Norwich, Norfolk 'n good.

7th February 2020

Hmm, seems to have taken me a couple of weeks to get around to writing about my quick trip to the unofficial capital of East Anglia.Probably because it was something of a curate’s egg.

I had hoped to get a ride on one of Greater Anglia’s shiny new Stadler trains but this was not to be and my 1st Class (only because I had some compensatory vouchers to use up) off-peak return only got me a seat behind a Class 90 on a train with no working toilets, a lot of rattles, and an internal carriage end door that wouldn’t shut, resulting in a fresh breeze at each station stop. On the way back it was two mis-matched 4 car Class 321s with no catering. For my first experience of GA this wasn’t impressive.

At least the sun was shining when I arrived.

The Premier Inn is handily just across the River Wensum from the station although getting to the entrance entails finding your way around the back and through a car park and drop-off area. If there’s a segregated pedestrian route I saw no sign of it. Comfortable room with a river view across to the station, shame the free Wi-Fi was buggered. I went out to find something to eat.

I have as a solo traveller been into pubs in a lot of cities in the UK and never had a bad experience or been made to feel unwelcome. Norwich, or at least the Woolpack Inn on Golden Ball St. proved to be an exception. It started off ok, I had fish and chips and a pint both of which were more than acceptable and having eaten I was considering getting another pint but it wasn’t to be. Mrs Chatham-face-lift and family entered, removed the reserved after 6pm sign from a nearby table planted themselves down and ordered food. Shortly the musicians arrived to set up, which is why the tables were “reserved”, they were to be moved to provide a stage area. Good, I like live music in pubs. This gave Mrs CFL a problem though, she couldn’t find another table so she marched up to me and rudely asked “how long do you expect to be sitting there?”. She regarded my reply as “fucking uncooperative” apparently and wandered away only to return, plant her two Midwich Cuckoo look-a-like kids and inbred husband at my table and informed me that "we’re going to sit here now and have our meal”. I pointed out that this was rather rude so she shouted in my face “yes it is, so what?”. As the Woolpack staff didn’t seem interested I fucked off to find a decent pub. That she didn’t get the remains of my pint in her nail-hard face is only because I hate to waste beer but it was a close run thing. I was reminded of the expression “Normal for Norfolk” but that might be unkind, she looked more like she was from a couple of counties further south. This incident slightly overshadowed my mood for the rest of the trip.

The Ribs Of Beef on Wensum Street however was much more welcoming and had a terrific range of beers and ciders. If you’re in Norwich go there instead.

Returning to the hotel it was obvious that it was in the nightclub and late night kebab-house centre of Norwich but in spite of that I had an undisturbed night’s sleep.

The next morning I eschewed Premier’s overpriced breakfast, checked out, and headed to the market. There are few better markets than the one in the middle of Norwich and few better sausage and bacon baps than the one I got from Debs, which I ate sitting in front of city hall watching the activity in the market below and fending off the feral pigeons.

Suitably fed and watered I spent the next few hours exploring Norwich city centre’s ancient streets, which I’d previously only done briefly, being then accompanied by family and dogs who weren’t up for such aimless wandering.

After visiting the really impressive Cathedral I took a walk in the unseasonal sunshine - good timing as Storm Ciara arrived the next day - along the riverside and had enough time for a cheeky pint on the riverside terrace of the Compleat Angler before crossing the road to get the train home.