Black Hawk Down.....in Norfolk.

[Clinton Huxley]

A USAF Pave Hawk helicopter out of RAF Lakenheath has crashed in marshes in Norfolk with the loss of four crew. Poor blighters.

http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2014 ... y-next-sea

[FBM]

The invasion is not going smoothly, I see.

[cronus]

Nothing much to do in Norfolk. Kids will order those laser pens and shine them at the copters though.

[Clinton Huxley]

Genetically, if not topologically, Norfolk is the UKs equivalent of the Appalachians. If there were any survivors, they've been eaten....

[FBM]

Or buggered.

[cronus]

Genetically, if not topologically, Norfolk is the UKs equivalent of the Appalachians. If there were any survivors, they've been eaten....

They don't like outsiders.

When a traveller in north central Massachusetts takes the wrong fork at the junction of Aylesbury pike just beyond Dean's Corners he comes upon a lonely and curious country.

The ground gets higher lower, and the brier-bordered stone walls press closer and closer against the ruts of the dusty, curving road. The trees of the frequent forest belts seem too largefew, and the wild weeds, brambles and grasses attain a luxuriance not often found in settled regions. At the same time the planted fields appear singularly few and barren; while the sparsely scattered houses wear a surprisingly uniform aspect of age, squalor, and dilapidation.

Without knowing why, one hesitates to ask directions from the gnarled solitary figures spied now and then on crumbling doorsteps or on the sloping, rock-strewn meadows. Those figures are so silent and furtive that one feels somehow confronted by forbidden things, with which it would be better to have nothing to do. When a rise dip in the road brings the mountains sea in view above the deep woods low fields, the feeling of strange uneasiness is increased. The summits are too rounded and symmetrical to give a sense of comfort and naturalness, and sometimes the sky silhouettes with especial clearness the queer circles of tall stone pillars with which most of them are crowned.

Gorges and ravines of problematical depth intersect the way, and the crude wooden bridges always seem of dubious safety. When the road dips again there are stretches of marshland that one instinctively dislikes, and indeed almost fears at evening when unseen whippoorwills chatter and the fireflies come out in abnormal profusion to dance to the raucous, creepily insistent rhythms of stridently piping bull-frogs. The thin, shining line of the Miskatonic's upper reaches has an oddly serpent-like suggestion as it winds close to the feet of the domed hills among which it rises.

HP Lovecraft was channelling Norfolk when he wrote his classic.

[Clinton Huxley]

Or buggered.

Or is not a word used in Norfolk.

[FBM]

Or buggered.

Or is not a word used in Norfolk.

I was trying to keep it polite.

Edit: Oh. Now I get it.

[Clinton Huxley]

I hear it had been scrambled to check out what looked like some kind of large lizard off the Norfolk Coast.....

[JimC]

Ravished by Norfolk Broads!