It took just a two-hour train journey from London to be whisked back years. I lived in Norwich, an ancient and important city in eastern England, from 1992-9. It was both family home and the place where I studied at the University of East Anglia.
This time I was armed with my camera to see its crowning glory, the cathedral. My feet remembered where to go, from the pretty lanes including Elm Hill, and to lunch at an unchanged old haunt, The Waffle House. The banana milkshakes were still deliciously rich, and the same guy still works there.
The UEA’s campus, a bold cluster of concrete set beside a lake, couldn’t be more different from the ancient city centre. It felt nostalgically familiar, but the current students weren’t even born when I was one of them. Sometimes going back can be a bad idea, but this was a happy retread.