Taking your pleasures sadly
I expect you've all seen John Betjeman Goes By Train, a 1950s telly discourse on the charms of the branch line (since closed) along the Norfolk coast. During the film the great man avers that Hunstanton should be pronounced "Hunston" and Snettisham as "Snetchum". I'm a bit doubtful about this and, domiciled not far away for some nine years now, have never heard either place pronounced like this. Betjeman's daughter, Candida Lycett-Green, mentioned once that she suffered embarassment in later years because her father taught her as a girl that a well-known Bristol Channel resort was pronounced "Weston-super-Marry.
Anyway, on my few visits to Hunstanton I've never known the weather to be other than vile. Towards the end of the winter, on what seemed, in our back garden, quite a balmy day, we took our dog with us. The poor pooch, swaddled in his doggy overcoat, stood on the pebbles shivering in any icy blast straight from the fjords. On the occasion illustrated, in mid-June, rain slanted unrelentingly down from a sky like a clammy sheet. We took refuge in one of those pubs with a built-out glass structure wherein old-age pensioners tuck into their £6.50 three-course lunches and request glasses of "medium dry white wine" as an accompaniment.
So rather a joyless outing. I took the above during what promised to be a cessation of the rain, but soon proved a mere pause. A few dunlin sheltered in the lee of a groyne. Once we had ventured far from shelter the rain resumed with new tenacity. Having suffered some recent focus malfunctions with my autofocus Fuji GA645Zi ...I'll have to adapt my technique... I once more took up the same maker's GW690 II and used its smallest aperture, f32, to ensure front-to-back sharpness.