On manoeuvres along the Suffolk/Norfolk border
This little sortie into Suffolk...or is it Norfolk...or is it both? I get dizzy travelling that road from the M11 to Brandon, just a stone-curlew’s throw from Thetford Forest. The signs say welcome to Suffolk, then Cambridgeshire then Suffolk again or Norfolk or somewhere then the screeching of tyres and your passengers fly across the car interior as you nearly miss the entrance to Weeting Heath. Attention! Myself and my accomplice on this particular mission, Brenda, are greeted by a gentleman who reminds me of the bull elephant in the Jungle Book. The khaki shorts, handlebar moustache and general air of a time not out of place in the time of the Raj. I’m being unfair as the 'major' is a calm and caring man who has always been stationed at Weeting since I can ever remember. He talks about a time when he lived in central Africa and I can see it. I could listen to his banter all day but we had come to see the Stone-curlews and hopefully the regular Spotted Flycatcher that fr...