No family members live in the Walberswick village anymore, so I had booked a room at the largest of the local pubs called The Anchor.
Rodney deposited me in the gravel driveway of the pub on this partially sunny Sunday in June where some sort of “tapas” was going on to the left side of the entrance; smoke emanating from grilling meats with freshly made salads already laid out on a welcome table. It looked and smelled very good, but I wanted to get settled in my room.
And what a room…a light filled room on the top floor of the pub overlooking the Anchor’s garden with the North Sea in the distance.
After setting in, which meant putting down my suitcase and immediately taking iPad photos before I messed the room up, I walked up the village street to see what I could see. Oh dear, it is the same, But SO NOT THE SAME. Once a remote retreat, it now bustles on a Sunday in June with lots of walkers, bicyclists, and zippy expensive cars; school is not out yet. Walberswick has become positively trendy and moneyed! But still with a lovely away-from-the-city to the quaint English seaside/country village feel. Adrian Tierney Jones writing for The Daily Telegraph said, “The village is so pretty it hurts: roses around the doors, a pristine village green, waves gently lapping against the beach.”
Up the village street, I did not stop long to look at our old cottage; all of its simplicity in architecture has been altered to do something modernized and rather ghastly. Its old world 500 year-old unique charm GONE!
Suddenly, I was hungry and thirsty.
Back at The Anchor, I found a table on their back patio and ordered a pint of lager and fish soup with rouille and croutons. I was alone. Everybody I could see was with somebody. I sipped my pint a, dipped into the delicious soup and was somewhat revived.