I don’t know about you. But over the last few weeks I have had an overwhelming desire to say thank you to almost every person I meet. Sometimes they are quite surprised, it must be said. Nevertheless, the urge continues.

Before the fires I relished the innocent sun-filled days of early summer. Despite weather warnings in place, our young were tasting something of the carefree times we ourselves experienced as youngsters. The grandchildren plunge into the river with alacrity.
"Wild swimming?" a passer-by remarked. "No, not wild swimming," I replied. "Just swimming, the way children always have".

There has been a shocking cost to the heatwave. Terrible, harrowing fires, blackened ruins which were treasured homes only days before. And acres of scorched farmland destroying wildlife and their habitat in a terrifying onslaught of flame.

Yet incredibly, with immense thanks to the professionalism of our Fire and Rescue Service, no actual loss of human life. Norfolk owes all our emergency services a profound debt of gratitude indeed for the way they consistently and courageously keep us safe.

We hear about the stoicism of the survivors. Maggie has already moved into a caravan on the site of her destroyed cottage, having lost everything but her memories - the most precious commodity of all.

We learn of the generosity of her neighbours too. Deepdale Garage giving free fuel to the 110 firefighters operating in Brancaster Staithe.

The White Horse pub taking in and providing for those suddenly rendered homeless. Volunteers from St John’s and other organisations, providing essential sustenance to the fire fighters.

That same coming together of individuals and communities we witnessed so vividly during the pandemic at play again – Poringland, Ashill, it is the same practical and compassionate story.

Yet it isn’t always the big deeds that matter most. It can be the little ones that make such a difference too. Huge thanks then to the kind doctors in our Norwich Walk-In Centre, and to the two quite exceptional pharmacists who between them managed to source crucial eye drops for a Ukrainian guest.

Pharmacists often miss out in the plaudits, but not today. Their professional care and kindness were outstanding. If you are struggling to get an appointment with your over-stretched GP, speak to your local pharmacist. I doubt you will be disappointed.

On Sunday we were invited to travel by boat from Wroxham Broad to St Benet’s Abbey. It had been a busy week … so what joy to sit back with little more to do than study the riverside haunts of Toad, Ratty and Mole.

‘Next morn we took a sailing boat, e’re we went on our way, We liked it so, we almost wished - we could prolong our stay.’ (The Yellow Caravan. Camping around Norfolk 1912 by Juliet Webster)

St Benet’s Abbey itself, from where the Bishop of Norwich spoke that afternoon, owns some of the widest and most beautiful skies in Norfolk. Beyond that, close your eyes and it is not hard to hear the distant murmurings of the medieval monk’s regular cycle of prayer. Prayer for local peoples. Prayer for those in need. Prayer for wider communities. Prayer for this empty but oh so stunning washed-up corner of our county. Prayer for Norfolk; arguably how fortunate are we today, to still be benefiting from those centuries and cycles of prayer.

I have another special reason for feeling grateful. You may remember me mentioning a small Albanian family who landed unexpectedly in our lives. Eventually, after nearly six years of anguish and uncertainty, this little family has finally been granted permission to remain in UK - and to apply for British Citizenship in due course. It has been a long and arduous journey, but the relief and joy is palpable. They are determined to repay in spades this country they love with all their hearts - and can finally now call home.

Homes lost; homes gained. But overall, it is that all encompassing sense of community, pervading every pore of Norfolk life, that sets us apart from other places. Stephen Fry writes: ‘You either get Norfolk with its wild roughness and uncultivated oddities, or you don’t. It isn’t all soft and lovely. It doesn’t ask to be loved.’
Which I guess is why we do.

Philippa Dannatt is HM Lord-Lieutenant of Norfolk