There’s much to admire… but many admirers
What’s going for it? I know what you want. Pink-painted, 18th-century cottage. Living-room with beams and inglenooks. Pantiles on the roof, maybe thatch. Paddocks out back. Ooh, and can I have a stream, too? What you’ll probably get, though, is redbrick, 1980s semi. Garage on the side. Heritage lantern by the front door. Straight outta Brookside. Bag of John Innes on the drive, waiting for the weekend. Demand for the East Anglian Dream, you see, outstrips supply. Diss can supply pink-painted cottages, for a price, dotted about the pretty old town and its hinterland; this is, after all, where the great nature writer Roger Deakin escaped to his Walnut Tree Farm, and where that other great nature writer Richard Mabey has put down roots. But since the place became a commuter hub, it’s wrapped itself in semis and cul-de-sacs. It makes for an odd mix: the old, the new, and the newold – or oldnew – regurgitating the past as out-of-town retail opportunities, where you can pick up a skinny latte on the rush-hour schlep to Norwich.
The case against A tad humdrum; you’ll have to travel for culture and vice. Cars, cars, cars.
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