Sheringham met us with the blazing Sun (the route via East/West Runton was rather cloudy, albeit warm), new quirky murals with idling locals, lots of freshly made coffee in the beach huts, where folk sat in small groups and chatted, Whippy in numerous ice cream parlours, and screaming teens on their surfboards at the pebbly beach. Since we arrived in the middle of the high tide, there was no sand visible on the beach, but giant black rocks near the promenade, which make Sheringham look quite peculiar.
Sheringham remained the same—The Crown and The Two Lifeboats, the main pubs where we normally have our lunch after our arrival (they surely add something to their lemonades as you drink a pint just like that, without noticing) were operating as usual, the High Street was as busy as one could ever imagine, and our favourite gift shop still held lots of Tintin memorabilia (plus Green Pebble, Arran aromatics shower gels and the like).
Sadly, this time we didn’t have a chance to take our beloved steam train to Holt and back (they only offered diesel journeys, which are cool, but not exactly the same) due to fire hazard, but we reserved it for our next visit.
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