These are weird, weird times.

Not at all what we'd hoped to experience in our Big OE...

The news bulletins are apocalyptic. New restrictions and recommendations are emerging so fast it's hard to keep on top of them.

We're still here in Cromer. We're hoping to see our family in about 10 days' time. But how that will play out we don't know. We daren't stay with them. Presumably there can be no hugs, no kisses. Even a shared cup of tea seems somehow risky.

The major driving-force of this trip was to visit older family -- and that's exactly what we can't freely do.

What wouldn't we give to be staying with them right now in their cosy house, watching TV altogether, and sharing stories? Whoever could have envisaged such a simple ambition all going so terribly awry?

And how should we play our post-UK plans? Even if we're lucky enough not to get sick, the chances of our being able to travel overland to Istanbul without being stopped or quarantined seem almost zero. Yet at this precise moment, no formal injunction -- of the sort that would activate our insurance cover -- is in place.

We've already lost one train fare, two hefty ferry fares, and possibly the cost of a night's accommodation, on account of plans that we proactively changed. We're confident we did the right thing -- given the wisdom available to us at the time -- but we're unkeen to jump the gun on the next set of travel commitments.

It's stressful, there's no doubt of that.

But of course there are millions who are much worse off than we are...

In the midst of all this, with no real clue as to what is now the wisest course of action, Cromer feels like a good place to be.

We walk a lot. Fresh sea air and exercise feel like things it's good to get lots of at the moment.

We shop for food (briefly and carefully). We patronize cafes that have plenty of space and not too many customers. And that's it. No public transport. No museums. No cinemas. No busy places.

Thankfully, it's great walking country.

On Thursday we did the Big Walk. Out on the coast path to Sheringham, via the Beeston Bump, and then back via the sunken lanes of the Beacon Hill area.

"Sheringham sits in a dip of the Cromer Ridge, an eight-mile long tideline of sands and gravels left 450,000 years ago when massive glaciers retreated east and the North Sea flooded in." It's all very impressive.














Yesterday, we returned to Overstrand, heading out along the coast again, but back this time via some of Norfolk's "quiet lanes".


And, having largely bypassed West Runton on Thursday, in our bid to get to Sheringham, we returned today. This is where the West Runton Mammoth was found, back in 1990. As well as a spectacular beach, the village has a pretty church, Holy Trinity, and -- not a surprise -- some lovely flint houses.








You can return to Cromer via footpaths that take you round the back of East Runton. More flint houses. I never feel as though I've seen too many flint houses.



All this is extremely picturesque and rewarding.

If only the backdrop were not so concerning...