Hot day at Beechwood

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Amy shelters from the sun at Beechwood School speech day

Another eventful week, though not as intense as some – not all the time anyway. Most intense day for me was Thursday, when I drove to Warwick to see Andrew, who is still not making much sense, but is calmer. He is making regular visits to Minster Lodge and according to the manager, Helen, is quite a comedy turn there. So that’s all good.

I actually went to Minster Lodge to see Jan Sneath, from Coventry City Council, about Andrew’s money, which turned out to be even more complicated than I thought it was. The arrears that I was assured in 2011 were not counted as savings now are (they were arrears for a year only), so this could have had implications looking back. However, the council has decided to ignore this, which means he is self-supporting for another three or four months, when it will all have to be worked out again. Oh joy.

On the way home I called at Papworth Hospital, where our friend Geoff had not recovered from his operation, largely because it was rapidly followed by two others when they discovered other things wrong. As I was parking the car I met his wife Sophie. She took me up to see him. I was in the intensive care area for about 5-10 minutes before all visitors were ushered out as someone had a bad moment. Geoff was unconscious, sedated, and did not look good.

Afterwards I met Sophie by the duckpond – a beautiful spot in lovely weather – and we had a long chat before repairing to the restaurant for a light meal. She was very calm considering, but very tired too. The next day she left for a rest at home, only to be called back when Geoff had a “massive stroke”. He was transferred to Addenbrooke’s for an operation to stop the bleed, where he remains as I write. Sophie is with her daughter in Tunbridge Wells, hoping for a miracle.

As for me, I left her at 6pm and arrived home 90 minutes later. On Sunday we sung my new song, All will be well, at a service which really centred on Geoff and Sophie, and was a beautiful experience. It seems trivial to add that in the afternoon we watched Andy Murray become the first man in several thousand years to win the men’s championship at Wimbledon, surprisingly outplaying Djokovic. Media reaction continues at a high level today.

We had a lovely evening yesterday with Heather, Simon and Sam – first at the King’s Head and then at the Ali Tandoori. Again a very warm evening, and the conversation and food were of high quality. We all get on very well.

The highlight of the week, however, was on Saturday, when Dot and I travelled down to Markyate for Beechwood School’s speech day. We missed the speeches, happily, but enjoyed the end of a picnic on the grass (we ate our sandwiches at David’s house), then had a tour of the classrooms and a chat with one or two teachers. Very hot weather, and when the day ended with a visit to the Cafe du Lion, with Oliver one of the chefs, the tent was quite stifling. The tea and cakes were good, though. Vicky and her parents were there too, but afterwards the children, David and we went back to his house for fish and chips. We headed home around 9pm after  a game of cricket with Oliver, who looks a useful bowler.

Today has been spent packing for our excursion north tomorrow. We seem to be taking most of our clothes.

Two good walks in excellent weather

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Halfway through the Sunday walk, Dot, Julia and Dave pause to take in the sun on the path near Wells quay

Have just survived the annual Blakeney weekend with nothing more than an annoying cough and fuzzy head. No real reason for this, because we had a very good time in excellent weather.

It started a day early, really, after I dropped Dot at the hospital for her annual check-up (following a mix-up over appointment time) and drove out to Paston to see Lucy and pick up the costumes she’d borrowed from Dragon Hall (later returned there). Lucy wasn’t too bad, but is about to leave for a couple of weeks away with her brother and sister up north. She wants to buy a house in Mundesley, but the complications of it all are taking their toll.

While I was with her the nurse arrived and waxed eloquent on the appalling slow driving that constantly held her up. Clearly a top nurse, and she did the job well too. I left while she was still in action and drove to the Kelling area to try to find the start to a walk I’d planned. This proved strangely elusive, and I was feeling rather faint from lack of food (possibly) so I stopped for a bap and tea at a garden centre (you can tell how desperate I was) before heading home.

Dot and I intended to look again for the walk start on our way to Blakeney the next day, but we were held up by a series of slow-moving vehicles and in the end went straight to the hotel, arriving in rain. But we were not dismayed: the forecast was good. So we paid our usual visit to the Blakeney Hotel’s upstairs lounge for scone and tea – bizarrely, Lucy was there with a friend. For an ill person, she doesn’t half get around.

I had been told by Sharon – physiotherapist and tide expert – that there were some very high tides due, so Dot, Dave and I walked down to the quay after evening meal, but it was too early. Very inconsiderate tide-plannning by whoever is in charge of that. The next morning were were away from Blakeney before it repeated itself. We parked in the layby just outside Holt and walked through by the Spout Hills path, where we encountered some enthusiastic bracken-cutters. We declined an offer to join them and continued into the town, where we found some excellent but very expensive furniture and had coffee etc at Byfords, as you do.

I fetched the car and picked the others up in town to proceed to the start of the walk, which I had now tracked down on a map and turned out to be about a quarter of a mile from the garden centre I had visited the day before. Very pleasant five miles-plus, walking downhill off Kelling Heath, crossing the coast road at Kelling and reaching the shingle beach by the Quag. Julia, in open sandals, had trouble with the shingle, but we persevered until we reached Weybourne, where we walked up into the town and had lunch at BunTeas (get it?).

BunTea (or Zoie, to give her her real name) proved extremely loquacious. We stayed awhile, then proceed up the road and then by a narrow and rather overgrown path up Telegraph Hill to the railway line. Quite a steep climb in places, but from the line an easy stroll back to the car.

When we stopped in Cley so that the Vigorous Three could look at some shops, I discovered that I had lost the hotel key. After getting a substitute one from the hotel I retraced our steps (the lay-by, the start of the walk, Byfords) without success. I was about to give up when, back at the hotel, I made a last, in-depth search of the car and found the key beside the driver’s seat. It had apparently fallen through a hole in my gilet pocket that I didn’t know was there.

The next day’s walk came courtesy of Dave: it was one they had done previously on their own and took us from Holkham (following the obligatory drink) along the beach to Wells, which was extremely crowded around the famous beach hut area. From there we walked into town along the straight path, pausing for breath at one point on a sunny bench – it was a warm and bright day – and then finding a tiny garden cafe just off the main street, where we had a rather refined lunch.

After considering briefly whether to catch the Coasthopper back to Holkham, we decided to walk it. After a longish stretch on the road we reached a wide, straight  and level path into the Holkham estate, crossing back to near our starting point. Unbelievably the other three had the energy left to look round Adnams’ shop. I found walking across the road to retrieve the car much less exhausting. We ended with an ice cream / lollipop at the cafe.

We then made an attempt to drive through the estate as we had done many times before, but were stopped by  a security man who said this was no longer permitted. Instead we circumnavigated the estate on country roads, establishing that the place is indeed massive.

We all went to bed fairly early. The hotel more or less shut down at about 9pm, but it is still pleasant enough, with good food and comfortable rooms. Next day the others had to leave for home (or in some cases Aylesbury) after breakfast, so we were away quickly too, calling in at Holt to buy two rather nice lamps from Bakers and Larners – Dot negotiating a discount rather impressively.

We were home at lunchtime, and both of us pretty tired. Dot organised her lamps, of course, and I unpacked, but after that we did a lot of sitting down, savouring the twin delights of Vettel dropping out of the British Grand Prix while in the lead (recorded)  and Serena Williams being knocked out of  Wimbledon by Sabina Lisicki (live). Laura Robson could have got through to the next round, but she made a hash of it.

Hard day in the recording studio

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No, we haven’t moved. This is Dot at Adrian Ward’s 60th party in the garden of his rather impressive house. There were a lot of people there, but not in the picture (obviously).

Summer has gone temporarily absent, and it’s raining as Dot prepares to depart for her orchestra rehearsal. She has been at Barbara’s all day, discussing future P4C activity. I went for a session with Sharon, armed with my “normal” x-ray results. It does seem to be getting better.

I was pretty tired, though, following a hard day yesterday in the recording studio at Katy’s Cottage, Wood Dalling, otherwise known as the home of Kay and David Riggs. We managed to get through the entire performance of what has recently been known as “The Magnificent Margaret” , taking one speech, poem or song at a time and then re-recording when the girls managed to hear some tiny interference on several tracks that was indiscernible to the men.

I even recorded my song – guitar first, then vocal. An interesting experience. It was quite warm and we ate outdoors. Had a stomach upset during the night and early this morning, but that was probably a coincidence.

Eventually retrieved Dot’s MX5 from the garage on Monday, but it cost us over £1000, largely because everything was done at once: new power steering fluid reservoir from Japan, service, brakes, renewal of roadside assistance… Gave a bloke a lift from the garage into Norwich who turned out to be from North Walsham and (inevitably) a former pupils of Jessie’s. Michael Self.

Later that same day, while Dot was at a governors’ meeting, I went to a private view of the annual 20 Group’s nudes exhibition; I was invited by Hilary. Not very impressive, to tell the truth, but free wine, and I ran into Rosemary Dixon from Archant library who, I was informed by a passer-by, is a fiddle player. She didn’t seem entirely sure.

The big event of the week, of course, was the joint service at St Augustine’s on Sunday, about which I had been having bad dreams for some time. It turned out to be OK, though, with the visiting clergy person, the Rev Eleanor Langan – lead chaplain at the N&N Hospital – turning out to be a sweetie.

Quite a big congregation; the church hadn’t been swept, and I didn’t follow precisely the guidance I’d been given, in that I forgot the second chalice and neglected to put the collection plate in the right place at the end (not strictly my fault, that). I also refused to use the ugly makeshift shelf for the pulpit and rigged up a music stand for EL’s notes instead. And I forgot to light the candles on the altar.

But on the plus side, the leading of the service was fine, and everyone was happy afterwards. Dot and Steve did an excellent job with the music. EL left her coat behind, and I delivered it to the Chaplaincy letterbox at the hospital in the evening while delivering Dot to see A Ethel, who is still in situ. EL was quite impressed by this.

Geoff’s operation at Papworth didn’t go too well, and he was unconscious for several days, but he has now woken up and will hopefully start improving, though we have no details.

Queen Dot, approximately

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Lovely picture of Dot taken by the head teacher at Little Plumstead school. Yes, that is a pine cone on her head. Don’t ask.

That was a rough week, bringing with it the return of the dreaded upper respiratory tract infection, which caused me so much grief in my younger years. Thought it had gone for good, but it all came back again with the usual unpleasant symptoms, and I was in bed for three days with everything streaming. In essence I think it was the virus Dot had (and she had it bad enough) but it seems to debilitate me completely. I am now feeling OK, though rather tired, and a little clogged up. Dot still hasn’t got rid of her cough.

I missed leading the service and the visit to Oxnead Hall on Sunday, and a meeting at the Norfolk Record Office and the Launch of 26 in Norwich (Paston connection) on Monday, all of which was disappointing. Dot went to Oxnead, Phil took the service, and Rob went to NRO (which he would have done anyway).

While the virus was getting into me, and before it reached its three-day apex, I went with Dot to Judy’s for supper on Thursday – lovely fish pie and Eton mess, amusing cat – and paid a misguided, fleeting visit to Welborne Arts Festival on Saturday while Dot was visiting Auntie Ethel in hospital (yes, she’s still there – Ethel, not Dot). The weather was chill and coming on to rain, but I had a brief chat with organiser Mike and, unexpectedly, top artist Kate Coleman, who had a small tentful of paintings. Then I ran for the hills, getting back to the hospital just in time to give Dot a lift home.

That reminds me, I ‘ve written a new song called The Rolling Hills of Pakefield, which I like quite a lot.

I’ve spent the last couple of days completing preparations for Sunday (though I made a brief foray into town today to pay in cheques and buy paper). An unexpected complication – and I realise I’m looking at this from completely the wrong point of view – is that our friend and church member Geoff Saunders is on the critical list in Papworth following an operation to replace his aorta. Nicholas rang, concerned that my leading of the service on Sunday would be affected if he dies, and it certainly would, but I think I could cope. Hope I don’t have to, of course. (Nicholas himself is leading a Developing Consciousness course at St Luke’s and so can’t step in.)

Half a dozen of us had a prayer meeting at St Luke’s yesterday during the operation.

Several fantasy lands

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Dot on the path from Spout Hills to the Letheringsett Water Mill.

Life doesn’t get any slower, but at least the weather is something approaching mild today. I stepped outside to go to the supermarket, wondering which coat to wear, and realised I didn’t need a coat at all. Deep shock. We did have some sun last week, but the wind was very chilly, and when we went to Blakeney for a concert on Saturday, it was grey and verging on cold. No, it actually was cold.

The concert, in the church, was good, though: the Mozart Orchestra playing (mainly) Beethoven’s Concerto for Violin. And the violinist, Fiona Hutchins, was brilliant, clearly having a lot of fun, and no self-importance whatsoever. We sat in the third row, and it was great to watch her close-up. She is normally the orchestra leader, and they clearly got on well.

Before that we ate sandwiches in our car on the quay, and then had a quick drink in the bar at the Blakeney Hotel as the tide raced in.

The previous day was much warmer and sunny; so we went to Holt and walked at Spout Hills and across the fields to Letheringsett Water Mill, which was just closing. So we went back up into town and had tea and scone at Byfords (always wonderful), followed by a bit of food shopping at Bakers & Larners. Earlier I’d picked up my new glasses from Boots, who have just texted me to say I missed my appointment. They clearly need glasses.

Going further back into the mists of time, on Wednesday Nicholas talked me through a service I’m leading at the old church on the 23rd. Last night I had a bad dream about leading a service and not having anything with me that I should have.  And it hadn’t even been preying on my mind, though I’m not at all sure I can remember everything Nicholas said. It is preying on my mind now, of course. I have to put the order of service together and choose some hymns; then I should be OK. Let us prey.

At the PCC that same evening I met the new parish treasurer, who gave me a document to pin up in the church. Something to do with insurance. Unfortunately I lost it on the way home: I was walking because Dot had the car, which is still in the garage and will be for at least a week, probably more. I am pretending the document never existed. It won’t be long before I start pretending the car never existed.

Sharon had a particularly effective go at my shoulder on Thursday, and it’s been feeling much better since. But I am still awaiting the results of the x-ray.

Busy day on Sunday. After preaching on raising the dead (no visual aids) we went to Adrian Ward’s 60th birthday party at Cringleford, arriving just in time for the food but too early for the only other people we knew (except Adrian and his wife). Martin Laurance eventually turned up, complete with new eye surgery, and later Annette and Teri. In between, Caroline, who read some poems from her Pepys book following a guy who played cello for rather a long time. Dot and I then had to rush away because we were performing  at the Seagull in the evening. No music this time, but Dot did assist in a tanka series, and I did a few other poems. Very good young singer-guitarist there called Matthew Shepherd, of whom I expect great things.

And then there was yesterday, when Phil drove me to Coventry/Warwick to visit Andrew. We visited Minster Lodge first and left some money for the man who was transporting Andrew’s belongings from the Langleys. Then to Warwick, and a bit of a challenge finding the entrance to Andrew’s new ward, the Rowans. All the staff very pleasant. Andrew was less manic but still firmly inhabiting a fantasy land – or to be more accurate, several fantasy lands. We had a chat with the ward manager and the consultant, then headed for home, stopping only for an Olympic breakfast at Thrapston. Well, you have to, don’t you?

And now Linda is just finishing Dot’s hair, having cut mine halfway through this blog. Tuesday Group tonight, which I will have to sort out myself, because Dot has a meeting at 6.30pm. She may or may not be back for our meal.

Looking over my shoulder

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Chronicle in action at Dragon Hall. From left, Rob Knee, Caroline Gilfillan, Kay Riggs, Tim Lenton

Well, it happened. Reading the Pastons dawned sunny and reasonably warm last Friday, and everything fell into place. The speakers all turned up and did a good job; I operated the laptop for the pictures and struggled through after one or two initial blips. The two performances by Chronicle (the first to about 25-30, the second to half a dozen) went well and got good feedback. The exhibition and re-enactors performed well.

Dot brought Jessie, and Jude came too. From church Ray and Christine were joined by David Archer. At least two people came from London, including a man who used to be admired by Dot at primary school; unfortunately she wasn’t feeling well enough to chat him up: her catarrh lingered on, and still does to a much lesser extent. Anna’s sister Nicola also put in an appearance.

In the afternoon a number of USAF children came and joined in the re-enacting as well as one or two other things. The favourable weather meant that we could spill into the garden and was also good for Rob’s tour of the Norwich Paston sites. For more information, click here.

Afterwards Dot and I had a meal with Jessie back at 22, and we then took her home, continuing on to Paston to deliver various items to the Barn. Lucy was still not too good (she hadn’t been well enough to come), but she showed us details of a couple of houses in Bacton she was interested in.

Elizabeth had left her memory stick behind, so on Saturday I delivered it to her home in Little Melton before driving dow to see nephew Joe’s photos at a New Buckenham Photo Exhibition. Liked his stuff very much, and there were other good photos on show too. Dot would have enjoyed it, but she was still suffering a bit, so didn’t come. Bought some cards.

From New Buckenham I drove across country via Hapton and Hempnall to Ditchingham, where I picked up Joy from her retreat house. Arrived a bit early (I hadn’t been sure how long it would take), but Joy was pretty much ready. Drove her home, buying some milk on the way.

Meanwhile Andrew had taken a turn for the worst and was sectioned because they felt he wasn’t in a position to remain at the hospital voluntarily. Apparently he has been quite hostile to staff. I decided to go over to see him on the Monday, partly because I was worried about what was happening to his stuff. In the end I didn’t go because A Ethel was taken ill and had to go into hospital, where she remains. Dot and I saw her last night in the company of Angela and Rodney, who returned here afterwards for coffee.

I managed to get in touch with one of the carers (Paul), who assured me that Andrew’s stuff was being taken care of, and I’ve now decided to go over next Monday, in the company of Phil, who had been in Southampton last week while Joy was in Ditchingham. I spent most of yesterday dealing with church money and taking it to the bank, then sending out invoices for hall use. We also finally got a visit from a gas person, who serviced our system. It was OK, though of course we were urged to buy a new boiler, and of course we didn’t.

Today I shall be heading to the hospital shortly for an x-ray on my left shoulder. Or a look over my shoulder, you might say.

On the brink of a major event

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One of my former homes – 191 Beanfield Avenue, Coventry (early 1950s)

We’re on the brink. Tomorrow is our major, much-anticipated Reading the Pastons event at Dragon Hall, organised largely by me and therefore the cause of much disquiet in my brain over many weeks. Who will turn up? Too few? Too many? The announcement I thought I had put in the event section of the EDP wasn’t there this morning, but according to Sarah at Dragon Hall there have been quite a few inquiries. So we’ll see.

Today I went out to Paston to collect various items for the event, such as the content of the bookstall, some costumes and some exhibition boards. Lucy was in a pretty bad state and will probably not come tomorrow. Rob also brought some stuff from the Barn and we both found our way to DragonHall by about 4pm. Also there: Anna and Elizabeth, two of our three speakers, who brought their Powerpoint presentations to see if they worked. They didn’t at first, but I think Sarah has it under control. (Elizabeth also brought Karen’s.)

After that had been sorted, I helped Sarah put out the tables and chairs, having mistakenly allowed Rob to go, thinking the heavy moving would take place tomorrow morning. Ah well. Home by 6pm, and Dot did me steak and chips. She is very much better, although still suffering bouts of coughing.

I eventually remembered to get my blood test results, and I have now reached almost exactly five years since my operation without showing any signs of a relapse. My PSA is still less than 0.1. Haven’t been feeling 100%, but that’s brilliant news. Rang up Warwick Hospital today, and Andrew seems to be much improved. Joy M, however, has been in a lot of pain, but still manages to produce some good poetry, and we’re continuing our  tanka series.

Joy L has been at Ditchingham all week, in retreat while Phil spends some time in Southampton. I took her there on Monday, and we spent some time looking for Lavinia House, but got there in the end. I stayed for a cup of tea with her and the woman in charge of the guest house, Barbara.

Because of Dot’s illness we had no Tuesday Group this week. Yesterday I had lunch (chicken soup, bread and cheese) with Rob and Penny at North Walsham to discuss the sections we’re putting together for the Paston DVD, and then Caroline and Kay arrived for a Chronicle rehearsal. Made a few slight changes, but it went pretty well. We’re performing it twice tomorrow.

Dot and car both unable to go out

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A rare picture of our new wall (usually inaccessible or hidden behind Wildlife vehicles)

Ok, that’s far too long a gap – yet again. In self-justification, I was going to do it at the weekend, but someone decided late on Saturday afternoon that they weren’t going to be able to do a sermon the next morning, so I had to write one. As part of my sermon was about how self-justification is unnecessary and not very appealing, you can ignore that last bit. Oh dear: too late.

Dot has been ill too. She gets really bad colds that don’t normally last all that long but are extremely unpleasant for her while they last. They’re also quite frightening, especially when she can’t stop coughing and can’t breathe. She’s been in bed for a couple of days, but is now improving (though still in bed at the moment).

Last night of course she was unable to go to the final concert of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival at St Andrew’s Hall – a performance of Verdi’s Requiem by the London Philharmonic and the Festival Chorus. I took Judy instead, and she was most appreciative. Rightly so, because it was  superb. This is really not my sort of music, but it was top quality. I was particularly impressed by the soprano. At the end one of the cellists mouthed to one of her colleagues that it had been a good performance. She was right.

We saw the Cracknells in passing. Wouldn’t have thought it was their sort of thing either, but their eclecticism shouldn’t surprise me any more.

The weather yesterday and today is really summery. It wasn’t too bad on Saturday, but there was a cool wind while Colin and his son were rebuilding part of our wall at the back and erecting a new trellis. I have to say it looked really good, despite Dot’s not being able to supervise.

Dot’s car is ill too. It sprung a leak in the power steering fluid reservoir, which had to be replaced, but it will apparently take three weeks to do so; so we are a one-car family. I have looked carefully at our diaries, and I think we shall be able to cope. Perhaps we only need one car… Dot doesn’t think so.

It went into the garage last Monday, and the same evening I played my last game of chess this season, beating Andy Pandian (Oh yes) to reach 6/8 in my tournament. I still don’t know if this will be enough to win it. I suspect not. But as it may be my last game for a while, and it features a very nice finish, here it is (well, the finish, anyway):

At this point I envisaged a nice sacrificial finish, but I had to persuade him to allow it, so I played 40 Qd6. Exchanging queens would give me an easily superior position, so as I expected, he played 40…Qc3, whereupon I played 41 f6. This wins whatever he does, but happily he didn’t see the main threat and played 41…axb, and on my 42 Qxf8+ he resigned immediately. He has to take the Queen, when 43 Rd8 is mate. Not difficult, but quite pleasant.

Longish meeting of the Paston Trustees on a very chilly Thursday. Dot dropped me at Rob’s while she took Jessie to the crematorium at Horsham St Faith’s (it was the anniversary of Frank’s death), and Rob gave me a lift to Paston. Much discussion on many issues, which I somehow managed to translate the next day into coherent minutes. My preparations for Dragon Hall seem OK (I had seen Sarah again) and they were fairly impressed by my new flyers. I’m OK at producing publicity, but I’m not sure what to do with it.

Much else going on in the background. A has now been transferred to a smaller ward after he had become very hostile to other patients for no apparent reason, but on the plus side he is now getting visits from church friends who I got in touch with. Phil is in Southampton with Sam, who has just got a new job at St Swithun’s Girls’ School in Winchester, which should suit him down to the ground. Meanwhile I’m taking Joy to Ditchingham this afternoon for a five-day retreat.

 

 

Close to heaven on earth

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David and Chrissy

Another packed week, starting last Sunday (as weeks do) with an evening meal at the Greens’. The four of us were joined by Anna’s sister, Nicola (Mendikova) and her friend Jane (John) from Trowse. Fantastic evening: good food and wine, plus excellent conversation. Suggested to Howard afterwards that this was pretty close to my idea of heaven on earth: good food, good wine and conversation with four beautiful women.

On Monday I managed to beat Norman Thomas at chess, bringing my score to 5/7, but even if I beat Andy P tomorrow, the tournament result depends on other scores. I’ve decided that I’m going to have a proper break from chess next year.

Tuesday saw Dot and I on the road to Warwick to visit Andrew in hospital. The day started bright but deteriorated sharply later, with quite a bit of rain. Andrew was in a sorry state, possibly the worst I’ve seen him. We were able to talk to the nurse, the doctor and Andrew’s new care worker, Elaine (bubbly), plus his old case worker, Paul, who is pretty tight-lipped. Afterwards Dot and I went to look at Andrew’s prospective new home, Minster Lodge, which is for people with mental health problems. The room earmarked for him is quite nice, with steps to the garden, but the place is a bit of a warren, and I’m not sure how he’ll get on with the 23 other residents. I was however impressed with the manager, Helen.

In between Warwick and Minster Lodge, Dot and I had fish and chips at the Burnt Post on Kempas Highway. Excellent. Bit of nostalgia there: very close to one of my childhood homes in Beanfield Avenue. Of course we would never have darkened the doors of the Burnt Post in those days.

On Wednesday I had a blood test, and in the evening a DCC meeting – on my own, while Dot was at an orchestra rehearsal. On Thursday we installed Infinity, or at least BT did. The engineer was outstanding. He arrived shortly before I had to leave for a session with Sharon, my physiotherapist and was extremely helpful, brushing aside fears that our set-up, featuring a hole in the wall, might present problems. By the time I got home he was about to leave, and everything was working fine and fast.

The next day we travelled down to Mottingham to visit the Hendersons. Maryta’s father was also staying, and he is in good shape mentally for 88, though rather fragile physically. After lunch we walked round the grounds and had a look at the new school Gallery, with its Mervyn Peake exhibition, in the company of the headmaster and his wife!

The following morning we left just after 10am to travel to Caddington – a 1¼-hour trip through the Blackwall tunnel and along the M11 and M25. We arrived shortly before David and the children got back from swimming in the company of Chrissy, who had arrived from Canada the previous day. We all went for lunch at the Red Lion somewhere in the country (beyond Markyate), a lovely pub with excellent service. Amy was not feeling too well, and we left without having sweet. However, this was compensated for somewhat by Chrissy’s pavlova, which she completed after the children were picked up by Vicky. Before that however I had a good session of cricket in the garden with Oliver, who is a promising bowler. Others joined in now and then.

We left not long after enjoying the pavlova, and Dot drove back to Norwich in close to a record time. I was feeling shattered. Meanwhile I suspect that Caddington was close to heaven on earth for those left behind.

Alien experience at the Cathedral

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Rêve d’Herbert in the Cathedral Close

Pressure has eased somewhat, although we still remain pretty busy. Weather is a bit cooler, but not unpleasant. Gave my talk to the Norwich tourist guides on Thursday evening, and it went well after an initial panic when the projector wouldn’t work because it was switched to video instead of computer, something with my limited experience I didn’t know it could do.

About 15-20 guides present, including the unique and obscure Jude, who landed me in it in the first place. Surprisingly, she brought Roger with her. The talk lasted about an hour, with a few questions afterwards, and the guides were quite complimentary. I had been worried about speaking to them because of their vast knowledge, but I must have come up with one or two things they didn’t know.

One of them came up with something I didn’t know: one of the many John Pastons – this one a brother of Erasmus, Clement and Thomas – is buried in Huntingfield Church in Suffolk. Will have to go and look at some point. Did a bit of research on it when I came home.

I had managed to complete the brochures on Pastons in Norwich and Dragon Hall (a new, smaller flyer) by the time I gave the talk, and so was able to make them available. The Pastons in Norwich one was Vistaprint, and I had to manually correct an error in all 100 of them (my error), but managed to do it without spoiling the look. The other one I created myself on Pages. Left a few of them at the Library yesterday after attending a talk there by Dr Karen Smyth on Julian of Norwich.

This is Julian week, and after the talk (and a chat with Karen, who is speaking at Dragon Hall on the Pastons, and Louise Øhrstrøm, the Danish Julian expert who spoke at St Augustine’s) we went up and looked at a display of books on Julian. Interesting map of medieval Norwich.

March of the aliens

Afterwards Dot and I had lunch at Presto and had a long chat with Kathy and Roberto. In the evening we went up to the Cathedral Close for the opening event of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival, which was an amazing performance by a group of French artists unlike anything I’ve ever seen. They were rather like Iain M Banks’ Culture books, in that any attempt to describe what was going on would fall woefully short. Basically they were on stilts, shrouded in white, and used inflated costumes and lights to produce eerie, alien effects as they walked through the crowds, ending down on the Green with a kind of dance and launch of lighted balloons. Incredible. Dot and I were so intent on taking pictures that we lost each other in the crowds at one point, but were reunited under a lamppost by the Green. I am not easily impressed by spectacle, but this was totally exceptional.

Thursday had been a good day even before the talk at Central Baptist Church to the guides. It was one of those days when everything falls into place. After taking Dot up into the city I left the car at Kwik Fit for a slow puncture to be fixed, and while there noticed that they did windscreen wipers. Dot had broken one of hers, so when I returned with my car later in the day, she took hers, and they did it on the spot. Also arranged for BT to come and install Infinity (there’s a poem in that somewhere) and British Gas to do our annual service. And I got in touch with Andrew’s carer, had along chat and got her mobile phone number. Should be going over there on Tuesday with Dot, hopefully to catch the doctor on his ward rounds and to see Minster Lodge, which Andrew said would “do for now”. Deep shock.

On Wednesday I had a nice surprise when I visited the doctor: my blood pressure had dropped considerably, despite my not taking the additional pill that the doctor had been under the impression I was taking. He still tried to persuade me to take it, but I declined.

In the evening Dot and I went to the Christian Resource Centre to hear the coroner, William Armstrong, give a before-dinner talk. He is an old admirer of Dot’s (they were at City College together), and the two of them had a chat afterwards while I was talking to Régine Godfrey and her husband Peter, next to whom we had been sitting. She is French and writes for an Archant magazine; so we had something in common (complaints about page designers). I was also able to keep up with her remarks about French politics and the French words that she used on and off, so I was quite pleased. They live in the old hospital complex on St Stephen’s.

The talk was excellent too, as was the meal, though I think I prefer the usual format of having the meal first.

On Bank Holiday Monday we called to see Jessie for tea and cake, then I walked to the cemetery to get a bit of exercise. Dot joined me there, of course. A beautiful day, and I think we did well to keep clear of the crowds who apparently, and understandably, flocked to the coast. Today we’re awaiting the arrival of Linda to cut our hair. Much cooler now, with a bit of rain.