The only way is Suffolk...

It was only as we headed north, past the sign that said 'Welcome to Suffolk' that I realised that I'd never taken poor old Frida out of the county... and she is most definitely NOT an Essex girl... While all sorts of camping and high jinx are planned for the warmer months, a week off school demanded a mini road trip... cross-county at the very least. And so I packed up some supplies, The Babbitts and Peggy Pole-Dancer and off we set for a few days in Southwold.

Having applied scarves and gloves to keep the chilly February weather at bay, we hit the streets, but after a slow trek out of town along pothole ridden lanes, through the harbour and down to the beach, we discovered that infact  the sea air was welcoming and warm for the time of year... Cue beach art, picnics...

 

 

 ...and the most astonishing sunset.

Later that evening Frida would house snacks, dominoes and even a disco, but until then and parked up at the water's edge with sunset fast apporaching, the old girl looked very peaceful and very much at home.

(...definitely not an Essex girl.)

Table Mountain's got nothing on Walton....

Ode to Frida 

'We pole danced on signs and then spent our time

Eating hot chips and it all felt divine.

I'll be back soon, dear Frida, it won't be that long,

'Till you lure me to beaches with tea and a song.

Sometimes it's good just to get out of town, 

With a mug full of tea and a right good sit down...'

Courtesy of Pole-dancing Peggy (...as she is known in certain circles...)

Happiness is.... An empty plate of biscuits...

...or too much vinegar on your chips:

 

...or  spending time with a friend you haven't seen in far too long:

Come back soon Hel... there's adventure afoot..!

... and I haven't eaten all the biscuits... (yet.)

Ladies day.... (not Ascot)

In deepest, darkest February, with still no chance of sunshine and warmth, with thoughts of adventure on the open road bringing with them only the fear of frostbite and overoptimism...it was once again time to tie those scarves a bit tighter around the neck, throw on warm coats and remember that darling Frida is the best imaginable cafe on wheels.

 

The BFFs and their mums piled into the van and headed to the favourite wintry spot and Frida's home from home... The Naze. And while the girls danced on the prom and dug sand moats on the deserted beach, the mums sat blanketed on beach-hut steps with hot coffee and chocolate digestives, talking about their nans and piers and whelks....and that glorious dirty, homely, estuary water that somehow matches even memories of the Indian Ocean....

There's just something about the place...

England, your mothers and daughters adore you..!

(...and there was just time enough for fish & chips!)