All good things must one day come to an end, and so it was that I found myself leaving behind the turrets and mosaics of Gaudi‘s Barcelona and returning to the quiet plains of Suffolk. Bitter-sweet though this change of scenery was – England’s cold and dark winter is by no means its strong point – it is always nice to come home.
Exciting prospects awaited me on my return to Southwold, the town the Guardian recently dubbed “most bourgeois seaside resort in Britain”. Hanging my degree on the wall and gleefully joining the thousands of unemployed graduates, I have been enjoying the delightful challenge of jobhunting during a double-dip recession.
Before you brand me a joyless cynic, its not all doom and gloom! The best news is that Ay Caramba has expanded onto the airwaves. Now you can enjoy surprising titbits of news and music on 105fm, Blyth Valley Community Radio, on Fridays from 11-12am. Join me in my search to discover Suffolk’s hottest unearthed musical talent, as well as some melodious audio flavours from around the globe.
The second revelation that finally hit home when returning to the East Coast, was that you don’t have to venture more than a mile away to find what many folk, albeit biased locals, would call the World’s Most Beautiful Beach. Now I’ve seen the bronzed bums of Rio, balmy Belizean beaches and the calm waters of the Caribbean, but there sure ain’t nothing like Cove Hithe Beach on a crisp winter’s day.
The tide was as high as it could be, engulfing the entire coastal strip and merging with the mere to form a flowing path out to sea. The sun was setting below blue-hewn clouds, casting a golden glow over the perfectly striped stubs of the corn fields. Flocks of geese swooped in arrows through the sky and unlike Barcelona’s sandy meat market, no one was around to temper the mood – least of all a shrill Chinese woman intent on selling me a massage, which for the record, was more painful than relaxing.
In short, you can’t beat Cove Hithe for beaches, and Southwold and Walberswick ain’t bad either.
I even spotted a strange surprise, a true “Ay Caramba!” moment. A local man, levitating in his wellies a few feet above the path!
Do you know this man? It must be something in the Suffolk air…