I hope Norwich won't mind me saying this, but it's not a 24/7 city. It's large and important but it's still, in many ways, a quiet country town. It meant that while the route from my hotel to the station was littered with the detritus from a wild Saturday night - scattered chip boxes, empty glasses on pelican crossing boxes, the odd splash of vomit - the town itself was silent and quiet. Nothing was open. My breakfast options were limited.
In the end I went for a sandwich and a bottle of Coke from the newsagents and ate it on the train out to Buckenham. It's a request stop and one of the quietest stations in Britain. Not only is it in the middle of nowhere, with its busiest neighbour an RSPB reserve, but it only receives a service at the weekends. It's a combination that made me think I'd be the only person disembarking but no, there was a keen twitcher getting off the train with me, wearing khaki and carrying a backpack and a camera.