Today it rained. Again. And we went on a walk. Again. But at least we started the day with a leisurely breakfast in the cottage. Unfortunately, we’d run out of coffee by the time it got to my cup, so I had to make do with a meagre cup of tea. Definitely not strong enough to cure my headache from last night’s ‘wild’ night on the (two pints of) cider.
We then rather reluctantly togged ourselves up in full waterproofs (although no longer water proof) and headed out into the rain. “Oh, it’s not that bad!”, we said cheerily. Half an hour later, as we were battling our way through a field full of cows, the wind and the rain battering away at us from all directions, we changed our minds. “What do you get if you walk under a cow?”, my Dad said, trying to lighten the mood. “A pat on the head”, I said, monotone and in no mood for jokes. “We’re supposed to be on holiday”, I moaned.
Of course, the mood actually was lightened when a pub came into sight. We ordered three coffees, and whispered in snobbish disbelief about the family in the corner drinking pints at 11am.
As if by magic, when we emerged from the pub, the sun had made an appearance and the rain had stopped. Now we could actually enjoy Walberswick’s quaint little harbour, with its black beach huts and shacks selling fresh fish. We didn’t bother the ferry man this time, and headed back along the beach towards Southwold.
We got back to the cottage only a couple of hours after we’d left, feeling as though we’d hiked up a mountain. I blame the sand: I swear it makes every step twice as hard.
The afternoon consisted of lying on the sofa/having a bath/trying to read but actually falling asleep/blogging. We did also go for a mooch around the shops in Southwold, so we didn’t just laze around all afternoon. It was nice though, especially after the morning’s expedition. We are supposed to be on holiday, after all.
In the evening, a rare thing occurred: we actually left the house. My Dad had booked us tickets to see a National Theatre Live performance of Alleluia at the (get this) ‘Electric Picture Palace’, because we are just oh-so-cultured. Tbf it was a great evening (even if Dad did turn to me at the interval and say, “This is the worst play I’ve ever seen in my life” lol). At least Mum and I enjoyed it. And it was quite a novelty, being greeted at the door by a concierge and then having to squeeze past people in the tiny (and slightly claustrophobic) cinema, which only seats 70 people. I think I lowered the average age by about 30 years, but it was fun and quaint. We followed the performance with a trip to the Lord Nelson pub for yet another G&T, before heading back to the cottage to collapse into bed.