Vassalage

Frank had always considered the world of work as something that other people undertook in a much more forthright and stolid approach than he. His time had however, come.  Never really understanding why people so put their all into work, it hadn’t occurred to Frank to ‘graft’, or ‘steam in’ or heaven forefend ‘enjoy’ the pecuniary  pleasures of ‘fulfilling’ employment. But as the years had progressed and for no other real reason than a ‘change’; Frank had decided to pull himself up by the bootstraps and submit to a hard days work for a hard day’s pay…………Frank’s verdict…... very overrated.

So all work and no play has taken a toll on Frank’s cyber visitor numbers, and Frank forever railing, attempted some form of redress. If career (not a word prolific in it’s associations with Frank) came before the WildsofNorfolk then career must go, surely the pressure of both would be too much for any mortal to bear.

‘Pressure, are you the sort of person, Frank, that can stand the pressure, ……. or would you just buckle’. One of the key questions in an interview Frank had once attended, there being no coherent response at the time an offer letter was not forth coming. It was obvious from the very outset to all concerned, the two big blokes (interviewers) and little Frank , sitting uncomfortably and intimating close around that tiny table; that Frank’s slight frame , and teetering mental fortitude couldn’t bear the pressure associated with the skin of a bloody rice pudding, and that, furthermore sir, if ever the yoke of the very word ‘buckler’ fitted a pair of shoulders, Frank’s were it.

So having worked and having buckled, Frank returned to the world of the broads with the distracted whimper that was his usual entrance.

Harry wasn’t there as they arrived, bit of an April wind for company as they rounded the cut & out across the beloved Hickling. The canoe lifted and plunged around in the chop, but the heading wind always made our oddball pair feel like they were getting somewhere, so with reckless abandon they paddled out into the middle, heads down laughing and splashing as they went.

Out through White Slea a few sailing craft majestically pitching around, set the scene. With Harriers aloft and the reeds swirling about the prospect was of a fine spring day.

Taking the usual route, Meadow Dyke beckoned and afforded a little shelter, they slowed pace. Rounding the bend, the Guide spotted a low shape in the water ahead & paddling quickly over they confronted a water vole swimming nervously across, the sun sparkling on his eye & his furry tail still dry on top. Still only ten o’clock in the morning this event called for an early dinner and ritual brew.

The guide set up the kettle , amid the call of warblers various, Grasshopper   Chettis and Chiff Chaff the obvious ones , Reed and Sedge the more difficult to discern.  

Frank hunted around for some sticks & dry grass, soon the old kettle was alight and  heating up & food was liberated from the dinner box, bugger waiting when you’re hungry, tuck in & the forage for some more when the hunger returns.  After dinner there was felt a need to ensure a contingent against any future appetite meted out by the day so an expedition to the shop at Horsy was contemplated. This sort of dependence on anything outside their own wits and provisions didn’t feel right to Frank & the Guide but the though of a small packet of fruit shortcake, and further brew drew them on like a veritable magnet .

Three bloody sixty, Christ there wasn’t enough money in the pot to pay Harry when they got back…… and Harry, oh yes,  as well known of old was always, always there.

Still as the small and simple fare had turned into chocolate and dustbin lid sized cookies  they thought they’d take their chances. Turning around and back towards Heigham Sound a flock of Cranes , thirteen in number wheeled around on a thermal, in the same sky as four displaying Marsh Harriers and some other avian friends completed the scene.

Across the Sound and down to Somerton, they didn’t see a boat at all, the odd flitting ‘Beardie’ & the first Terns and Swallows of the season kept them company until a nice grassy bank invited another brew and a doze in the afternoon.

 Paddling back into the cut, old Harry was, of course,  ‘there’ & following discussions on water level, wildlife & slipway a scratching around for pennies provided enough to support the staithe’s  kind offer of a launch for the princely sum of two pounds.

Better value for money, Frank feared, would be extremely hard to discover elsewhere!

See you next time.

Read past entries

Wilds of Norfolk was set up because of our unquenchable enthusiasm for the Norfolk Broads,  our small part of the natural world. We thought we'd like to try and give something back by helping other people enjoy the countryside and it's wildlife as well as do our own little bit to promote an interest in the natural world and it's conservation , not only for the wildlife but for the sheer exuberance of the precious life we're lucky enough to get the chance to live.

Webmaster:  Old Frank , 1 Hall Cottages Freethorpe Road Southwood Norfolk NR13 3LR
copyright Wilds of  Norfolk 2003,