While having our last stroll around the centre before departure, we witnessed a street singer, a blond lady in a floaty garment, performing “Jolene.” She sung well enough, but that was the most British, and, to be precise, most North Norfolk Jolene we’ve ever heard. On the phrase about “flaming locks of ôbön hae” we both, sadly, started laughing uncontrollably and ran around the corner in order not to cause any awkwardness.
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Leaving the Pier without a Combo Whippy? You joking.
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