Today Cromer turned into its usual misty northern self, with intermittent (quite lengthy) drizzles and fog, but we weren’t disappointed (we actually cannot be disappointed by anything, while staying here). So, our previous plan to walk to Overstrand during low tide was altered, and we strolled around the town instead.
First, “Bookworms”; nothing has changed since our last visit: it was quiet and empty inside, with a (usually) contemplative owner, who was meditating in the tiny room behind, listening to his beloved Classic FM (it was Mahler today). I bought di Lampedusa’s Leopard (my memory about Visconti’s classic is quite vague, although you’re not supposed to confess such wrongdoing, as your highbrow friends would laugh at you… or maybe not), Gormenghast (L. has been mentioning Peake for eternity, so there) and one of the relatively vintage Rupert books (the newer ones, albeit masterfully executed, are lacking that awkward charm of the earlier series). A book combo somehow makes perfect sense to me.
We wandered on the beach for ages: it was pleasantly chilly, gloomy, greyish and, overall, marvellous. Oh, and we spotted not one, but TWO surfers: they cheered each other, falling off their boards (idk, but perhaps that’s what they normally do anyway).
Returning to the hotel after our splendid adventures was pure bliss: the old lounge is warm, and snuggly, and old folks are playing board games somewhere, and we are trying hard not to fall asleep in shabby midcentury chairs covered by checkered blankies.
No comments :
Post a Comment