I'm packing my bag, I'm getting in my car and I'm going. Going to where the sun shines brighter, the days are lighter and the night rocks on into the morning. I'm going where the lights flash from morning to night, tempting me to empty my pockets of all my loose change. Tempting me to eat and drink my way through a lifetime of calories all in one weekend. Candy floss, burgers, eat-as-much-as-you-like buffets, fish and chips along the seashore. Fairground rides, buckets and spades, all around fun, all around the clock. Adrenaline flowing. I am off for a mini-adventure, a mini-break. As I drive along the flat, open spaces gradually entice me. I am slowing down, no longer driving so fast, my mind drifts away slowly from the temptations of fast food, fast living, fast love. I am being drawn into a different realm: the coast, the countryside and the slower pace of the waterways. The fields have changed since I was last here. The tight bend in the lane brings me to a freshly ploughed field. New life is breaking through: buds, blossom and daffodils are peeping through. I am getting out of the car now, breathing greedily the cool freshness of the air as I scramble down the path following the signs along the board walk to the open space, hidden behind the wooden panels of the bird hide. Looking out over the vast expanse of water, finally I am ready to begin another weekend at my chalet in Hemsby. Story laureate Sue Welfare writes: The Weekender has a really great pace and there is lovely use of language throughout. It is almost lyrical in the way it's been written. | 
