Whenever I have days off in the middle of the week, when more or less everyone I know is working, I always like to get out and about and explore somewhere interesting. I had never been to before, but heard good things about it. Apparently, there are loads of great shops, and the place itself is full of places steeped in . It sounded perfect, and the city certainly did not disappoint. Frankly, it blew me away.

The night before my journey to Norfolk, I set about booking my train ticket. My heart sank when I saw that an open off-peak return would set me back more than £100 (honestly, the absolute state of this country's railways and its pricing structure). But I luckily managed to find another for £55 - relatively reasonable. The downside was that it was for a slightly later service than I'd usually choose at 8.25am, meaning that I'd arrive at Norwich station - which, incidentally, is a lovely little terminus opened in 1844 - at 11.18am.

Eager to fit in as much as I could, I straight away started to head towards the castle and museum, which is £8.20 entry.

After walking past a delightful looking riverside pub and trail, the sights that greeted me in Prince of Wales Road were not promising.

The road was flanked by a lot of empty buildings, some of which were graffitied. It was a scene that could be found in many towns and cities across the country.

Somewhat lost, I headed in the general direction of the castle on the hill, which involved walking through a shopping centre - again, identical to many across the UK.

On the other side, I was across from a very nice looking Victorian (at a guess) building named York House.

I'm not sure of its original purpose, but the property is now occupied by a vape lounge and barber - a striking metaphor for many retail streets across Britain.

After navigating construction barriers, I eventually found the entrance to the museum, whereupon I was informed that the castle was sadly closed. A friend reassured me later on, however, that it is "not the best".

I needn't have worried, as the museum was great. It started strangely with some rather disturbing rooms filled with stuffed animals.

I overheard a member of staff saying to some other visitors that they were housed in their original 19th century cases as the exhibits are deliberately kept in the manner they would have been displayed back then.

Visitors can even see a polar bear, lion cubs and a baby elephant. Looking into their eyes, it felt as if they were still alive, in suspended animation, and asking for your help to escape.

My favourite section featured a huge Megaloceros skull above a doorway - a prehistoric animal I've had a soft spot for since first watching the BBC series Walking with Beasts as a kid.

The rest was like a mini version of the British Museum, and featured displays of items from fascinating periods of British history, from the Romans to the Second World War.

If you find yourself caught short, by the way, there's a Victorian toilet to use.

City Bookshop was my next stop - a visit would not be complete without a thorough peruse. I somehow managed to hold back and go home without having bought one on this occasion.

Afterwards, I found the city's market. I was pleasantly surprised by how bustling it was, bearing in mind this was a Tuesday afternoon.

It offers a lot, including clothes, food, booze, books and watch repairs. It was cheering to see a place like this filled with independent traders still going well after being familiar with the closure of Derby's Eagle Market and Nottingham's Victoria Market.

I was very much reminded of those as I wandered around.

My stomach was indicating that it was long past time for lunch, so I stopped by the Belgian Monk pub.

I found myself overwhelmed by its massive drink selection when I walked in, so I asked which bitter the barman recommended. He obligingly poured a Bolleke, which went down very smoothly.

I also enjoyed a hog roast with chips and salad, brought over by a very friendly member of staff, in the beer garden, as the blazing afternoon sun slowly made its way across my table.

The price of these came to £18.20.

With time pushing on, I was wanting to visit the cathedral before I caught my train home. But this could not be done before buying an ice cream.

The woman at the Ice Cream Cafe warned that the mocha scoop she handed to me was "notoriously drippy". She was not exaggerating.

I had to rely on the reflexes of an F1 driver to catch some of it in my hand. This cost £3.50.

To get to the cathedral, I passed through Elm Hill, which was the highlight of my trip.

It is a cliche, but I really did feel like I'd just stepped out of a Tardis into a provincial Italian village in the 17th century.

An aged bench surrounded the trunk of a tree, whose foliage covered a sort of square in shadow.

Next to it was a water pump, I did not check to see if it still worked.

Either side were buildings straight from medieval or Tudor streets, with some newer but still very old buildings interspersed.

Among them was another bookshop, to the owner of which I exclaimed: "I've never been to this street before. It's incredible. It's like it belongs in Italy."

The owner reliably informed me that the sun helps, and this was certainly not the case during the winter.

All of this I was able to soak in and enjoy more or less alone, as a few other people sauntered around. It was a far cry from Canterbury, where I visited the other week, which was full of tourists and felt like a theme park.

Finally, I made it to the cathedral. It was impressive, of course, but it did not astound me as much as the one in Canterbury. This, to be fair, ensured a very high bar.

Norwich's cloisters, though, were stunning, much like the ones in Kent. On the walls were large, colourful coats of arms, slightly faded after being on proud display for so long.

Walking around was free, although I donated £5. In Canterbury, you have to purchase a ticket.