The sun always shines on us. Or at least that’s the impression given by the photos in the blogs of our monthly short breaks over the past couple of years. The first trip of our third year of travelling was rather different to the norm: it was a return visit, to Cromer, following March last year. And being January, the weather was less than pleasant, cool and breezy, with barely a glimmer of sunlight, although such rain as there was happened on our train journeys and overnight!

But of course that is only to be expected at this time of year. At least we know and love the hotel (the Cliftonville) and indeed the very room (number 39) we asked specially for, top floor with uninterrupted sea views, impervious to the weather…

And we do like seaside towns out of season, so after an excellent lunch at the hotel (best chips ever, triple cooked to perfection, and my bacon and black pudding salad was just sublime) we headed out into the bracing Norfolk air for a walk through the town and along the promenade and pier.

Oozing out of the wooden hoardings outside the hotel was a remarkable crop of Jew’s-ear fungus, while springing green on the cliff edge, only a few weeks from flowering, Alexanders was already bearing the galls of rust fungus Puccinia smyrnii, along with peppercorn seeds retained from last summer.

Under leaden skies, we enjoyed the sights – flints, waves and gulls – as well as the sounds of a town being repaired and prepared for the summer season to come.

The day was rounded off very well with a meal at the Red Lion Hotel, as excellent as ever. Next day too, despite the cloud, with a great breakfast at the Cliftonville, including a side-order of fly-past Peregrine (presumably one of those that nests on Cromer Church) and worm-wrangling, Irish-dancing Herring Gulls on the Pitch & Putt course!

Then it was off westwards on the Coasthopper bus, through that familiar litany of placenames: East Runton, West Runton, Beeston Regis, Sheringham, Weybourne, Kelling, Salthouse, Cley, Blakeney, Morston, Stiffkey and finally Wells. A very familiar journey from behind a wheel, never quite enjoying the sense of place, the lanes narrow and not knowing who is coming round the next bend. The elevated podium of the bus allowed the freedom to rove our eyes over the flint walls, across marshes and reedbeds, churches and windmills, passing grazing flocks of Wigeons and Brent Geese, overhead skeins of Pinkfeet, and several, solitary, hunting Marsh Harriers and Red Kites.

Being low tide, Wells-next-the-Sea was Wells-next-the-Mud, but very scenic nonetheless…

Dabchicks dived in the creeks, never surfacing long enough for cold fingers to take a photo, while Oystercatchers probed, Herring Gulls demolished anything vaguely edible and a nearby flint wall sprouted Maidenhair Spleenwort, a rather patchily distributed plant in these parts.

And we ended up by the historic Buttlands for a drink in the Globe Inn, a pause to hatch a plot for future trip to the area, perhaps based right there, to take advantage when we both have bus-passes!

Another very cold evening so we wandered down for hearty, warming fish and chips at No 1 Cromer,  beautifully fresh plaice but with a dauntingly huge pile of chips, before standing outside, listening with exhilaration to the crashing waves below. And still the rain held off, at least until the sharp showers we could see outside as we rounded off a very full day in our hotel bar!

Another day, more grey. But with our return rail journey fast approaching (absolutely remarkable value at under £12 for the two of us!), there was just time again to stand and stare, high tide on the rolling sea, the sound of the breakers echoing through the resonant beach flints, and the looping Fulmars already settling in to their cliffy nesting niches. Sights and sounds to remain with us, until we return…