Cley next the Sea – Norfolk

by

A great tribute to Klausbernd and Cley! 🙂
Eine großartige Hommage in Bild und Worten an Klausbernd und Cley. Beide liebe ich vom ganzen Herzen. Ich bin gerührt. Hab herzlichen Dank, lieber Achim. “Junge, komm bald wieder!” 🙂
Here’s to you! Cheers! – Dina

Achim writes:

Ich übersetze mal mit Google Translator: Mistakes shouldn’t be taken for granted 🙂
The journeys through the granary of England offer views of a richly laden virtual breakfast table. Cereals, honey, jam and the goo of fried eggs in the microwave. In the bus, fueled by the narrowest streets, I hope that the roads may be widened until they fall over the cliffs of Dover, the spitzhackigen coasts of Cornwall and the misty-gray beaches of Cumbria in the waves. Always better than to be afraid to pooch, rose bushes and tree tops, cut up by the knife threads double-decker companion, the lawn around his neck. The Busbrausen is an extension of the physical experience horizon. My ass can sing a song about it. And my elderly bone density also. Cooped up in the seat linkage, become deaf. My limbs and muscles sing the chorus of a prosecution. How chickens clucking in the hen batteries for space that does not deserve. Each trip ends with a piece of growing cold metal on the anvil of confinement. Just rejoining the land of the living.
Cley next the Sea is the pearl that is found after you have broken a hundred thousand mussels. The breath of forgetfulness blows over it. Fox and hare say goodnight. But it is also an object of the owl of Minerva, where it should not find its way back to Athens. Nutty, a little god lost, shrill, a sowing of Bohème, a sewing box of eccentricity. And there it has slyly midst Bernd Klaus Vollmar. From the serene blue sky. Hospitable he is, of course. A paragon of loquacity, but overweight, walking on a patchwork of subjects, a corner Springer, a cliff diver. And he seems, he will forgive me (or it makes him proud nigh, and the ways in Cley are sometimes puzzling) to be stuck in a melange of 68s, Hippie Time and Woodstock, psychoanalysis and herbalist. A veritable self he is. His garden, clear English. His library breaks all chains. A K2 of the most beautiful, strangest and most erotic treasure trove of fiction, the color and symbol studies, philosophy, art history and much, much more. A treasure island.
A sympathetic with a CV, to which I could only tie with five other own life. All in all, a person who fits Cley like the proverbial fist. Here’s to you, Klaus, Bernd.

A Readmill of my mind

Die Fahrten durch die Kornkammer Englands bieten Blicke über einen reich gedeckten virtuellen Frühstückstisch. Cerealien,  Honig, Marmelade und der Glibber von Spiegeleiern aus der Mikrowelle. Im Bus, der durch die engsten Straßen heizt, wünsche ich mir, dass die Straßen sich verbreitern mögen, bis sie über die Klippen Dovers, die spitzhackigen Küsten Cornwalls und die nebelgrauen Strände Cumbrias in die Wellen stürzen. Allemal besser, als sich um Hündchen, Rosenhecken und Baumwipfel zu ängstigen, zerschnitten von den Messergewinden doppelstöckiger Gefährte, die um Kopf und Kragen rasen. Das Busbrausen ist eine Erweiterung des körperlichen Erfahrungshorizonts. Mein Hintern kann ein Lied davon singen. Und meine Seniorenknochendichte auch. Eingepfercht in das Sitzgestänge, taub geworden. Meine Gliedmaßen und Muskeln singen den Chor einer Anklage. Wie Hühner, die in den Legebatterien nach Raum gackern, der ihnen nicht zusteht. Jede Fahrt endet mit einem Stück erkaltenden Metalls auf dem Amboss der Beengtheit. Just rejoining the land of the…

View original post 208 more words

54 thoughts

  1. Great photos of KB, and Cley of course! Sorry I cannot read the text, as I do not speak German. One of these days, you two will have to translate it for us.
    Love and best wishes from Beetley. Pete and Ollie. X

    Like

    Reply

  2. Ich übersetze mal mit Google Translator: Mistakes shouldn’t be taken for granted 🙂
    The journeys through the granary of England offer views of a richly laden virtual breakfast table. Cereals, honey, jam and the goo of fried eggs in the microwave. In the bus, fueled by the narrowest streets, I hope that the roads may be widened until they fall over the cliffs of Dover, the spitzhackigen coasts of Cornwall and the misty-gray beaches of Cumbria in the waves. Always better than to be afraid to pooch, rose bushes and tree tops, cut up by the knife threads double-decker companion, the lawn around his neck. The Busbrausen is an extension of the physical experience horizon. My ass can sing a song about it. And my elderly bone density also. Cooped up in the seat linkage, become deaf. My limbs and muscles sing the chorus of a prosecution. How chickens clucking in the hen batteries for space that does not deserve. Each trip ends with a piece of growing cold metal on the anvil of confinement. Just rejoining the land of the living.
    Cley next the Sea is the pearl that is found after you have broken a hundred thousand mussels. The breath of forgetfulness blows over it. Fox and hare say goodnight. But it is also an object of the owl of Minerva, where it should not find its way back to Athens. Nutty, a little god lost, shrill, a sowing of Bohème, a sewing box of eccentricity. And there it has slyly midst Bernd Klaus Vollmar. From the serene blue sky. Hospitable he is, of course. A paragon of loquacity, but overweight, walking on a patchwork of subjects, a corner Springer, a cliff diver. And he seems, he will forgive me (or it makes him proud nigh, and the ways in Cley are sometimes puzzling) to be stuck in a melange of 68s, Hippie Time and Woodstock, psychoanalysis and herbalist. A veritable self he is. His garden, clear English. His library breaks all chains. A K2 of the most beautiful, strangest and most erotic treasure trove of fiction, the color and symbol studies, philosophy, art history and much, much more. A treasure island.
    A sympathetic with a CV, to which I could only tie with five other own life. All in all, a person who fits Cley like the proverbial fist. Here’s to you, Klaus, Bernd.

    Like

    Reply

    • Ganz lieben Dank, euch beiden in Frankfurt 🙂
      Ihr seid willkommen.
      Ab kommender Woche bis Mitte September werden wir zuert auf den Farne-Islands und dann in Schottland sein. Daumen halten, bitte, bitte, für gutes Wetter.
      Liebe Grüße von
      Klausbernd und Dina, Siri und Selma

      Like

  4. Thanks a lot, dear Achim,
    what a great surprise 🙂 I have to get a drink immediately and raise my glas to you CHEERS!
    See you in Cley again in the not too far future
    all the best
    Klausbernd

    Ganz, ganz herzlichen Dank, lieber Achim,
    was für eine Überraschung! 🙂 Darauf muss ich mir erst mal einen Drink machen und virtuell mit dir anstoßen, Cheers!
    Also, bis bald wieder in Cley
    Mach’s gut
    Klausbernd

    Like

    Reply

  5. Hi there, jippi, this sounds great!
    I do look forward to my visit in Cley now and to get to know Klausbernd and the village of Cley that Dina ❤ has told me SO much about! 🙂
    Thank you very much for this great post, Achim, we enjoyed it tremendously, you made us all very happy!
    Big hug from us in Fredrikstad,
    ha en fin dag!
    Tone

    Like

    Reply

  8. Great tribute, congratulation to Klausbernd and a thank you to Achim! Google translator can produce some charming and sometimes less charming mistakes! 😀
    Love to you all,
    I hope the samphire is the best one you ever had,
    Hjerter ❤

    Like

    Reply

  10. What a lovely tribute, though I fear Google translator may have made a few mistakes, enchanting and hilarious as they are – just what does this sentence actually mean?
    // Always better than to be afraid to pooch, rose bushes and tree tops, cut up by the knife threads double-decker companion, the lawn around his neck. //
    I am desperately trying to work out what KB is doing with a lawn around his neck!!!
    Perhaps Siri and Selma can help us out. Love to all ❤
    Jude xx (still grinning…)

    Like

    Reply

    • 😀 The translation is hilarious, I shed a tear or two laughing, Jude. 🙂 It doesn’t make any sense at all I’m afraid. Unfortunately it’s doing the wonderful text no justice. Achim writes powerfully eloquent to a high degree (in German we say Sprachgewaltig(Wortmächtig) and Google has no sense for such beautiful language.
      Thanks for making us laugh even more, longer, and louder! 😀
      Lots of love and big hug to you from us all ❤
      Dina xx

      Like

    • I can almost picture a little robot somewhere scratching its head trying to understand such writing – I got the impression that it was extremely beautifully written.
      xx

      Like

    • Hi, dear Jude,
      it was written in a high level poetic German. It’s great how the Google-translator transformed it into a Dadaistic piece of art 😉
      And I can asure you not crarrying the lawn around my neck – I am not that strong-necked.
      We four are still grinning as well 😉 🙂
      All the best
      the Fab Four of Cley

      🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

      Like

    • 🙂 Google poetry sounds good, Laurence! We’re off to Scotland this week, we’ll be back in ca 3 weeks time. Give us a shout if you’d like to come to Cley! 🙂
      Warms greetings back to you all in Norwich,
      Dina and Klausbernd

      Like

    • Have a wonderful time in Scotland – I’m jealous! Very busy for next 2-3 weeks writing my Kyrgyzstan guide update. After that, a visit to Cley would be lovely – it would be great to see you. Warm wishes, Laurence

      Like

    • That’s great, Laurence. We’ll see you two then! 🙂
      Easy and happy writing, all the best for your update from
      Dina, Klausbernd, Siri and Selma

      Like

  13. So much beauty and I am glad I can see it and wander with you through all the beautiful spots. I love the windmills and the beautiful architecture and those wide, open spaces. Gorgeous shots! 😀

    Like

    Reply

    • Lovely make-over, Sonel! 🙂 It’s very distinct, smart and good-looking. Like a visit to the hairdresser and then everybody says; hey where’s this fountain of youth?! 🙂
      Big hug, Dina

      Like

    • Liebe Hanne, es geht uns hier in Lu sehr gut, noch 3 Wochen frei, heute habe ich Fotos (aus)sortiert, wollte ich schon jahrelang mal machen…….jetzt hat es nur einen Tag gedauert….noch ein paar Stunden, dann habe ich es geschafft! Hab ich heute gelacht!
      ..und gestaunt, es ist so ein Unterschied in der Bildqualität, es lohnt sich kaum, so viele schlechte alte Fotos aufzuheben, aber es sind eben Erinnerungen.
      Bald zieht es mich wieder in den Wald….Jonas muss überraschenderweise ein 3-monatiges Praktikum im Krankenhaus machen, er muss ganz schön ackern!
      Ganz schöne Zeit euch in Cley und herzliche Grüße von Pia

      Like

    • Ja, lieber Ernst, dem stimmen wir voll und ganz zu. Achims Beschreibung ist richtig toll.
      Alles Gute dir!
      Herzliche Grüße von der Küste von uns vier,
      Dina

      Like

    • Hahaha, no, we won’t change, it would be a shame to destroy tho spice of word art! 😀
      Thank you so much for looking into this, Frederick – even if it hardly made any sense…
      Best regards from Dina and Klausbernd, Siri and Selma

      Like

    • Same, same, Rebecca. Have a lovely, GREAT and unforgettable time in Scotland! We’re off tomorrow, packing warm and weatherproof clothing after your alarming mail. 🙂
      Enjoy and say hello to yours, I look forward to the pipes.
      Big hug from the four of us,
      Dina ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

      Like

  22. Pingback: Die Zeit nagt an den Linien – St Margaret’s Church in Cley next the sea – Susanne Haun | Susanne Haun

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.