Two short posts from Cromer for you. It must be Christmas.
Cromer really is at the end of the world. In fact, if you look at the OS extract you’ll see in the top right hand corner where the sea ends (darker blue) and you fall off.
A lot of Cambridge people, all over 40 of course, seem to go there on the basis it’s a local seaside resort. Folks, it takes over 2 hours to get to Cromer. In that time you could be in Doncaster or Burton. Let that sink in.
And that’s by car. On the train, 2 hours 52 minutes of rattling fun.
We arrived in bright sunshine as the big chill descended, and outside the station were greeted by the sound of car exhausts backfiring, a surefire sign you’re in Norfolk.
The descent into town has more attractive architecture than I remembered from our one previous overnight visit, as I weave past mobility scooters to the Wellington.
There’s some of that jarring ’70s architecture I like,
the promise of “entertainment“,
and a rather older church.
And then, like an eight year old again,
“I can see the seaside”
Cromer shares with Southwold the ignominy of a sole (no pun) Beer Guide entry.
Two great things about the “Welly“. It keeps seaside hours (open all the time), and is possibly the most attractive pub of the year. Which is quite a claim.
We were greeted by a busy, chatty, cheery young Landlord, as Kate Nash’s timeless “Foundations” played in the background.
Thankfully not a beer exhibition, just the 3 beers on, always a good sign. Being daring, I went for the Lighthouse, ambitiously priced at £3.90 a pint.
You pay for the privilege of being in Cromer, but I’d have paid a couple of quid just to sit by the fire with views like this. I did my usual “try all the seats for the best view routine“.
My notes say “reminds me of that Harvey’s pub in Brighton“. This one then.
The fireplace is tremendously warming.
No obvious food trade, but half a dozen drinkers, including a lady drinking the largest Sauvignon Blanc I’ve ever seen as it was her birthday, created a nice little buzz.
The Lighthouse was “Ok”, but of course pubs aren’t about the beer. A little gem.
And then, there it was. The end of the world…