Richard's van broke down a couple of weeks ago & we bought a new (well VERY second hand) one. It is the same as his previous one so he took a whole load of bits & pieces off the old one & put them on the new one. A very satisfying job indeed. We towed the old one to Mellors metals. An exciting scrap yard near us, where the giant claw could come down at any time & squash you like an ant. All the fun of the fair & you get paid for it by the scrap dealer's very clean daughter.
Then after our sojourn to Sunderland Point a few weeks ago and a great deal of discussion with the all knowing fishermen & women of the North West; we decided "to Hell with the expense", we would put a diesel motor into the boat. We had one that we bought from a friend where our boat lies, but it was attched to a compressor.....more rust, diesel & dirt to get it off the compressor and to take it to....
Mr Diesel' himself, Brian Greenwood.
Brian has every man's ideal job, in every boy's ideal location. He has a workshop on what's known as 'The Broads' . With a view of boats & ducks & riverland. An Arthur Ransome story is set very nearby and there is a museum of the Broads too where these photos were taken of Ricardo in his element.
Mmmmmmmmm motors'
Mmmmmm canvas covers
Here's a picture of the engine that we will replace in the boat, an Albin petrol job, a collectors item we are told.
Very appropriate as anniversary number four is fruit & flowers. (Much better than gold or silver I reckon). Suze always remembers our wedding because when Richard came along she stopped getting phone calls from me sobbing about how tortuous my life was...a huge relief I'm sure.
A walk to the river past West Harling Church.
Some tree climbing with Mumma & cousin Florence. (Well maybe he'll be old enough next year.)
A celebratory dinner with a Vietnamese feast.
A strawberry tart, made by his Aunty Joey. 
A song from Uncle Ricardo.
A new push along thingy that beeps & sparkles. 
Many tears & a few moving speeches.
Ricardo & I went back to Harriet's & picked masses of them.
Here's a photo of the jelly we made from one bowl full. We still have another 3 kilo's in the freezer. 
The very name reeks of isolation for when the tide comes in this tiny village which was once a thriving port is cut asunder from the main land and you can easily be caught in a swirling current that could drag you quickly out to sea. 
A young black West Indian slave had come with his master to this God forsaken outpost and died. He was buried on unconsecrated ground, in a windswept spot looking out to sea.
Luckily there was some sun & the favourite green dress had an outing too.
The bacon butty by the mere at Creake abbey
An absolute golden opportunity..... few could say they had had the pleasure.
It started out as the most fabulous experience but started to get a bit tedious when we realised it had taken us 3 hours to strip the currants off ONE BUSH. (No lunch in the mean time, just some builders strength tea.)
It's great to see this lovely place through someone elses eyes.
