Fish and Chips

Good Friday and we headed out to the coast. The plan was to visit a windmill... which we did, this one, scared the bejesus out of me. How many floors do windmills have? Five. And how windy was it exactly? Veeeeeeeery. Shame it wasn't working, but it'd have probably taken off if it was. Still, we got a sticker for making it to the top.

On the way though, we stopped off at Wells-next-the-sea for fish and chips. We ate in for a change. The fish was amazing, the surroundings less so. I find it odd how a place can look like a fast food joint - the illuminated price list above the counter, the horrid wipe-clean plastic tables and metal chairs - and yet they serve the most sublime food. What ever happened to big wooden tables and a bit of seaside charm?

Or perhaps they need to look this garish to attract the customers these days. Which reminds me, we must visit Mrs T's in Southwold again soon. Fish and chips served from a wooden hut by the quay. Proper.