By The Water's Edge

Hedgerow birds may be declining in alarming numbers, but there's no shortage of seabirds. The haunting, liquid warble of the curlew filled the air along the River Alde as I walked in dazzling sunshine yesterday, and the water's edge thronged with busy small white bodies. The tide was half in, the air still and clear, so it was a surprise to see the huge wherry, red sails hanging loose, adrift in the stillness. It's normally parked by the Maltings, though visitor trips down to the sea and back are a highlight of summer. It was barely moving, but as I watched it drifted slowly back towards its berth. Such a magnificent, unexpected sight. These wherries once worked the Norfolk Broads and coastal region off Lowestoft and Great Yarmouth in great numbers, but there are barely a handful of them left. To see this one in full flight whirling along the Alde past ancient, isolated Iken Church, tacking in great arcs with its massive sails straining against the wind, is unforgettable. Today it might have been limping but it was still impressive despite a lack of power.

The sunset that followed this heavenly day was leisurely and dramatic, the sky shot with exotic crimsons, mauves, purples and pinks spreading ever further as the sun disappeared. I followed it back in the car, seeing and losing the full globe until, back in my kitchen, I watched the drama unfold from the window. It was only as I unpacked my shopping that I realised I had boobed. If my Waitrose shop includes a stop in the cafe I usually throw a few things into my trolley to show it is taken, and then remove them later. How did I not notice these unwanted items at the checkout: three extortionately priced bunches of asparagus freighted from the other side of the world?