A coastal path blocked by single defiant deckchair owned by bitter Norfolk pensioner has caused chaos near Wells-next-the-Sea, where at least 14 walkers were forced to choose between a 300-yard diversion and asking permission from a man called Clive. Neither option was considered acceptable.

By Our Norfolk Reporter: Ian Bred

The folding chair, a faded navy specimen believed to have been purchased during the Blair administration, appeared shortly after 8.30am on Tuesday at a particularly narrow stretch of public footpath. It was positioned sideways, with the precision of a military roadblock and the quiet menace of a parish council email.

Behind it sat 78-year-old Clive Bunting, wearing a sun visor, reading the Racing Post and radiating the sort of stubbornness normally reserved for disputes over hedge height. He insists the path is not blocked, merely “being used properly for once”.

“People have become terribly entitled,” Mr Bunting told reporters from behind a flask containing something he described only as ‘tea, technically’. “They see a coastal view and assume they can just walk through it. What happened to waiting respectfully while an older gentleman finishes a crossword?”

Norfolk coastal path blocked by deckchair

The obstruction was first noticed by dog walker Sandra Peplow, 56, who had set off from the car park hoping for a brisk morning stroll and perhaps a coffee served in a cup too small to hold safely. Instead, she found herself face to face with the deckchair and its owner’s handwritten sign.

It read: ‘PRIVATE RELAXATION IN PROGRESS. PLEASE DETOUR OR REFLECT.’

Mrs Peplow said she initially assumed the sign was part of an art installation. “Then Clive looked up and asked whether my dog had a permit. That was when I realised this was Norfolk.”

The official route remains legally open, according to people who enjoy producing maps at moments of maximum social tension. Yet Mr Bunting maintains he has a historic right to sit in the spot because he once dropped an ice cream there in 1974 and has never emotionally recovered.

He has also claimed that the chair is not on the path but “adjacent to the concept of the path”, a defence currently being examined by local authorities, two retired solicitors and a man from Holt who owns an alarming number of laminated documents.

Walkers face a detour and a lecture

Visitors attempting to pass have been offered several alternatives. They may walk around via the dunes, which adds roughly 18 minutes and guarantees sand in their footwear until Christmas. They may wait until Mr Bunting moves, an event experts believe is more likely to coincide with the reopening of Woolworths. Or they may attempt polite conversation, which has so far led only to a lecture about mobile phones, modern cheese and the decline of proper trousers.

One family from Cambridge reportedly tried to squeeze past, only for Mr Bunting to deploy a second chair – a striped reserve unit – and inform them that they were now “creating a seating situation”.

Their eight-year-old son, Toby, was said to have wept after being told that the sea was visible from several other locations and that he should learn resilience. The family later spent £41 on chips, ice cream and a plastic bucket in a bid to regain control of the day.

A local coastguard volunteer, who asked not to be named because he still needs to buy his newspapers in the village, said the dispute had become increasingly elaborate. “At first it was one chair. Then there was a small windbreak. Yesterday he put out a side table with a packet of custard creams. I’m not saying he’s building a settlement, but we’re monitoring developments.”

Bitter Norfolk pensioner says he is defending standards

Mr Bunting rejects suggestions that he is bitter. He prefers the phrase “correctly disappointed” and says his objections are rooted in a commitment to standards.

“I remember when this coast had manners,” he said. “You could sit down wherever you liked and nobody would march past in matching waterproofs discussing sourdough. Now everyone’s got a reusable bottle, a Labrador called Monty and an opinion about parking.”

Asked whether he had considered simply moving the chair a foot to the left, he stared towards the horizon for 11 seconds before replying: “That is exactly what they want.”

The chair itself has become a minor attraction. By Wednesday lunchtime, several day-trippers had photographed it, while one couple from Ipswich queued for nearly ten minutes believing it marked the entrance to a particularly exclusive beach bar.

A nearby café has begun selling a ‘Clive’s Detour Bun’, described as a sausage roll with unnecessary resistance. It is understood to be proving popular with walkers who have completed the diversion and require both carbohydrates and a renewed faith in public access.

Not everyone is amused. The Friends of the Norfolk Coast group has called for a measured solution, preferably one that does not involve throwing anything into the sea. Its spokesperson said paths need to remain accessible, while also conceding that removing an elderly man from a deckchair may be beyond the capabilities of any institution currently funded by Britain.

Council arrives with clipboards

North Norfolk officials attended the site on Thursday carrying clipboards, high-visibility jackets and the unmistakable expression of people who had expected to spend the morning discussing bins.

They measured the gap between the chair and the gorse, consulted a tablet, and held what witnesses described as a “very firm but gentle” conversation with Mr Bunting. He countered by producing an old Ordnance Survey map, two digestive biscuits and a newspaper cutting about foot-and-mouth restrictions from 2001.

The council has not yet issued a formal notice. A spokesman said officers were “seeking a proportionate response to an unusual access matter”. Translation: nobody wants the headline ‘Council Declares War on Deckchair’ unless it is absolutely unavoidable.

Mr Bunting, however, appears prepared for a long campaign. He has reportedly joined a local Facebook group called Norfolk Residents Against Being Told Things, where his post about the chair received 187 supportive comments, 43 angry ones and one recipe for lentil soup.

By late afternoon, the confrontation had settled into a typically British stalemate. Walkers continued to divert through the dunes. Mr Bunting continued to sit. The chair continued to hold its ground with a dignity rarely seen outside a queue for a post office counter.

For anyone planning a trip to the coast this weekend, the practical advice is simple: bring sturdy shoes, allow extra time, and never underestimate the territorial instincts of a pensioner with a folding chair and a grudge. You couldn’t make it up.