The wonder of worm fuel

Rockland, Norfolk She drops, then pounces, twisting foot to beak, and pulling on the lank, pink flesh

Traditionally each village in the Broads had what's called a staithe, a tiny "port" linking it commercially to the wider regional river system. Rockland's is among the prettiest: a rectangular tidal pool, edged with steel-plate revetments and dotted with mooring posts, to which are attached idle dayboats with names like Windsong.

On one side is a young oak grove that remains an almost permanent sump of winter shadow gathered over a neatly mown lawn with two slatted benches. Aside from the occasional fisherman plodding to his pitch, the grove is entirely untenanted and quiet, but for its one winter robin and, now, a female kestrel.