Why you'll be in love with Norfolk

Julie Christie was restless and wilful in suffocating summer heat, when Joseph Losey filmed The Go-Between here more than 30 years ago. Kubrick followed (Full Metal Jacket), so did Gywneth Paltrow (Shakespeare in Love). You see why: reach Norfolk's northern coast, and you're released from deadening tyrannies.

It suffers no executive housing, no ribbon development, no motorways, no service stations, no Starbucks, no sodium light leaking into and bleaching the night sky; it has, instead, flint-faced villages linked by lanes and empty roads tracing their way through a patchwork of fields which rise and fall down to the sea. Norfolk's north coast is:

Scrunching razor fish shells into the sand on the limitlessness of Holkham beach.

Giving indulgence a chance at Byfords Cafe and Restaurant in Holt: chocolate and almond croissant, or a bacon or sausage baguette, to the sound of Ella Fitzgerald.

Gloating over the cheeses - 125 of them - at Bakers and Larners of Holt ("four centuries, nine monarchs, one familyî) and lusting over its wines: a Lafite '89 perhaps.

Knowing your Cokes from your Cholmondeleys . The head Coke, the Earl of Leicester, has Holkham Hall (01328 710 227; open Sunday and Thursday). Visit and envy him: for the Marble Hall, the Statue Gallery and the Obelisk. The Marquess of Cholmondeley has Houghton Hall (01485 528 569; open Thursday, Sunday and Bank Holiday Monday until 29 September.) Think of playful guests being entertained - Mandy Mandelson and a flow of Guinnesses.

Loading up at Humble Pie, Burnham Market, with Norfolk chutney, sweet-cured Norfolk bacon and sticky toffee pudding, and at Gurneys (lobster and oaksmoked salmon), then taking to the beach at Brancaster.

Exhibitionism and heroism from the kite-surfers, pulled over the water, sucked into the air and flung 30 yards. Bruised pride and unbridled triumphalism from the golfers, playing the course on which Hugh Grant has swung and putted.

Paying homage to the Rev Harold Davidson, unfrocked vicar, consumed in 1937 at the age of 62 by a lion with which he performed at Skegness. His mortal remains lie in the churchyard at Stiffkey.

Seeing a solid meale - Anglo Saxon for sand dune - and taking refuge behind it when the wind whips up. The Meale House stands on the edge of the pines behind Holkham beach. Beg Tom (Viscount) Coke as you will, it is not for hire. Console yourself with a beach hut at Wells (Pinewood Holiday Park: 01328 710430).

Asking to take Voewood for a long weekend: a folie de grandeur of barley-twist banisters and tilestacked chimneys, it was built between 1903 and 1905 for a Mr Percy Lloyd, for perhaps £6 million in today's money. But Percy never lived in his palace, nor has anyone - until now. Voewood's saviour is Simon Finch (Simon Finch Rare Books, Notting Hill), who has lavished its 15 bedrooms (sleeping 25) and formal gardens of walls and lavender with love - and Moorish lanterns and paintings and murals - and a Steinway. Details 01263 713 029.

Praying Burnham House - creeper-clad and porticoed, six bedrooms of Georgian prosperity - is still available (£1,019 a week from Norfolk Country Cottages: 01603 871872).

Losing yourself in the dust-and-mildew scent of The Brazen Head Bookshop at Burnham Market.

Tasting the breath of beer in the air in the bar at the Hoste Arms, Burnham Market. The benches look like church pews; they used to be. Worshippers drink Nelson's Revenge (£2.25 a pint), in the spirit of Jimmy Raven, who sups on a Tuesday and Thursday at 9.15pm - never on any other day or at any other time - as he has done for half a century. Jimmy for ever.

Toying with the remote control in your room in the Hoste's just-opened Africa Wing, till the television rises from a leather-bound ottoman. Enough to tease Hugh Grant and All Saints back?

Revering Harry Corry Wright's photographs of the epic coast at Saltwater Gallery, Burnham Market.

Hitting the Raj glories of The Victoria at Holkham - for a margarita (£5) from bar manager Matt Higham. Bribing children into silence with the barbecue - £6.50 for sausages and chips.

Going for broke at The Lord Nelson, Burnham Thorpe - drinking Nelson's Blood poured by Jebby and Lucy.

Dining at Rococo at the Crown (01328 710209) in Wells: Michelin-starred, good enough for Red Ken (lunched one Sunday). Open lasagne of smoked salmon, with a Californian Lolonis Chardonnay. Refugees from England: Cambridge dons, film-makers.

Feasting on silence and the black night sky, on the water's edge at Blakeney.