The Three Holes Swimming Club.

Decidedly pleasant little town, March.

Not really photogenic though. It does have a Sainsbury's and yesterday there was a market with a decent butcher and a proper fishmonger. They actually had Arbroath Smokies, guess what we had for breakfast.

Who remembers these? Our first car was a Morris 1100, not in as good nick as this though.

There is also a motorbike dealer trading in some serious American iron, fell in love with the Indian, checked pockets, maybe later.
Today, after our smokie breakfast, we set off for Three Holes, up where Popham's Eau joins the Sixteen Foot Drain.

Lots of these round here, all busily collecting vast subsidies while making a little bit of electricity.

At Low Corner, taking a right onto Popham's Eau which stretches as straight as a die for nigh on three miles.

At this point you become a Norfolk Dumpling. Alternatively you could have an eye poked out and an arm lopped off.

And on it goes, the bridge approaches oh so slowly.

But we got there in the end and moored on the thirty-six hour visitor moorings. How do you work out thirty-six hour moorings? It means we need to either move tomorrow or wait until midnight when our time runs out.
We had a stroll after mooring, they seem to be very keen on culture round here,

both agri and

horti.
We had a couple of drinks in The Globe at Upwell, splendid friendly local. Not posh but we loved it.
Back at the boat and relaxing when a bunch of local youth arrived, dismayed to find us blocking their favourite swimming hole. We reached a compromise, they used the back of the boat as a jumping off point and we supplied a ladder to enable them to climb out. A nicer bunch you wouldn't find anywhere.

Here they are, the Three Holes Swimming Club. It was a pleasure to meet you lads, and lass. Glad you enjoyed your swim.
Moving on tomorrow.

Watch this space.......