Usually summer brings a bit of frantic story telling.  Oh my word, the tourists!  What they say, where they’re from, what they wear!  Ah, the crowds, the peeing dogs, the snivelling children, the cackling grannies, the world-weary husbands.  It’s usually a never-ending litany of trivial dilemmas, amusing debate and riveting humour.

 On a good summer’s day (rare I know) we have been known to rush from stall to stall pointing out the strangers and marvelling over the sight of actual foreigners.  How countrified we are, with our mouths gaping and eyes swivelling in marvel at the streams of unidentifiable folk.

Sweaty brows ‘normally’ ensue long days in hot pursuit of the travelling pound. 

Pah!  Not this summer.

 I notice the Tourism awards are up for nomination.  Well I haven’t noticed the big net dragging them in this summer so I wonder where the awards will fall.  Not even a double-deckered, tinted windowed, luxury liner of a coach full of purple tinted hair dos has glided by our hungry and expectant market towns as far as the eye can see this summer. 

 Usually they are shipping them out toward Norwich.  Oh thanks for the helping hand in rural commerce.  I think not!

 You might have gathered by now that after the winter of our discontent this is no midsummer dream.  Will no one hear our feverish cry?  Demolish the extortionate car parking fees and beg anyone with a half decent income to, uh oh, I was going to say hop on a train and head this way.  We won’t even go down that route because the engine will no doubt fail and we’ll be delayed and several vouchers later… no I’ll leave it.

 Actually the best trains in this county seem to run at Sheringham and they steam along nicely.  Perhaps they should increase the route to at least cover East Anglia.

 Now is the time to blame the weather.  Well it hasn’t been particularly good I will admit and with a toss up between Lanzarote and hurricane Annie on the North Norfolk coast I suppose we are always going to lose.  The ones left behind do seem to possess certain stoicism but thanks to our expensive economy, after the hotel bill, the boat hire charge, the car parking charge etc there’s little left for the luxuries in life.

 Where are all the shopaholics?  That’s what I| want to know.  Let me know the region they all holiday in and I’ll be there, Costa de la Open Purse, no comments about bills, just unadulterated guilt-free shopping.  Sounds like heaven.  Price no object, feverish spending, multiple purchases and eyes popping with excitement, that’s what we want.  Perhaps the tourist board could target the spenders instead of the ‘haven’t got a penny crowd’.

 Anyway, that’s my hissy fit over with.  I’m going to put on my mackintosh and carry on regardless.