I was born by the sea in Sussex. My forefathers were sea captains, so it's no surprise that though I live inland, every now and then I have to recharge my batteries soaking up the salt spray and the smell of seaweed.
I usually take the dog and sometimes a sympathetic daughter to north Norfolk, where the big skies meet the waves.
One of the places I return to regularly is Sheringham – a town steeped in marine history.
You can walk along the promenade under the cliffs to the lifeboat shed in the winter months. Wrapped in warm coat and gloves, watch the setting sun cast a golden glow on the incoming breakers. Above the town, gorse and heather grow in pretty profusion.
In summer, the beach is filled with the chatter of families building castles, and elaborate trenches to the sea.
|Waves breaking on Sheringham beach|
I am filled with memories of days spent with small children and grandparents, sitting against the breakwater clutching buckets and spades, towels and flasks, eating ice creams while keeping a close eye on dripping swimmers.
After a long day in far too much ozone and freshly-cooked fish and chips, a seat at a local theatre is all I ask.
In Sheringham, I have passed many delightful summer evenings being entertained at the Little Theatre.
A drive further afield brings a picnic at Westacre ahead of a performance among the Priory ruins, or a run into the city a first class drama at the Norwich Theatre Royal, which has become a kind of spiritual home to me over the last few years.
Good wine and stimulating company brings to an end a perfect day. Just some of the many reasons I have spent more than 25 years in this lovely county when I intended to stay for just two.