Thursday, 26 January 2017

RNLB Lester

 So. Here it is. The third and final set of photos from Sunday's daydrift along the coast from Cromer to West Runton. The subject is the RNLI Cromer Lifeboat RNLB Lester (RNLI 16-07).

This was taken from East Runton. I turned around to look back at Cromer and saw a boat near the pier

I didn't realise until later that it was the Cromer Lifeboat Lester

After I'd taken all those photos of the stripey cliffs at West Runton, I turned back for home and noticed the Lester offshore

Tuesday, 24 January 2017

Contorted Drifts, Chalk Rafts, and Pro-Glacial Zones*

* No, I don't know what we're talking about either. We're a witch, not a geologist!
We appropriated those sciencey terms here.

 As promised threatened in the last post, may I present the batch of photographs from Sunday 22nd cataloguing some of the geological features of the Cromer-East Runton cliffs. I'm not going to say much about them as I know next to bog-all about such things, I just think they're unusual. And some of them are quite pretty. 

No, it wasn't cold enough for blocks of ice to wash up - those are chalk boulders

This is the stretch of cliff that I found most fascinating. Get ready for the close-ups!

Sunday, 22 January 2017

Blue Skies and Beaches

 The sun is out. The sun is out!

 Ten o'clock this morning I left Castlette DeVice is a blaze of winter sunshine. Unlike most daydrifts I undertake, I had already decided where I was going to walk before I left the house castlette: along the beach to West Runton (last walked here - for the first time).
 Now, you might find some of these photos somewhat repetitive in nature, but my incredible indecisiveness kicked in with a vengeance making choosing between them more difficult than a life or death decision.

Leaving Cromer Pier behind me

Landscapes in the black mirror are closer than they appear...

A bijou beach residence for when you want to get away from it all!

Friday, 20 January 2017


Dear "friend" of

Fed up with your government/communist dictator/family/weather/life?

Sick to death of being associated with the useless population of your crummy country?

Being hounded by the masses for voting "incorrectly" in the latest farcical presidential election/EU referendum/parish council by-election/X Factor semi-final/W.I. Chutneys and Pickles Campaign?


Wednesday, 18 January 2017

Slow you down

Photographs from a trio of daydrifts.


Cromer beach. More than a bit blustery and nippy

The beginnings of a rainbow

Sunday, 15 January 2017

Friday The 13th

  Hat's proximity alarm bell started to ring.
  Bloody people! You pick a nice cold, dark, blustery evening to go out - in conditions that once seen out of their window, any normal person would have shaken their head at, ignored the dog's plaintive whine for a walk, and sat down with a nice cup of tea in front of a repeat of Downton Abbey - and people turn up to ruin it.
  I looked along the promenade, but couldn't see anyone anywhere. In fact, the prom appeared strangely spacious and desolate, as if there was something missing. Something I couldn't quite put my long, bendy finger on.
  I pursed my lips as Hat clung even more tightly to my head in the rising wind, its proximity bell ringing manically. I resolved myself to either getting Hat's instruction manual out when I got home, or smashing that bell to bits with a lump hamme-

* C R A S H *

"Yaaarrgh!"  I almost jumped out of my skin as an explosion of wood, glass and ghastly Laura Ashley curtains suddenly went off not two feet from my nose (from which I removed a large, blue-painted splinter). Someone tried to drop a house on me! (Again. And again.)

* blingle glingle glingle *

  That bloody bell again!

* S M A S H *

  Another explosion. From a few feet behind me. This time, as well as the wood and glass, I was peppered with cheap plastic cutlery and a damp box of firelighters*.
  Bugger this for a lark, I thought, and ran off down the promenade, clutching Hat to my head, dodging falling beach huts.


Sunday, 1 January 2017

"Did the plan fail, Edward?"*

 * Tulip 'Tubbs' Tattsyrup
(The League of Gentlemen series 1, episode 4 "The Beast of Royston Vasey")

 As you have almost certainly guessed due to the lack of a certain year's review, time has escaped us, and as a consequence, our plan for hosting the 2016 Coven Awards failed.
 And it's all the Host's fault!
 It was! I did my bit. I recapped what we'd done over the past year.
 Yeah, but that was the easy bit. It's only a bloody list of most of our blog posts, after all!
 Be that as it may, I still did it. I can see it languishing in our draft posts under this one. In fact, I'm going to pop back in time by a minute to publish it! If you and your irritating SubConscious weren't such procrastinating lazy arses-
 I'll have you know, I've made quite a lot of the award headers, thank you!
 Yeah! It's your SubC who's the lazy arse. Where are the quarterly post headers, hmm? I mean, how difficult is it to slap together four shitting banners that say 'January, February, March', or 'July, August, September', eh?
 I can't be blamed for that! Witchface has kept me busy with other things...
 Excuses, excuses-
 So what excuse have you got for not preparing and organising all the awards, then? How is everyone supposed to know who the Sexiest Strictly Ginger is? Or, what's our most Coveted Cusp Book Cover? Or, Beaky's Most Embarassing Blunder? Or, our Favourite Frogbot Infested Post? Or, which Sci-Figure has the Coldest, Deadest, Prettiest Eyes?
 And what our Favourite Font is?!?
A Starfleet dinosaur?!?
 Well... Um... There's, uhh...
 I thought so. Nothing. You've got nothing!
 As a matter of fact, I have. Dinosaurs!
 My excuse is dinosaurs. And Star Trek.
 Oh, gods...
 And you couldn't even manage to finish that, either.
 Shut up, you!