Accidentally, a change of scenery has occurred. We are now in Norwich, in the Kanton of Norfolk, for a few months, enjoying the English weather. This famous English weather has not changed since we left England in 2002. The weather forecaster refrain “This is a low front sitting over England and that is another low front which will be arriving in three days’ time” has taken hold, as has the cloud and the rain, which has hovered over southern and eastern England, since we moved into our Norwich cottage just over two weeks ago.
Why are the Hawkers in
Norwich, you may ask. This may be obvious to those who know that Norwich was,
up to the start of the Industrial Revolution (1760), the second most important and
wealthy town in England. Having an urban population of 125,000 people, it has
33 churches. The City elders claim that more people walk to work in Norwich
than in any other city in England, and of course, it has a premier league
football team.
I am sure that all readers of Grumpy’s blog are already well informed about these matters. However, as good as these reasons are, they do not explain the temporary migration of Famille Grumpy to East Anglia. So add to these very good reasons, the draw of family and the impending increase of our clan, and you have it.
I am sure that all readers of Grumpy’s blog are already well informed about these matters. However, as good as these reasons are, they do not explain the temporary migration of Famille Grumpy to East Anglia. So add to these very good reasons, the draw of family and the impending increase of our clan, and you have it.
The Norwich
branch of the Hawker family consists of Kevin, Louise and Bradley, plus Bump
due in the second half of June. Louise is the “Keeper of the Bump” and a lapsed
member of the “Swimming in the North Sea every morning at 07.00” club. Kevin is
a regular contributor of ideas and comments on early drafts of “Grumpy’s
brother’s blog”, and the junior Hawker is Bradley. 
Here is a photo of Bradley just after he has finished a press conference to announce that he will be publishing his own blog from next year.
Our cottage is the one with the blue wheelie-bin in the front. As you can see, it is not really a cottage at all, but a terraced house, formerly two small terraced houses, now converted into one.
Blue-wheelie
bins (Latin name unknown) are like weeds. They spring up everywhere you turn. The
view from one of the bedrooms (now converted into a study) reveals how these
triffid-like plants creep out at night, ready to pounce on unprotected
strangers. The council has a secret nursery and then delivers them at random to
unsuspecting households. Rumour has it that one day they will take over the
world.
Moving away from
wheelie-bins and back to the main plot, Grumpy cannot do anything without a
plan. The notice board in the bedroom number 3/ study has a list of sights to
see, activities to do, regular art centres to visit. Soon to be added are the cricket
matches to be seen.And high on the list of priorities is the training regime to compensate for the lethargy of the past six months and an increase of 9 kg. For the first time in Grumpy’s life, he has joined a fitness centre. Watching Grumpy on the cross-trainer is not a pretty sight and Grumpy’s attempts to get to 400 metres in the swimming pool are positively painful.
The list on the study wall does not yet show all the people to be visited during our stay. You might think that the object of this would be to renew old acquaintances and exchange news face to face, after so many years, whereas the truth is that I really do want to see whether one can get 900 kilometres out of a full tank of diesel in a Skoda Octavia. It doesn’t help that it is necessary to fill up the tank as soon as it is one-quarter empty, to comply with the Government’s “Don’t Panic about the Possible Tanker Drivers’ Strike” plea.
So don’t forget that if you just happen to be passing by Norwich, you must pop in and see us (if you can find it).
