I’ve managed to make it to the age of 35 without ever stepping foot inside a hot air balloon basket – it’s probably been a case of not being in the right place at the right time.

But now I can claim to have taken flight through the skies of Norfolk in a 16-man balloon.

A few weeks ago a friend of ours, who flies balloons, invited us to take a trip with him from Norwich.

It was a beautiful, bright evening as we silently lifted in the still skies of the city to slowly float south towards Wymondham.

The experience was ever so slightly surreal and took a while to get used to.

The silence is what really hit me and the wonder of rising and falling so gently. It was also pretty special to see the city from the air and the game of spotting places you knew seemed endless.

The craftsmanship of the pilot is spectacular to watch and we drifted across Norfolk for more than an hour before (quite comfortably) landing on the southern outskirts of Wymondham.

Reflecting back on the trip made me really appreciate the beauty of Norfolk. We flew over the city’s outskirts, large rambling areas of farmland and got intimate glimpses of landscapes you wouldn’t normally see from the ground.

Norfolk, you are glorious…