And I know which one I like the best.
After East Runton I drove east around the Norfolk Coast, which was enlightening. If North Norfolk is Chelsea on Sea, this is Dagenham on Sea. Lots of run-down, beaten-up prefab huts masquerading as seaside villas.
Lots of potential surfing beaches, but not in the conditions I saw them. But I did go via California:
I was expecting sunshine, palm trees and crooning beach boys. Instead I found this:
Tempting though it might be to say I've surfed in California, it wasn't quite tempting enough, so I headed on to Lowestoft, a fairly charmless, semi-industrial port with a pier and a nice beach. Its main attraction was that it's the most easterly point in Britain, and therefore somewhere I wanted to surf.
This part of East Anglia bills itself as The Sunrise Coast. When I woke up on Friday, it would have had trouble calling itself The Horizon Coast. I suspect The Drizzle Coast isn't going to bring in the punters.
The forecast was for strong on-shore wind and waist-high slop. And sure enough, that's what I got. Plus rain.
You know it's not ideal when the kite-surfers are out.
Still, I did what I had to do. What can I tell you? It was rubbish. But fun rubbish, for some reason. Perhaps because conditions were so appalling. After 40 minutes catching whitewash and having cold water (5ยบ, apparently) flushed down my back, I got out and headed for civilisation for a few days.
But not before one of my tyres decided it had had enough. Fortunately it didn't take me with it, and instead it let me down gently.
But it was worth it, for the charming walk from Henley on Thames to Shiplake, via lots of fields and a nice pub, in the company of several of her friends. Though even a charming walk can feel like a forced march when you've got a hangover.
Lots of potential surfing beaches, but not in the conditions I saw them. But I did go via California: 
I was expecting sunshine, palm trees and crooning beach boys. Instead I found this:
Tempting though it might be to say I've surfed in California, it wasn't quite tempting enough, so I headed on to Lowestoft, a fairly charmless, semi-industrial port with a pier and a nice beach. Its main attraction was that it's the most easterly point in Britain, and therefore somewhere I wanted to surf.
The forecast was for strong on-shore wind and waist-high slop. And sure enough, that's what I got. Plus rain.
You know it's not ideal when the kite-surfers are out.
Considering I've been idling around eating Christmas cake for four weeks, it was quite a good session. Chest high, peeling nicely, and a few reasonably long rides. Not very powerful, but this is Norfolk, so you don't really expect power. If only it wasn't so cold! There wasn't a breath of wind, but even so, every time you hit the water, it's a real slap in the face.
