I recently spent a few days with Tom and Molly in charming Norfolk. One rainy afternoon we bravely went swimming in the sea at Stiffkey (pronounced Stew-key, obviously). The walk there was long and Game-of-Thrones-level arduous through the salt marshes which are beautiful in a bleak way, forging channels and sliding through clayish mud. The sea itself was cold enough to set the blood singing and we paddled about swallowing salt and talking about selkies. Teeth chattering, we hauled ourselves out and legged it back as fast as we could to our reward of Tunnocks-style teacakes from the bakery down the road.
