The Easterliest Place #Lowestoft #walking

The best laid plans and all that. We are on a visit to Suffolk and had this rather neat plan sketched out. While the Textiliste headed for Beecles and a particularly fine example of Emporia Haberdasheri (I am not aware that any such shops can be categorized as being less than ‘fine’ in truth; their very existence grants them a pass enabling them to skip the awful-to-adequate stages on the retail spectrum) Dog and me were off on a  walk that would take us across country to the east coast at Covehithe and then south into Southwold where we would link up.

That’s before the bloody Germans decided to bugger us around. I’m not entirely sure why we bought a Volkswagon after our love affair with Saabs died alongside the company but we did. It looks nice enough in a sort of oiled woodlouse kind of way and is sufficiently capacious to take Dog, two weekend bags and the sort of paraphernalia you might associate with a peripatetic dressmaker whose been commissioned to clothe the entire Game of Thrones cast, but is in fact what the Textiliste ‘needs’ for a weekend. But boy do the gizmos that keep the wheels moving keep us on our toes.

We were maybe a mile for where we were to be dropped off when a sign like the dashboard had been possessed by astrological aliens lit up and the Textiliste said ‘we’ve gone limp’. Now, stop sniggering at the back, Pendulum Major and pay attention.

‘Limp Mood’ is a technical expression that means you are not totally fucked, just in a transitional state that leads from ‘it was all right when we set off’ to ‘yep, you’re fucked now.’ You have a window, an opportunity to reach a reputable mechanic before everything shuts down, you pop on the hazards and pull out the box of hat pins and the Merkel doll that it has become customary for us to take on long journeys. While you await a tow, you can spend hours happily perforating kapok.

The nearest mechanic, reputable or otherwise was in Lowestoft, some ten miles to the north. On the one hand that seems lucky, serendipitous almost; on the other you only think that if you’ve never been to Lowestoft.

Many people have commented on the fact that the British Isles, when viewed on a map, resembles an old man kneeling down and looking west. If that were so then Kent are his feet and East Anglia his rump. That makes Lowestoft England’s anus.

Still, never say we don’t try and make the best of it. Having been told they would call in a couple of hours with a diagnosis we headed east about half a mile to the coast and then north towards the town. We rationalised things thus:

  1. Lowestoft is out of season so the worst effects of English holiday resorts would be moderated by the fact it was November – namely they would be shut
  2. However, coffee shops would probably remain open for trade so we may well be able to secure a repast; and
  3. My iPad indicated at least three Haberdasheries…

Hmm, well Dog and I supposed we could find somewhere for a bit of a wander.

We’d settled for that coffee when the call came in. Something splenetic in the oil region needed hybridising or some such – I’m not completely au fait with the vital organs of the infernal combustion engine but I think I’m close enough. The result was no, it wouldn’t be ready today but yes tomorrow mid morning would be fine. And before you ask, no we don’t have a spare car you can use, even though they had a forecourt full of them. They were being anti-white-doggist if you ask me which is understandable in cars with predominately black upholstery – his hairs are a right sod to remove.

The Textiliste and I mulled the options. We could take a cab hither and yon or see if we could get a deal on a  hire car. We decided on the latter.

There was a time when my new musical choices tended to be sourced from listening to the radio. These days, having spent unconscionable amounts of time holding for ‘your call is important to us’ to be repeated for the umpteenth occasion I have heard pretty much every known tune and can choose from these playlists. Indeed I was intrigued by one of the messages they intersperse between tracks; ‘we provide a pick up and collection service from wherever you are: work, home, the garage…’ I wondered how they’d react if I said ‘Sweden’.

Eventually that too was sorted but we had to wait until 3.30 for the car to be ready. Time for one of us to haberdash…

Another simple plan; Dog and I would stroll for a while, the Textilsite would survey the opportunities and we could lunch in a  dog friendly establishment – Coffee Heart if you ever find yourself with an hour to kill hereabouts. After… who knew.

We headed for Ness Point which I was told was the easterliest point of mainland Britain. We found it behind the most enormous Bird’s Eye factory. The nearest equivalent on this coast is the Sizewell Nuclear Power Station and the output probably as good for you from each.

It allowed for a couple of arty pics and we two to ponder the purpose of this rotunda and why someone would put a seat around the bottom.

We meandered back to the High Street Haberdashery and were welcomed inside. There amongst the ephemera that is essential to these particular creative arts was a little leaflet. We had our afternoon organised in one.

The ‘Scores’ are the passages that used to lead off the north cliffs down to the fishing boats.

There’s the easterliest church – All Saints in which a  boat floated during the devastating floods of 1953.

Over time inns were set up at the top and the Scores took their names from some of these establishments nearby or some of the longer established families.

The place reeks of smuggling and piracy and, er, fish. Oliver Cromwell stayed in one pub pending quelling a royalist incursion – it took about half an hour.


George II ran aground on his way back from Hanover and stayed the night at the top of another Score before returning to London by road.

There’s a post celebrating the hundredth anniversary of the Armada’s defeat erected in the 1600s.

And a line of tablets with details of the famous ships built hereabouts.

The crinkle crankle walls are a Suffolk speciality – designed to stand as a single course of bricks without buttresses and withstand the easterly winds. They are represented here.

As too are weirdy skeletal fishy sculptures and inserts in the pavements.

And there were steps. Lots and lots of steps. It’s a walk to keep you fit. And you know what? It was very enjoyable.

But this day wouldn’t have ended right if we’d had enough time to do it all. The clock began to tick before we could reach the end – the intriguingly named ‘Ravine’ – so we had to turnabout and go collect the motor.

It was a good day, all in, considering the high degrees of buggeration involved in it. And it proved once again a truism I keep having to learn. My petty prejudices against places should be ignored; give somewhere enough time and you’ll always find something worthwhile about it to justify the visit.

Excluding Milton Keynes, obv.

We may even go back and finish what we started…

About TanGental

My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published several books: a four book series following Harry Spittle as he grows from hapless student to hapless partner in a London law firm; four others in different genres; a book of poetry; four anthologies of short fiction; and a memoir of my mother. I have several more in the pipeline. I have been blogging regularly since 2014, on topic as diverse as: poetry based on famous poems; memories from my life; my garden; my dog; a whole variety of short fiction; my attempts at baking and food; travel and the consequent disasters; theatre, film and book reviews; and the occasional thought piece. Mostly it is whatever takes my fancy. I avoid politics, mostly, and religion, always. I don't mean to upset anyone but if I do, well, sorry and I suggest you go elsewhere. These are my thoughts and no one else is to blame. If you want to nab anything I post, please acknowledge where it came from.
This entry was posted in humour, suffolk, walking and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

44 Responses to The Easterliest Place #Lowestoft #walking

  1. Pingback: Follow Friday – Blog Style – The Haunted Wordsmith

  2. Ritu says:

    Another picturesque walk!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Such an intriguing place! And I like your attitude – beats lying on the ground and having a tantrum! Re the UK map – I was told it looks like an old lady wearing a hat of flowers and feathers and leading a pig, being blown by a strong wind into the west I said ‘You Brits have great imaginations!’ Anyway, that would make Lowestoft the pig’s bum 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Great walk, Geoff. I don’t suppose you had any good fish to eat while there?

    Liked by 1 person

  5. noelleg44 says:

    Great attitude Geoff, and I loved the tour. Now I know what a score really is, not the regrettable data telling me my team got blown out once again, and also that despite my difficulty with stairs, the ones there were be perfect since they are low and wide so time to rest between steps!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Ruth says:

    I love the metal fish-inset steps, what fun! And I got all excited at the thought of ‘Maltesers Close’ before I realise I’d misread it and no chocolate was actually involved – damn! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Erika Kind says:

    Thank you for bringing those beautiful places to our homes, Geoff!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. willowdot21 says:

    A lot of ups and downs 😀😉💜

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Great photos. Some excellent touches in the text – my favourite being ‘the infernal combustion engine. Even Dog looks pissed off

    Liked by 1 person

  10. arlingwoman says:

    Some of the photos are fabulous. I like those walls, the sculpted fish and especially the fish on the walks, one assumes for traction. You made the best of the day and Dog had a good time too, it looks.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. I like that part of the country but have never been to Lowerstoft… that was quite the find.. enjoyed thank you Geoff and assume the car was fixed..xx


  12. okay, that proved to be a better stroll than I expected. Loved the skeletal herring, Someone there has the knack for building something to keep the non-locals wondering – something I do enjoy. Oh, and it took some time and scalp scratching (worry not. Most of it will grow back) but I reasoned out what the rotunda is all about. The clue was that pipe twisting around the building and at the top shooting off to who-knows-where. This is a cleverly designed implement to cull the skateboarders from the population, who we all know can’t resist such structures of public construction. These folks (like graffiti artists, are often responsible for killing the ambiance of an otherwise interesting neighborhood. Structures like this are likely to kill them first. Well done Lowestoft – well done. Too bad you didn’t get any shots of some trying to tackle the challenge.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Pingback: The Easterliest Place #Lowestoft #walking | Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

  14. ellenbest24 says:

    I whipped out the car keys after one glimpse of the street sign,” Malteeser Close.” Disappointment set in as I realised in my excited state; I had misread. Now, the husband is excited by Maltsters … thinking there may be sips of golden nectar somewhere nearby; for a taste test. Realising my mistake I quickly returned my keys to safety and reminded the husband of his knowledge of the real Lowestoft. He was an undercover officer in the Suffolk firearms team, so his view is coloured by seedy shenanigans both on and off the coast. But then, he remembers a time when there were fleets of trawlers and thriving businesses; ones that died a death like the mining towns of Wales. Maybe you are right and we should do as you did and look for the love in each place we visit … with the exception of Milton Keynes.

    Liked by 1 person

  15. Colleen Chesebro says:

    I remember Lowestoft! For a time in 1983, I lived in a tiny town called Attleborough, near Norwich. It’s a story not worth telling, but I did love the location. What a thrill to see Lowestoft come back to life in my memories! Excellent tour! Thank you. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • TanGental says:

      I know Attleborough very well. My mum in law lived three miles up the road in Wymondham until February. It’s not such a little town these days either though since they built the bypass it’s much nicer.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Colleen Chesebro says:

        My ex and I were stationed at RAF Lakenheath back then. I had my youngest daughter there in 1981, born as a Brit. Seems like another lifetime. I loved England. Beautiful country. I enjoyed seeing the countryside again. ❤

        Liked by 1 person

      • TanGental says:

        Ah well, having known my wife since 1976 and all her family being both long term Norfolk residents and classic examples of the NfN characteristic (Normal for Norfolk) I know that quite well. Cousins in Swaffham and East Bradenham and friends all around. Yes it’s spectacular if flat…

        Liked by 1 person

      • Colleen Chesebro says:

        Oh, yes. I had forgotten that. Used to be farmland, I believe. I remember teeny tiny bugs called, wheat bugs, that bothered me every summer. Great memories of freezing in a few bungalows that had no heat except for a small coal fireplace. 😀

        Liked by 1 person

      • TanGental says:

        Those places haven’t improved much!

        Liked by 1 person

      • Colleen Chesebro says:


        Liked by 1 person

  16. Charli Mills says:

    Ah, I could smell the fish from the photographs.

    Liked by 1 person

  17. Pingback: The Festival of Trees, with Children | Chelsea Ann Owens

  18. restlessjo says:

    Rant Score! That has to be the one, Geoff 🙂 🙂 And I do like the little fishes leading the way. In Yorkshire we call them Wynds but I rather like Scores too. Thanks for another good yarn.

    Liked by 1 person

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