It turns out that Henry L'Estrange Styleman Le Strange wasn't a baddie in a Sherlock Holmes, rather an artist-cum-businessman and the founding father of Hunstanton.
Henry helped to develop Hunstanton just south of the original, prehistoric settlement of, erm, Hunstanton and could have gone down the New Hunstanton route with the branding but what was Hunstanton became Old Hunstanton and what could have been New Hunstanton is now, well, just Hunstanton. What?
Not that he named it, some old Saxon had already beaten him to it, but he still managed to convince the railways to come to his swanky, new seaside resort. Sadly, he took his last train in 1862 just when they'd finished the station and just before the Victorians started to visit. Ouch!
The area around the sloping green retains the original, Victorian vibe but old Henry can be found shaking his fist at the modern frontage.
This definitely wasn't his doing but nor was it Hunstan's, neither. The rising need for a seawall and a, taps nose, tossed box of Swan Vesta™s in 2002 are the main reasons for the concrete.
There's a fair count of cafés meaning the crowds and the prices are down if you're craving a cappuccino. This is just one of your options and was once part of a large store doing a good line in ladies' fashions.
Today, though, their jackets and bloomers are of a very different variety. At least they would be if the store wasn't now permanently closed but why waste a colourful snap, eh?
The chalk and limestone cliffs are a sight with quite a few people and dogs clearly unable to read.
There's a bracing stroll atop them to Old Hunstanton where the former coastguard tower might still be for sale. This is all perched on the eastern edge of the Wash and you got your binocs?
Look out and you should see Lincolnshire. Pan right, keep going, keep going, keep going... all the way to Skegness, it's reckoned.
Because here looks west over the water that is the Wash, this is one of only a few places on the east coast where you can watch a sunset out to sea, you see.
The cliffs mark the start of a long-distance footpath but don't dismiss one of the flattest areas of England. There's a fair bit of it on shingle and that can be confirmed as a right calf-killer.
It used to be 62 miles to Sea Palling but they've since extended and normal people will take a week for the 84 miles to Hopton-on-Sea. If you're coming from Hopton-on-Sea, congratulations and welcome to 'Sunny Hunny'.
It's a nice stroll through the colourful Esplanade Gardens and they're up there every year for some blooming prize or other.
If they're not then that's a joke but not one as big as Britain's largest joke shop, right? This should provide additional amusement following the 'musements and the fleshpots on the front.
The centre's fairly compact with just the pair of pleasant-looking streets to entertain before it all runs out at the big Sainsbury™s. After all of that excitement, isn't it time for something a little more daring?
Just the one tandoori in town, a sizeable establishment in what's believed to be called a 'parade' of shops. Full to bursting on a weekend not long after 7 PM, which, funnily enough, is what you will be by 9 PM.
The Wash Monster will get you a better view of the cliffs or can venture further afield.
Seal safaris are sold as the main attraction but you can privately charter for that disco and it sounded like they were having a rave on board today with about 15 'loved-up' punters on this count.
Speaking of 15-love, where's the world's largest grass court tennis tournament? Away with your Wimbledons, why it's only Hunstanton, of course!
Admittedly, the 40 grass courts are on a sloping rugby pitch that's had an early August haircut and there are no umpires. If this all sounds very sportsmanlike, there's a sinister, less sporting downside according to the locals.
Posh youths invade for the week and residents are made 'prisoners in their own homes'. Teenagers on Sloanie forums boast of having a house in the area and post the occasional, internet-veiled threat of bedlam despite being 16 years old.
On remonstrating over the noise from a nearby 'picnic', one local claims to have had the roof of his BMW set alight!
That'll be game pie, set for life and discarded match, then?
Exceptionally good value lodgings with an old-skool bar downstairs where it's proper, home-cooked pub grub. Most of their mains were still in single digits pounds-wise and, following some time further south, is something that's not been seen for nearly a fortnight.