So there I was yesterday with stiff quads due to not usually climbing up hills in the flatlands of Suffolk (there aren’t any!).  Sam mentioned a footpath / bridleway near to the entrance of our holiday park that seemed on the level, and so I agreed to meander down there with him and discover where it led to.

To start with all I could see were horse droppings festering in the afternoon sun, but as we walked on further the road dipped downwards and the old quads started complaining again.  However, there appeared before my eyes what I could only describe as  ‘Millionaire’s Row’ – superb houses, some with swimming pools, in spacious grounds tucked away in a private lane leading to Seagrove Bay, a small beach that we hadn’t known was there.

We sat for a while on a bench facing the sea.  Sam, as usual, wanted to explore (my grandmother would have said that ‘his arse was making buttons’).  He felt certain that a small wooden bridge he could see to his right would lead to a path going up and around the bay, which in turn would be a short cut back to our own beach at St. Helen’s.

So up got Stevie, rather reluctantly I might add, from her resting place.  We walked across the bridge and sure enough there was a path, with a notice that it was ‘treacherous in wet weather’, winding through woodland.  I picked my way carefully upwards over tree roots and uneven ground,  knowing that the unpleasant downhill descent with complaining quads would be a reality sooner or later.

Sooner, in fact.  I followed  Sam slowly down a flight of steep steps leading to our beach.  But hey, I  looked around for the familiar sight of the café with its red sun umbrellas outside which strangely enough was not to my right in the distance.  Sam uttered something not quite audible.

So where were we?  Neither of us knew.  A lovely sandy beach stretched out before us, but having never been there before we had no idea if there were any similar paths leading back to our own beach. Therefore it was a case of backtracking along Millionaire’s Row and avoiding the horse dung.

I spent the afternoon watching the washing dry on our decking, quite certain that my poor old quads would lock up in protest if I ventured forth on any more expeditions that day.  Sam did his homework on Google and found out that we had unexpectedly arrived at Priory Bay, and that our own beach was the next one further around (pity that neither of us had taken our phones with us!).

Sam as I write is jet-washing the decking in preparation for 12 of his relatives arriving tomorrow.  Where they are all going to sit I have no idea, as we only have 7 chairs…