Once or twice a year a brave band of moped nutters get together for the famous Norfolk Crab Run.
The day started off well with Nick having a puncture in his front wheel. So it was off to the local tyre depot to get them mended.
We got bemused looks from the local tyre fitters when we rolled up - who rightly assumed an invasion of weirdos from another county! "Don't do bike tyres 'ere mate, ain't done 'em for years" the lad exclaimed. "But there's a bicycle repairman up the road though!"
So, armed with directions and that warm welcome still ringing in our ears, we managed to hunt out the legendary "Bicycle Repairman of Holt", who was either seriously into cross dressing or - as we later decided - a woman.
Anyway after relieving Nick of £1.75 (in itself no mean feat) we raced back to the battered Toyota pick-up to repair the puncture. After a few minutes of waving the inner tube mysteriously in front of his face, Nick located the puncture, repaired it, then repeated the whole process in order to locate the other one.
Job done, we set off. On the way we decided to visit that well-known Norfolk tourist attraction: the Shell Museum at Glandford, which was of course, closed. Undaunted, we continued down the lane to brave the swirling treacherous rapids which locals refer to as "the ford". This was pretty stupid in hindsight, as the carb of the solo is located at the bottom of the engine, and the technology to run a two-stroke in water has yet to be invented. Thankfully, it made it through and we continued on our crusade through Sheringham via the costal road until arriving at "The spiritual epicentre of the Crustacean" - Cromer.
After debating the pros and cons of all the various fishmongers, we finally went with... the cheapest. We were also attracted by three nice looking lobsters - we bagged them as well.
Next stop was obvious: the pub. Cod & chips all round washed down with a delicious pint of Adnams. Then it was back to the car park in order to mock Lawrence for buying a car park ticket for his bike - der! And also, as luck would have it, to retrieve his glove that escaped earlier on the way up there.
On the way back we went for a wander in some National Trust wood type thing that was full of trees, then on to "Pretty Corner" for afternoon tea. We came to the conclusion that it was named after the waitress and not the gardens - a case which was settled by Lawrence's willingness to pay the bill.
Alternatively it may have had something to do with the sky, which was turning very gloomy by that time. But whatever the reason we all decided to bugger off back to Holt and pose for the obligatory "trophy photo".
Can't wait for next time!
You won't find the "Famous Norfolk Crab Run" in any calendar of events - it's one of many similar runs around the country that 'just happen'. A group of friends decide to have a day out on mopeds - no club, no organisation, no bureaucracy, no nuffin'.
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