On Monday people had been requested not to use cafes, pubs, and restaurants. Yesterday, all these places were formally told to close.

At the moment, though, we can still go out. We're not under total lockdown, as people are in many places around the world. Our spirits have been struggling since that miserable Thursday, and walking has been our only consolation.

So we continue to criss-cross Poppyland.

The sound of the birds; the sight of the plumping buds, braving the recent cold easterlies to keep life going for another year; the abundance of primroses, violets, daffodils, and so many more bright spring flowers -- it all whispers, "Don't give up. Don't give up. Don't give up."

The people we see out using the footpaths are very responsible and courteous in their distancing practices. So I hope the government won't try to curtail activities that are so good for our bodies and our sore souls.

Yesterday, we walked again to Sheringham. We used a different combination of inland tracks to create a route that was largely new.

Pretty much by accident we came across the Priory of St Mary in the Meadow, in Beeston Regis. This was founded in 1216 for a community of four canons, who "belonged to the Order of Peterstone, a small and somewhat mysterious Norfolk-based religious order". The Priory was one of the victims of Henry VIII, and was closed in 1536.







Sheringham and the coast were being flayed by a vicious easterly yesterday, and having huddled in a draughty shelter to eat a brief and uncomfortable lunch, we decided to also go back via the inland route.



Today, we pressed on from Northrepps to Southrepps via the Overstrand circular walk.

Along sheltered little paths, where we could hear the larks in the meadows. Across huge fields, where all we could hear was the sound of the wind in our ears.



And into Southrepps, with its lovely church of St James.

I will keep such good memories of this place. It was still open, so we could enjoy the history, and just sit quietly for a while. It offered toilets (a feature that has acquired massive usefulness now that cafes and pubs are shut). It somehow conveyed hope and reassurance.









And outside there's this magical bench, which manages to catch the sun and avoid the east wind. Here you can eat chocolate, and wish you never had to leave.


A little further along, you come to a couple of Norfolk's "shrieking pits" -- the remains of medieval iron-ore pits, which have become the stuff of numerous sad legends over the years.



Then you're back in Overstrand again, noting the progression of the magnolias:


And the take-away chippy just down the road from us was still frying for Saturday lunch...

I said, in the last post, that I see daffodils as a sign of hope.

But they're not immune to the changing times: