A tiny seaside village on the coast of Suffolk, in south-east England. It’s a short distance from the A12 road from London (follow signs for Southwold). Although it boasts little more than a scattering of teashops and a tiny resident population, huge numbers of tourists descend upon the place during the summer months, armed with buckets, spades and those daft little inflatable dinghies.

They come, you see, for the beach, which as they go is pretty good. It’s very sandy, very long, and picturesque in a rugged kinda way. Those expecting warm crystal-clear blue waters are going to be disappointed – this is the North Sea after all, and truth be told it’s pretty miserable in typical British weather. However, when the sun shines it’s idyllic. The town’s environs are designated an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, meaning they are protected from developers and golf course designers, and are comprised largely of heaths and marshland.

Amenities are fairly basic. There are quite a few b&b’s, teashops, two pubs, a village shop/tat emporium, giftshops and various arty-crafty type places. I can’t really comment on the quality of any of these since the beach is the only reason I’ve ever been there. However, if you’re after food then try The Ship, a pub in Dunwich which is a few miles down the road. They do quite possibly the best fish and chips in the world, fresh from the sea every morning.

Walberswick is also notable (kinda) as the venue for the world famous (sorta) British Open Crabbing Championship. Crabbing - the sedate sport of catching crabs (quiet at the back) and, er, throwing them back - attracts throngs of eager crab-catchers, armed with scraggy bits of bacon fat and various other "interesting" home-made baits. It takes place along the banks of the river Blyth near the beach once a year, and some people get excited about it. Needless to say the event reaches no further than the local news.

The local people are understandably a little peeved at having their nice seaside village overtaken by yuppies, and not being able to buy houses in their own village because they’ve all become summer homes for Londoners. But they do prevent the village from dying like so many other rural settlements, which might well be a good thing. This hasn’t stopped the average age of villagers rocketing as people choose to retire there; a friend who lives in the village finds it stifling to say the least. That said, whilst fast-moving, cosmopolitan and vibrant it aint, it's a likeable place all the same.

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