I think it was Thomas Wolfe who said you can never go back. Well, Thomas, I beg to differ.
I stood outside 17 Warwick Street today…the place I called home for a couple of years some thirty years ago. To be fair, it might have been number 19, but let’s not quibble over such details.
From there we wandered around the University of East Anglia, buzzing with freshers. My old first-year accommodation has been flattened and replaced with something less reminiscent of a Scandinavian prison. Some of the brutalist blocks now sport bold glass extensions (a nod to light perhaps, or just fashion). The Sainsbury Centre was still gleaming and full of extraordinary art and nary an Avenger in sight. The campus itself felt smaller, and the students younger than I’ve ever been, but it was good to see all that glass and concrete again.
Lunch was at a 17th-century coach house (as you do), before heading back into Norwich while the shops were still open. It’s a lovely city… old, like properly old, but vibrant and alive. We browsed the perfectly eclectic Book Hive, then spent a very happy hour poking about the cathedral (still very much Salisbury’s poor cousin – yep, I went there). And to round it off, we snagged a couple of M&S salads at end-of-day bargain prices.
The Obligatory Blog 