ordered one between two) it was ‘perfected’ in 1953 by Ištvan Lukačević, pastry chef at Hotel Park. They are now all made to his recipe. Apart from being difficult to eat with two soft layers between two crisp layers, and supplying a complete week’s sugar requirement in one go, it is not very interesting – there is more to a perfect pastry than buxom good looks (see the Portuguese Pastel de Nata in Eating the Algarve). Oh dear, now I can never go back!

Completing the Walk

A couple of hundred metres beyond our coffee stop, as the clock chimed 11.07, we detoured from the lakeshore around Bled Rowing Club, Olympic Centre and marina. The rowing club has a 6-lane lane 2000 metre course marked out diagonally across the lake. The World Championships have been held here four times, most recently in 2011.

We never quite returned to the lake shore, but as the day grew hotter and the chiming of the clock more erratic, the number of walkers grew steadily. We plodded on and were surprised to look back and discover the island was now well behind us and the castle looming above.

Still plodding on

Re-entering the built-up area at the head of the lake, our walk passed parkland, playgrounds and swimming areas. I had considered swimming but decided the lake would be too cold. I have seen a photo of a former student of mine (now grown up, so she should know better) swimming in Lake Bled in winter when the water temperature was 4°. That put me off, though I have read that by the end of summer it reaches an acceptable 25. But June, I thought, might be a little bit cool for a dedicated wuss and heated indoor pool swimmer like me, and I was less than entirely comfortable with the thought of 2m long catfish – you don’t see those in Stone Leisure Centre.

Lunch (With a Side Order of Rant)

The circumambulation completed, we checked out the boats for an afternoon ride to the island and then found the nearest bar to have a bite, rest our feet and administer a very necessary cold beer.

A life saving cold beer, Bled

It was the nearest bar because we were tired, we did not reject the next one up the road for any reason other than proximity, and certainly not because of this review which you can find on Google.

Location is bad, along a busy road (it is the road we are sitting beside in the photo) and the drink menu is very simple. Only 4 beers on the menu... (the owner claims, 8 and the drinks menu might look less simple if you include the many drinks the writer has never heard of and probably wont try) … [the] lady at the bar speaks only her own language… I stopped reading there, ‘her own language?’ as though she was making it up as she went along. She was, I presume, a Slovenian, speaking Slovenian in Slovenia, that is less ‘her own language,’ and more the language of this town and this country. You, Mr Reviewer, were the one speaking ‘his own language’ rather than the majority tongue. Many (most) of those working in tourist facing positions do learn/pick up some English, it has become the lingua franca of the tourist trade; it makes us anglophones (me included) lazy, but it should not make us feel entitled. We, the army of travellers/tourists/holidaymakers, may be legion, but we are guests not occupiers and should behave that way.

With that in mind, we thanked the young lady who had brought us our beer and paninis, left a modest tip, as is the local custom and returned to the lakeside.

Bled Island

Getting There

A landing stage for Lake Bled’s traditional flat-bottomed boats was near the start/finish of our walk. The pletna (from High German Plätten 'flat-bottomed boat') has been used in Lake Bled since at least 1590 (some claim 1150). In 1740 Marie Theresa, Empress of Austria granted 22 families exclusive rights to ferry pilgrims across to worship on Bled Island. No motorboats of any type are permitted on Lake Bled, and even today only Pletnas may carry paying passengers to and from the island. Many modern rowers are still members of the original 22 families.

The Pletna sets off

They row standing on the stern using two oars. The boats’ construction owes something to Venetian gondolas (Venice is only 170km away) but the propulsion is different, and passengers sit beneath brightly coloured awnings.

Heading out across the lake

The heavy boat moved at speed, demonstrating expertly applied brute force. As we approached the landing stage, apparently far too fast, the rower stood up straight, gave a deft flick with one oar, the boat turned 180° and glided gently up to its mooring.

Pletnas on Blead Island

The Island and the Church of the Assumption

There is no obvious reason for Bled Island being a place of pilgrimage but it has been a sacred site since before Christianity arrived. The Church of the Assumption of Mary was built here in the 15th century, and even today on the appropriate feast day (July the 15th) crowds come here to worship.

We were not pilgrims, and as we left the boat the oarsman said ‘return in 40 minutes.’ We struggled up the stone steps to the front of the old church with its prominent ‘no entry sign.’ ...

Stone steps, Bled Island

... and round the back where there is the clocktower, a café and the inevitable gift shop. After a good look at that we still had 30 minutes to fill.

Bell tower, Bled Island

The church was open on this side, but we needed a ticket. On approaching the adjacent kiosk, we learned that entry was €12.50 each. That is €25 (£22, US$30) for two which is a lot of money for a short visit to a small, largely disused church. ‘Is there a special price for seniors,’ I asked, playing the old git card. ‘I can give you a child’s ticket’ he said ‘€5.’ And so he did, though I still thought it was on the high side - though Lynne disagrees.

Inside is a baroque altarpiece with almost enough gold to satisfy an American president….

Gold altarpiece, Church of the Assumption, Bled Island

…and a baroque pulpit, …

Baroque pulpit, Church of the Assumption, Bled Island

…but the church is older than that as the remains of a Gothic fresco demonstrate.

Gothic fresco, Church of the Assumption, Bled Island

A bell rope hangs in front of the altar rail and punters are invited to give it a tug. There is a technique to it, but if you follow the instructions no great strength is required to get the bell ringing at the third pull. After that you can go on indefinitely, but good manners demand otherwise.

Ringing the bell, Church of the Assumption, Bled Island

Only when I heard the bell did I realise why the bell we had heard this morning (and wrongly assumed to be in the clock tower) had been chiming at such eccentric intervals.

A Tall Tale

Long ago, in Bled Castle a nobleman was killed by robbers. His grieving widow, Poliksena had a beautiful bell cast in his memory for the church on Bled Island. Sadly, a terrible storm blew up while the bell was being transported to the island. The boat capsized, and the bell sank into the depths never to be seen again.

Distraught, Poliksena went to Rome, entered a convent and lived out a life of quiet devotion. When the Pope heard her story, he commissioned a new bell and sent it to the island church.

That was the bell we rang, if you make a wish with a pure heart, the Virgin Mary will hear it and grant it. Whether that is true or not, we do not know as neither of us made a wish.

Of course, like all sunken bells wherever they may be, when the mist is on the lake, the sound of a bell etc, etc, etc.

Back to Bled

Like most of the others, we arrived a little early for the return journey. The round trip, which commits the oarsman to 10-15 minutes rowing each way and a wait of 30 minutes, costs €20 a head. A pletna has 20 seats giving a total of €400 for the trip, do that five times a day, six days a week produces around €50,000 a month. Doubtless there are overheads, maintaining the boat, membership of the organisation which keeps the rowing fraternity a small elite group, and maybe landing fees and mooring costs, but it is, on the face of it, a nice little earner. But not every boat is full, and it is a seasonal occupation. Opening up the market might reduce prices, but tradition would be lost, the atmosphere would change, people might even notice there is nothing to do on Bled Island and that would have to be remedied. I think I prefer it as it is, low key, peaceful but maybe a little more expensive than it should be.

So, the story of our first day in Slovenia comes to an end. We went out for dinner later, and that will, one day, be part of another post called Slovenia: Eating and Drinking.

Thursday, 10 April 2025

Norfolk (3) Hunstanton and Around

Hunstanton: A Victorian Seaside Resort

Introduction


Norfolk
Kings Lynn & W Norfolk
Three years ago, Lynne and I visited Kings Lynn. This produced two posts Kings Lynn, the Town and Around Kings Lynn, The Wash and Castle Rising. This year we went 17 miles further north to Hunstanton, almost on the lip of the Wash. We rented the two upper floors of a sturdy Victorian home to accommodate us, our daughter Siân, son-in-law James and their two children, aged seven and fourteen.

Norfolk - and (inset) the county's position within England
The many pins are the work of Tour Norfolk from whom I have borrowed the map

The village of Old Hunstanton is of prehistoric origin and the Le Strange family were the local gentry from the early 12th century until 1949.

In 1846, Henry L'Estrange Styleman Le Strange (great name!) decided to develop the area south of the village as one of those a new-fangled bathing resorts. Development started, then stalled, but in 1861 he formed a group of investors to build a railway line from King's Lynn. Completed in 1862 the line allowed rapid expansion of the new Hunstanton. Unfortunately, Henry died the same year, leaving his son Hamon (another good name) to reap the rewards of his efforts.

Today Henry stands, rather besmirched with guano, outside the old town hall, now an art gallery and event venue.

Henry Le Strange, Hunstanton

Hunstanton Beaches

07-Apr-2025

North Beach

Having unpacked, we made the short walk to the south end of the north beach. After long drives, legs needed stretching.

It is not a classic lazing and bathing beach, but the striped cliff is unusual. At the base is a dark red layer of Carrstone mostly hidden by the rockfalls, an unusual red limestone occupies the middle with white limestone at the top.

North Beach, Hunstanton

It also has unusual rough, rounded rocks for jumping on and off.

North Beach, Hunstanton

08-Apr-2025

North Beach Again

The next morning at low tide we left our vehicles in the north end car park. Here the white limestone band appears thicker and cliff-fall rubble is all around.

Hunstanton North Beach

Leaving the others looking for fossils I set out across the rocks and the sand beyond. There were waders in the shallow water and I wanted Merlin to identify them (Merlin is a free app from Cornell University which does just that, I recommend it). Unfortunately, I had underestimated the stream flowing across the beach. The people with wellies, walking on my right simply splashed through, but I was underequipped.

Hunstanton north beach

I returned to the others who had found several devil's toenails (an extinct oyster) and belemnites by the dozen. These were a small variation on squid with a bullet-shaped internal skeleton which became fossilised wholesale. They were tiny, several being described as 'underwhelming'.

Further on, geography brought us nearer the waders. Herring and black-headed gulls are ubiquitous, and oystercatchers common but I also recorded whimbrels and curlews and, perhaps surprisingly, an osprey. Birdsongs can be similar, and picking individual birds from the avian babble is difficult. Despite its name Merlin is not a magician, and inevitably throws up the occasional false positive, but it insisted there was at least one osprey out there.

We soon reached the wreck of the Sheraton. Shipwrecks are often stories of disaster, lost lives, and heroics, but not this one.

The wreck of the Sheraton

Constructed in 1907 in Beverley as a trawler, the Sheraton was requisitioned by the Royal Navy 1915-18 and again in 1939 when she was armed with a gun and patrolled the coast. Post-war she was painted bright yellow as a Royal Air Force target ship. By 1947 they had still not hit the target but she broke free of her moorings in an April gale and ran aground here. Re-floatation attempts failed, her superstructure was salvaged and the rest left to rot.

After pausing for a thermos of coffee and a snack, James, Lynne and the youngsters headed back to the cars while Siân and I continued towards the southern access we used yesterday. We were closer than we thought, but were delayed by a large bird standing on a rock. We approached carefully along the sandy channels in the grid-like rock formation, repeatedly creeping then photographing until we crept too close and he flew off.

Great cormorant, Hunstanton beach (with an oystercatcher down to his right)

The final photo will not win prizes, but is sufficient to identify the bird as a great cormorant. Ordinary cormorants are common, but this was our first great cormorant.

Grid-like rock formations, Hunstanton north beach

The rock formations are best seen from steps at the southern access. The pattern is caused by jointing in the bedrock, the lines of weakness being expanded by the sea..

South Beach

After lunch we strolled through the small town centre and across the sloping green below the statue of Henry Le Strange to the south beach.

Mr Le Strange's slopping sward, Hunstanton

This is a sandy beach with bathing opportunities, but not so much in April, the sun shone but with little warmth. Following the younger members of the party we headed for the amusement arcade - Pier Family Amusements according to the sign, though there is no pier.

Pier Family Amusements, Hunstanton

It is a long time since I have visited such a place and I could rant at length, but suffice it to say:-

I was distressed by the penny falls. The elegant simplicity of shuffling shelves and falling coins has been replace by a festoon of dolls and fake flowers, which conspire to keep the coins in place.

I was amazed when Siân beat her son at air-hockey and proudly announced her highest ever score. That a woman with her intellect and responsibilities keeps a corner of her brain labelled ‘air-hockey scores’ baffles me.

I smiled sadly as our grand-daughter amassed over 70 tickets spinning coins across a moving surface to hit targets. She proudly took her tickets to the booth and swapped them for a miniscule lollipop. She could have bought one four times the size for half the money she sent spinning.

Of course, I thought all this but said nothing. It is one thing being a miserable old git, but entirely another to announce it.

James kindly bought everyone a sugary doughnut, warm from the fryer. We ate them sitting on the prom and then continued, sticky-fingered, in the direction of the funfair. Passing the mini-golf the youngest member of the party loudly informed us she wanted to play mini-golf, so we did.

Watching James for tips

It was a great success…but…years ago I played golf regularly. I was not good, but with the ball on the green and I could manage a clean contact between ball and putter - because any fool could. Not anymore. I toe-ended, I shanked and I hit the ground so the club bounced and clipped the top of the ball. Age has brought me to this!

09-Apr-2025

Felbrigg Hall

Many years ago, we acquired a National Trust matching game. Half the cards depicted   NT properties, the other half the ghosts that haunted them. The young Siân liked this game and read the cards assiduously. As Felbrigg Hall in Norfolk was one of those properties, a visit was inevitable.

The Hall is less than 40 miles from Hunstanton, but we let the satnav chose the scenic route and it took some 90 minutes rambling through the lanes of north Norfolk to get there. The grounds around the hall are vast and landscaped, but the hall itself is relatively modest.

Felbrigg Hall

Felbrigg was the home of landed gentry, not aristocrats. Though owning the hall for over 400 years the Wyndham family held no titles, though one of them was knighted, and two were admirals.

The original medieval building had been much modified before it passed by marriage from the Felbrigg family to John Wyndham in 1450.

From then until to 1866 the hall was owned by 11 Wyndhams (or Windhams) 6 Williams, 2 Johns, 2 Thomases and an Ashe. It mostly passed from father to son, but there were the occasional hiccups that occur in every dynasty.

Sir John Windham, the second John, was responsible for the Jacobean core of the building around 1620. The current building is still largely Jacobean, thought with many later modifications. The interior is decorated in more 19th century style.

Morning room, Felbrigg Hall

William Windham I (d. 1689) commissioned architect William Samwell to extend the Jacobean house in 1674.

Great Hall, Felbrigg Hall

His son Ashe Windham, owned Felbrigg for 60 years until his death in 1749. He built the orangery and a service courtyard.

Dining room, Felbrigg Hall

His son, William Windham II hired architect James Paine to remodel the Hall and the formal landscape. There is a portrait of him in the uniform of a Hungarian Hussar, probably from his Grand Tour.

William Windham II as a Hungarian Hussar

William Windham III (1750-1810) was a bibliophile and collector and is largely responsible for the library. While staying at his London home he noticed a friend’s house was on fire and dashed in to save valuable manuscripts. He fell during the rescue and later died from his injuries. He is Felbrigg’s best known apparition, allegedly appearing in the library whenever his favourite books are laid out.

Library, Felbrigg Hall

Felbrigg Hall’s last Windham, was William Frederick (1840–1866) whose father died when he was young. He was sent to Eton but left at 16 and had failed careers in law and the military before inheriting the hall and an annual income of £3,100 (c£250,000 today) on his 21st birthday. He then announced his desire to marry Anne Agnes Willoughby. She may have been the innocent daughter of a vicar, and thus slightly below the Windham’s social standing, or a high-class courtesan, or something in between, different sources tell very different stories. Whatever the truth, his scandalised uncle went to court to have William declared a ‘lunatic.’ The long and dramatic case was followed closely by the press before eventually the judge opined that William was eccentric, but nor mad. Almost ruined by legal expense, he now set about dissipating the remainder of his inheritance and by 1863, the hall was sold and William was destitute.

He allegedly eked out an existence driving coaches, but died in 1866 aged 26. A ghostly coachman is sometimes seen diving furiously through the estate. It may be William.

John Ketton bought the hall in 1863. In 1969 his great-grandson Robert Wyndham Ketton-Cremer died unmarried and without an heir, bequeathing Felbrigg Hall to the National Trust.

Robert Wyndham Ketton-Cremer by Allan Gwynne-Jones, Felbrigg Hall

Finally, we descended to the servant’s realm. I love these huge old kitchens…

Kitchen, Felbrigg Hall

...but I am grateful it is not my job to make the copper gleam.

Copper pots, Felbrigg Hall kitchen

Outside it was exceedingly cold. After a week or two of pleasant sunshine, the clouds had reasserted themselves and with them the famously biting east wind. However, we had to spend some time exploring the grounds as the youngest member of the family had to complete the easter egg challenge.

That done, she insisted on visiting the walled garden. It is large as walled gardens go, but not at its best in early April.

Walled garden, Felbrigg Hall

As is traditional, espaliered fruit trees lined the walls, many of them varieties that have all but disappeared. This is an apple called D’Arcy Spice.

D'Arcy Spice apple tree, Felbrigg Hall

We then left and took the quicker ‘recommended route’ back to Hunstanton

The Food we Ate

Inevitably...  here is a section on the culinary delights and specialities that can be found almost everywhere by a diligent traveller. Happily I was surrounded by diligent travellers on this trip - and two more whose palates will mature soon enough.

Curating the Cheeseboard

Curating the cheeseboard is Siân’s self-imposed task. Nobody else, as far as I know, ‘curates’ a cheeseboard, but she takes it seriously, knows what she is doing and her cheeseboard expects the best.

A place for a curation

And this is how it looks when a curation has occurred. Three of these cheeses are from Norfolk, the fourth, at my request, is Baron Bigod, made just over the border in Suffolk.

A beautiful curation

Clockwise from 6 o’clock, the temporary residents are:-

Fen Fossey

Fen Fossey is made by Norfolk and Better, who are based in a farm in Thetford.  A small tomme-style cheese classed by the makers as semi-hard, though I would call it ‘hard.’ Smooth and herby with fruity and blue notes it offers a rich and complex flavour that develops on the palate.

Norfolk White Lady

Norfolk white lady was first produced in 1999 by Jane Murray at Whitewood Dairy, near Norwich, using the milk of her own flock of Friesland ewes. She was the first women in modern times to produce artisan cheeses in Norfolk and her Brie-style recipe produces a soft bloomy rind as snowy white as the ewes, hence the name. Jane Murray retired and Becky Enefer now makes White Lady at Wilton Farm, Hockwold.

It is not a strong cheese, but enjoyably subtle, buttery and sheep-y. With longer maturation, I read, it becomes richer and oozier.

Jiffler Blue

Blue Jiffler is a new cheese this year from Norfolk and Better. It is a semi-hard cheese, brined and aged to develop a natural rind and enhanced with a blue vein. It is mild and creamy with subtle hints of salt and herbs, but for me the 'blue' flavour is not strong enough. To ‘Jiffle’ is Norfolk dialect for ‘to fiddle or mess around,’ a reference to the constant movement of the cheese during maturation.

And finally, the sublime

Baron Bigod

Made at Fen Farm near Bungay, in Suffolk, Baron Bigod might be the best soft cheese in the world (see Eating Aldeburgh). This example was fully ripe, almost flowing and with a beguiling tang of the farmyard. Loved it.

Cromer Crab

The brown crab, Cancer pagurus is widely fished around the UK and Irish coasts. Those from the nutrient-rich waters of the chalk reef stretching along the Norfolk coast either side of Cromer (see map) are sold as Cromer crabs and are particularly sweet, delicate, and flavourful.

We bought ours from Gurney’s Fish Shop in Thornham, just outside Hunstanton. As we learned in Aldeburgh last year, the more derelict the shack, the better (and more expensive) their fish. (Siân’s view: artfully distressed, not derelict).

Gurney's Fish Shop, Thornham

We bought two dressed Cromer crabs, smoked prawns and some tiny brown shrimps. This, along with salad and crackers, and followed by the excellent cheeseboard provided the four adults with a first-class dinner without needing to cook. The grandchildren picked a bit, but unsurprisingly preferred more familiar offerings.

Dressed Cromer crab
The claw meat, white meat and dark meat have been extracted, chopped, artfully mixed and returned to the cleaned shell.

Fish and Chips

Inland fish and chips is almost entirely takeaway food, but the seaside is different. Restaurants attached to fish fryers have tidied themselves up in recent years, expanded their menus (a little) and some even have drinks licences.

Fish and Chip restaurant, Hunstanton

Expanded menu or not, Lynne and I chose traditional cod, chips and mushy peas. The cod was very fresh, the batter crisp and there were more chips than I could eat. Perfect.

Crisps

Having descended from the heights of artisan cheeses and Cromer crab, lets hit rock bottom with crisps. Siân has long collected (not curated!) unlikely crisp flavours. Four years ago in Ludlow she found three game flavours. This year the Grouse and Whinberry was back, joined by Spanish made Cretan Herb flavour and a French Confit d’Ognion avec Vinaigre Balsamique. We opened the Cretan Herbs. The best part of it was the drawing of a bull playing a balalaika on the packet.

Weird crisps

11-Apr-2025

Watatunga Safari

On Thursday we were up and packed early and drove 20 miles south, past Kings Lynn, towards the village of Watlington. Near the village, tucked round the back of an unsightly quarry, is Watatunga wildlife reserve.

Opened in 2020, Watatunga is 170 acres of diverse habitats, including woodland, grassland, wetlands, and lakes. Siân had hired a 6-seater electric buggy for a tour, allowing us to see as many of the birds and their 24 species of deer and antelopes as chose to show themselves.

We were a tad early, so had a look at the duckpond outside reception. Among others they have white-faced whistling-ducks, red-crested pochards and mandarin ducks,

A hiding mandarin duck, Watatunga

A 10 o’clock sharp we were seated in our buggy (James kindly volunteered to take the wheel) setting off in a small convoy behind a cheerful young woman with a walkie-talkie and a mission to explain.

She was keen to tell us about the reserve’s conservation work with both ungulates and birds. The first animals we saw (too distant to photograph) were hog deer, a small deer with an alleged pig-like gate when alarmed. Once they roamed northern India, Bangladesh, Myanmar and further south but are now endangered.

The water buffalo were closer. Numerous, they are domesticated throughout south Asia.

Water Buffalo, Watatunga

Next up was a wildebeest, again hardly rare and a herd animal, so one wildebeest is a sad sight.

Black Wildebeest, Watatunga

I am posting pictures of almost every animal we saw well enough to photograph - some stayed too far away while others we never saw (they are free to roam). Birds present the snapper with more problems than ungulates, but the green peafowl were very co-operative.

Green peafowl, Watatuga

Indian peafowl have settled in many countries and are common in India. The peacocks carry their enormous tail feathers which become tatty out of the breeding season and look a burden, presumably making life easy for predators. The Green peacock’s tail conveniently moults after mating but even so, it is green peafowl, who once ranged from Myanmar to Java who are endangered, not the Indian species.

Silver pheasants resemble ordinary pheasants iearing a long white coat. Originally from south east Asia, they have been introduced elsewhere and are plentiful.

Silver pheasant, Watatunga

Then we met Dave. Dave is a Great Bustard, sent here from Salisbury Plain where efforts are being made to re-establish a British population. Apparently believing he is an electric buggy, he regularly performs his courtship display to the convoy leader. Once rejected he walks down the rest of the line….

Dave the Great Bustard looks wistfully at an unresponsive buggy, Watatunga

…looking for a better offer. I wonder why he was surplus to requirements in Salisbury?

Undaunted he carries on down the line

A little further on were a couple of newly arrived Bongos, spectacularly striped antelopes from central Africa.

The mountain bongo, Waratunga

That ended our ‘safari.’ It had been an enjoyable 90 minutes, with some interesting animals and an informative and amusing guide. I wish them all the best with their conservation work.

And finally the name. Watatunga, they told us, is a portmanteau word, ‘Wat’ from the nearby village,’atunga’ from sitatunga, a close relative of the Bongo – and I thought Watatunga was a lake in New Zealand!

Then we said our goodbyes and made our different ways home.