|Early morning with the River Bure at the bottom of our garden|
|The day boat|
|Commander Ted aged 3 at the helm!!!|
|A trip to the beach at Sea Palling|
|Cruising down the river at Belaugh.|
|A 'Windboat' from the golden age of motor cruisers crossing Barton Broad|
|A trip by rail to Aylsham|
|Quanting a traditional yacht from Hunter's Yard at Ludham|
How did the Devil come? When first attack?
These Norfolk lanes recall lost innocence,
The years fall off and find me walking back
Dragging a stick along the wooden fence
Down this same path, where, forty years ago,
My father strolled behind me, calm and slow.
I used to fill my hand with sorrel seeds
And shower him with them from the tops of stiles,
I used to butt my head into his tweeds
To make him hurry down those languerous miles
Of ash and alder-shaded lanes, till here
Our moorings and the masthead would appear.
There after supper lit by lantern light
Warm in the cabin I could lie secure
And hear against the polished sides at night
The lap lap lapping of the weedy Bure,
A whispering and watery Norfolk sound
Telling of all the moonlight reeds around.
How did the devil come? When first attack?
The church is just the same, though now I know
Fowler of Louth restored it. Time, bring back
The rapturous ignorance of long ago,
The peace, before the dreadful daylight starts,
Of unkept promises and broken hearts.
|Sunset on the Bure|