Homage to Catalonia

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Cadaques

Third day back from Catalonia and beginning to recover from the journey. Not the bit between Roses and St Pancras – the bit between St Pancras and Norwich. But it could have been worse. When I bought the tube ticket, I was told we had to travel via Holborn because of work on the Circle line. Simple enough, except that everyone else in London seemed to be doing the same thing.

After battling our way through the system we emerged at Liverpool Street to find no trains scheduled for Norwich. On mentioning to one railway guy that we wanted to travel to Norwich, he riposted: “You’ll be lucky.” But he had a twinkle in his eye and directed us to Platform 13, and the train to Southend. Apparently we had to alight at Billericay, catch a coach to Witham and then another train to Norwich. Us and a large number of Norwich City fans. Norwich City had just lost 4-1 to Chelsea.

And that’s roughly what happened, with a half-hour wait at Witham and no buffet on either of the trains. The Norwich train was painfully slow and felt as if it was going to break down any minute. We reached Norwich at about 12.30am. Happily the City fans did not turn nasty and were quite funny, except for their inability to control certain bodily functions. Note to City fans and young men everywhere: this is actually not funny at all. Really. What was funny was that all the railway staff had jackets bearing the words “Customer Services”, which obviously has a completely different meaning for them.

Anyway, back to the holiday, which was exceptionally good. Here is a day-by-day summary:

Friday (September 28): Straightforward journey by train and tube to our hotel, which turned out to be only yards from St Pancras Station. Excellent hotel (London Pullman), friendly staff. Walked to the station for good meal at Carluccio’s, followed by coffee/tea back at the hotel.

Saturday: Started off sunny, but worse and worse the further south we got. Raining at Roses. Early start in London (6am alarm) meant we were very tired towards the end. TGV very impressive up to Valence, then slower, but scenery was beautiful near the coast. In the hotel, which was first class, we had a really nice buffet meal. The quality of this was high all through the week. Half a bottle of wine free each time, and a huge choice of food.

Sunday: Fine, sunny but very windy on boat for our cruise to Cadaques, a stunningly beautiful town beloved of Salvador Dali. The coastline was rocky, and on the way back the rather large boat nosed into a cave for a close look. Act of bravado, or just normal behaviour for a Catalan? I suspect the latter. While in Cadaques we had a wander round the narrow and steep streets and eventually stopped for coffee (and loo) in a seafront cafe. Back in Roses we had lunch at the Balkan Grill (mushroom and garlic tapa with chips) then spent a couple of hours in the Citadel, a huge walled area full of history. All in all we walked about six miles during the day.

The coast path

Monday: Sunny and warm throughout. This was a free day, so we slept in a bit. Left at 11.15 for walk to north end of Roses and along the coast to the next village, a tiny one called Canyelles, where we had lunch in Antonio’s restaurant: grilled prawns and sangria. Delicious. On the way back we stopped at a small beach, where Dot paddled, and we saw huge numbers of  Laser dinghies lined up for a big European event. Everywhere in Catalonia quite big fish were visible in the clear water. Back at the hotel we had a dip in the rather cool swimming pool, but it didn’t last long. Went to bed early after a short post-supper walk. Eight miles in all during the day.

Tuesday: Very warm again, and we spent all day in Barcelona – a two-hour coach trip away. After a comfort stop at a motorway service station (today featured the worst loos of the entire holiday) we progressed to the cathedral, which I’m sure would have been much more impressive without its scaffolding. What was visible was certainly up there, if you see what I mean, and even in October the building was surrounded by huge crowds, most of them probably on coach trips like us.A coach tour of Barcelona’s high spots followed, ending at one of the highest, from where we could look over the town and the huge port, featuring two or three massive cruise ships.Most of us were gasping for the loo by now, and again they were very poor (but at least they were there).

Dot and Monica in Barcelona

The coach dropped us at Placa de Catalunya for some free time, and here we met our friend Monica, who took us for a lovely lunch round the corner and off the beaten track. Really nice to see her: she was very welcoming and insisted on paying, which was not the idea at all. Rejoined the bus at 4.30pm for the trip back to Roses, and the guide, who was very nice but spent much of the time warning us about pickpockets, eventually stopped talking.

Wednesday: Again pleasantly warm. We took the optional excursion to Girona on advice from people on the previous trip (relayed through one of our more sociable members), and it was an outstanding trip. Girona is a lovely old town reminding me a little of Chur in Switzerland, but there was a great walk along the walls, which we followed with a coffee stop, where Dot made her first successful attempt at ordering tallat, as recommended by Monica.  This is a strong, smallish coffee with a dash of milk, and Dot quickly became addicted. Afterwards we wandered the narrow streets and shopped a bit for gifts. Back in Roses for the afternoon Dot bought a scarf and we had a tapa each of chips and sauce. Catalonian tapas are quite big (one is usually enough), and they are very good at chips. Six miles in all today (3 yesterday), but not enough to offset the large evening meals and very tempting breakfasts.

The bridge at Besalu

Thursday: Sea mist at first, but soon sunny and warm. Left at 9.15 for official excursion to Figueres and the impressive Salvador Dali Foundation. An amazing place, and our appreciation of him as an artist went up several notches. After a crepe we took in his jewellery exhibition as well, then returned to the coach (this was more of a coach holiday than a train one) for a short drive to Besalu, a small town which features a spectacular fortified bridge. Lovely narrow streets again and a brilliant miniatures museum, of which the high point was the micro-miniatures, eg a camel train created in the eye of the needle (quite witty, that one). Afterwards we had time for a stroll and a delicious mango ice cream before returning to the coach.

Friday: Our final free day, so a slightly later start. Rather more cloud as we started our journey by road trail to Joncols. Bit chilly to start with, but it quickly cleared out as we got high up on the cliffs and into the Parc Naturel, which is apparently “sauvage”. For some reason the commentary seemed to assume that “sauvage” is an English word. Spectacular journey on rough roads, ending high up on a cliff with great views (after 100-yard walk). Whole thing was “magical” – Dot Lenton. On the way back by a slightly different route saw Angela and Gordon Reynolds hiking into the interior. Got to know them later in the bar after dinner, and it turns out she is a retired vicar and they live not far from St Luke’s! They passed us again as we sat in a cafe drinking sangria and eating tapas. Before returning to the hotel we watched the Lasers coming in after a day’s racing, and I helped a Swiss guy with his boat trailer. Claim to fame. Seven miles today (3 yesterday).

Saturday: Homeward bound, as our excellent tour manager put it. The entire group was in the coach eight minutes early, but we were like that. Dot and I were frequently last or almost last, but we were never late. After a bit of a wait at Figueres station,we were on board and ready for the off, which was at 10.20, after the Barcelona connection arrived. Various comments gave me the idea for a poem, so it was time well spent. Straightforward journey to Paris, though the buffet inexplicably had no milk. It was raining in Paris, so we got a bit wet transferring to coach and back to rail again. While we were alighting from the coach, someone attempted to steal our tour manager’s bag, but he was spotted and pursued by said TM, who was able to retrieve it. Happily, because it contained all his documents, including our Eurostar tickets. Quite a long time to wait for Eurostar, but we spent it convivially, buying wine with our last euros and chatting to Angela and Gordon. On time at St Pancras, thanks and well-earned tip to TM, and the rest you know.

 

The wilds of Wood Dalling

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Sky at Paston last week

Feeling the usual trepidation before setting off on a holiday abroad. Not sure why, because in this case everything is organised for us. All we have to do is get to St Pancras about 7am tomorrow. But of course there’s concern that we pack the right things (the Spanish weather seems to be taking a sudden turn for the cooler), don’t forget anything crucial, and find the hotel in London. An added complication today is that our hairdresser is coming at 11am: this wasn’t in the original plan, but she couldn’t come earlier in the week, because she’d been in hospital and couldn’t drive.

It’s certainly been cooler here this week. On Monday I met an old friend, Sue Moore, at the Forum and we had tea and a snack in the Glass House for a pleasant couple of hours, catching up on holidays, illnesses, and so on. As you do. On Tuesday we had a reduced Tuesday Group with several absences, and on Wednesday I drove out to the wilds of Wood Dalling, one of the biggest parishes in Norfolk with 14, 16 or 22 miles of roads, depending on who is boasting.

So plenty of scope for error, but eventually I found Katy’s Cottage, which is poet Kay Riggs’ house. Rob and Caroline were equally successful, and so we were able to have a Chronicle meeting at which we slimmed down our Hungate piece for use at Mannington Hall. Kay’s husband David then showed us his recording studio, small but impressive, in case we decide to record the performance for possible sale at Paston events. I also toyed with the idea of recording Far Cry, but I fear he may be expecting a more professional performance than I can deliver.

Rob said he had received a letter from Jo, resigning as a Paston trustee on health grounds, which is a bit of a blow as she takes on a huge amount of work, especially to do with the re-enacting and the possible use of the village hall. My initial reaction was that we need two new trustees just to cover what she does, but I spoke to Lucy last night, and she said that before Jo joined she used to to much of it on her own. However, we were a bit dubious about continuing with the village hall project.

This was at a meeting of the Norwich Record Society at County Hall, where they launched a volume of edited letters by Sir Robert Paston. Interesting introduction to it by a professor (not the author), painting a quite detailed picture of the penultimate Paston. Jo and John were also there.

Dot’s cousin Roger also called round on Wednesday evening. Dot has had a busy week, much of it in front of her computer sorting out her autumn programme and supplying information for a book, and now of course, as we’re going away for a week, she has to clean the house. I’m not sure why.

Farewell to Joan Beales

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Peter and Joan’s wedding

The remnants of summer hung on for Joan Beales’ funeral at Attleborough on Friday. When the sun was out it was pleasant, but dark clouds brought a bit of a chill, which penetrated the church and brought a shiver to the cemetery. We arrived early, which was just as well because the car park was already full and we were lucky to find a slot where someone was just leaving.

So we were in the church over half an hour early, sitting at the back of the central section, in front of Rosie and Billy Wright. It then got rather confusing, because Angela arrived and said that Peter wanted us down the front. Because there wasn’t a huge amount of space there, and we didn’t want the immediate family to run out of seats, Angela and Dot sat at the front together, with me sitting further back next to Rodney, and Vicki elsewhere. Not ideal, especially as the funeral directors produced an extra row of seats which went unused.

It was a lovely service, though, with a really nice and thorough eulogy from Margaret White, a friend of Joan’s from her acting group. There were also recordings of Joan singing and then Laura singing (Fields of Gold). The burial was at the cemetery, across the car park, and we then went to a reception at Peter Beales Roses. The rain held off, and we enjoyed food, punch and conversation with other members of the family, including Donna, who had made the trip from Wolverhampton that morning and was returning to see a show in Birmingham in the evening. That’s what I call a full day.

At the reception I kept expecting Joan to come round every corner. She was a lovely woman, and will be much missed. Afterwards Dot and I called in on Auntie Ethel, who was understandably upset that she hadn’t been able to go. But it would have been too difficult. We were relieved after a while by Angela and Rodney, who had been to Waitrose.

Yesterday, while Dot was in the city, talking to Anne and buying a new suitcase, I finished sorting out my old chess games (up to a point) and wrote an article for En Passant, featuring the game I won for the school chess championship in 1962!  After a bad night with a dodgy stomach, I delivered my sermon this morning and then – with help from Howard and Phil – cleared up some paint that had been thrown over the paving stones outside the hall. As autumn finally arrived in early afternoon, with a chill heavy rain, Dot and I  decided to stay in the house for the rest of the day, spending part of it rewriting stuff on Dot’s P4C page, using html.

Down to the Plantation Garden

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Jessie and Dot in the Plantation Garden (iPhone picture)

At last the furniture has returned, and after a few minor alarms, it turned out to be all complete, including brackets and screws. The bookshelves proved a bit tricky to get right, but everything else was pretty straightforward, if a bit tiring. So now we have a spanking brand new room, and the roof is repaired. And so far we haven’t paid a penny. This will change shortly, 0f course.

After getting everything in order, I relaxed by playing a tournament chess game against Norman Thomas, and won fairly easily. My game score totally vanished on its way home, and I had to reconstruct the game while I could remember it. I even returned to the club in case I’d left it there, but no…

On Tuesday we restarted the Tuesday Group, which went pretty well, with much catch-up talk. Then yesterday Jessie came up by bus for lunch, and we all visited the impressive sunken Plantation Garden off Earlham Road in the afternoon. There was an autumnal wind, but quite a bit of sun, so it was a pleasant excursion, especially as I had never actually seen the garden. Bit of a challenge parking in the area, but still… After tea I drove Dot and Jessie to North Walsham, and Dot stayed with her while I attended a meeting of the Paston Trustees, where I took the minutes. Lucy seemed a bit better, but Jo is very stressed. Rob was calm as ever.

Today I have spent much of my time writing a sermon for Sunday. It came rather more easily than the last one; I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not. Tomorrow it’s Joan’s funeral, and I’ve just heard that my “uncle” Richard – the widower of my aunt Vi in South Africa – has also died. I didn’t know him very well, and he was in his nineties, but it’s always sad when someone in your family goes.

Party for returning City fans

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Patricia, Liz and Jacqui by the pool at Snares Hill Cottage

Tomorrow our furniture is returning, although Amy and Oliver agreed yesterday that they liked the living room as it is: spacious. Dot and I had returned the hi-fi and the television to the room and re-hung the curtains, but other than that we had restricted ourselves to just a couple of chairs, the piano stool and some cushions, plus temporary children’s items.

The children, and David, were with us overnight on Friday so that Oliver could go with Dot to the Norwich City match against West Ham, which was a kind of birthday present, four days late. His main present, also late of course, was a new guitar, which he seemed to like. It is a Yamaha, and has a nice tone. I also bought him a book on the Friday when I popped into the city to buy a new lectionary diary.

The redecoration and roof were finished on Tuesday as scheduled. On Wednesday Dot and I travelled to Duck End in Essex for another Otterspool reunion, at the home of Pete and Liz Stabler. Beautiful house, and a much better day than had been forecast, so we were able to spend time wandering around the stunning and extensive garden. Pete had broken his back falling from a ladder a couple of months ago, but was able to get around wearing a brace. Also present were Alan and Janice, Barry and Pat and Jacqui and Brian – and Pete Stokes, whose wife Jan died suddenly a few months ago. Great to see him; really pleased he came.

We had had a hard time finding the house (though we’d both been there before), but we eventually asked, and got good directions. On the way home we went a more direct but complicated route through Bury St Edmunds (instead of Saffron Walden and the A11) and encountered some of the darkest clouds I’ve ever seen, together with very heavy rain. Still, we made it without incident, thanks to Dot’s calm driving.

We had a lovely day with David and the children. Oliver enjoyed the match, despite the 0-0 scoreline, and Amy enjoyed playing, partly on her own and partly with me: she (we) prepared a Norwich City party for the wanderers’ return, which went down very well. The rest of us all availed ourselves of the table tennis table, newly released from its burden of curtains – best storage space I could think of.

After the service this morning, at which refurbishers of the church hall were officially thanked and we had three unexpected visitors from the UEA, we had a lunch prepared by Carrie and others. Afterwards Dot and I had a game of table tennis, during which I found a box of old chess games and books that I had lost. So quite satisfying really.

Chilly wind blowing round Mr Bunn

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Dot at sunny Southwold

The weather has turned to autumn, with a chilly wind blowing around Mr Bunn, who has been on the roof for the last couple of days, repairing our valley and replacing some tiles. He should finish later today, as should Tim the decorator (no, not me: this one’s from Yarmouth and knows what he’s doing). Both very pleasant and helpful guys. Tim woke me at 8am yesterday, but today I was ready for him, despite having a lousy night for some reason. Dot is out at Acle school, but I’m expecting her back soon.

So the living room should be completed and dry by tomorrow. Unfortunately we can’t get the furniture back till Monday, but that’s a minor thing really.

On Saturday, when it was still relatively warm, we had our hair cut and then went to Southwold to celebrate the Robinsons’ ruby wedding. We arrived a couple of hours early and after driving round by the harbour (spoiled visually by a lot of construction work going on) we parked on the seafront and walked down to the pier, where we had a cup of tea in a cafe out of the wind. Then we drove up to the Swan and negotiated its parking challenge (the most contorted parking area I’ve ever come across) before Dot went into the loo and changed into her dinner party clothes. The Robinson family duly arrived – children earlier than parents, who brought Francine with them. Eleven of us in all, and a very nice meal.

I was preaching at church on Sunday and completed my preparation less than an hour before the service started. Still, it went OK, and afterwards I sat in the church for an hour waiting to see if anyone wanted to look round – it was Heritage Day. One woman did, the sparse attendance possibly down to a mistake in the Heritage booklet, which had us open only on the Saturday. When Claire arrived to take over, Dot and I made for North Walsham via Morrisons (I was almost out of petrol) and took in the cemetery before visiting Jessie and supplementing our lunchtime sandwiches with a piece of cake. The cemetery was at its best – really warm in the afternoon sun.

Last night I replayed my knockout chess game against Greg, which was again an up-and-down affair. I emerged eventually with a clear advantage, but in time trouble couldn’t be sure of the winning line. I messed it up, but he obliged by taking so long over his calculations that he lost on time. So I am through to the next round.

Echoing to the sound of footsteps

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Roger, Barbara and Dot at Blakeney

We now have an empty living room that echoes to the sound of footsteps. But the ceiling is up and skimmed, complete with coving and substantially more insulation than we had originally. Now I just have to persuade Mr Bunn the Builder to come and repair the roof. The felt is definitely in need of replacement where the leak was, and in a couple of other places too. I’ve taken pictures. Redecoration should take place early next week after the ceiling is completely dry.

This week has as a result been rather odd. I’ve spent quite a lot of time trying to write a sermon and become involved in other computerish things – most excitingly the resurrection of my website, that David has done a brilliant job with. I really like the look of it and have posted something new to celebrate.

Today, in very warm weather, Dot and I played pitch and putt on Mousehold, which would have been a lot more fun if (a) I hadn’t played so badly and (b) I hadn’t been worrying about finding details of our travel insurance for our Treyn holiday. The policy was online but it proved very difficult to find because the directions to it were out of date. I think it’s all sorted now. I suspect (a) and (b) may have been related, but of course I could just be losing whatever touch I had.

Magical spot discovered by accident

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Oliver on the beach at Woolacombe

As soon as the Murrays returned to Canada, the weather improved. Yesterday could almost be described as hot, especially if you had been walking into the city, paying in some church cheques and then, out of the blue, buying a guitar for Oliver’s birthday. Last Friday, by contrast, was not hot, but we did manage to get out into the garden for a quick drink before retreating inside for a meal with Roger, Barbara, Anne and Philip. Excellent meal by Dot – citrus salmon – despite her not feeling great, but I was so tired that I actually went to sleep toward the end of the evening. I don’t suppose anyone noticed.

On Saturday it was quite pleasant, and we went to Holt, where Dot and Barbara shopped while Roger and I went our separate ways. I accidentally found this beautiful area called Spout Hills and walked through it and on along a path into a hilly field. Quite magical in places. Started writing a poem. Also bought a new book by Alan Garner called Boneland, which is supposed to be a sequel to the Brisingamen trilogy. Went on to Blakeney and had afternoon tea in the Blakeney Hotel’s upstairs lounge, then walked a little, but the wind was quite chilly by then. Drove home via Salthouse (brief walk on the shingle), then West Runton and by country lanes to Aylsham.

In the evening we had a really nice meal at Loch Fyne. Our waiter, Pedro, was brilliant, and I entered into the spirit of things by having the seasonal fish, which was turbot – and very good too with samphire and chips. This was a sort of celebration of the Murrays’ 45th wedding anniversary, which was actually on the Sunday, when they were flying home – which meant that Barbara would be practically unconscious for most of the time. Afterwards, there was the packing, while Dot and I watched Match of the Day.

They left early on Sunday, in case of hold-ups on the road, but actually made it to Heathrow in record time and rang us to tell us so: unfortunately the phone rang in the middle of one of our quiet periods in church, and Dot had to rush out with her bag, because the phone was somewhere in there… We spent the rest of the day (with breaks) clearing the living room of all we could in preparation for the work that is now going on. Trickiest bit was keeping the curtains neat and depositing them on the table tennis table, but it was followed closely by shifting the hi-fi and the television, plus DVD-player, Humax and Apple TV – then reconnecting all the wires. Everything worked except the television, because the aerial wasn’t receiving a signal. We could still use Apple TV and watch recorded programmes, but not live TV. I Have called in our expert aerial man Ryan, and he will be arriving later today.

Yesterday the furniture men arrived promptly at 9am, and all seemed to be well until they found they couldn’t safely dismantle the bookcase because the top bit was nailed on. So they shifted it off the wall and made it movable so that it could be worked round. Everything else (bar the piano) was removed, either by us or by them. The house is now a mite cluttered. Today we have the asbestos men, who arrived at about 9.45am and are almost finished. They had to drive here from Lincoln, which seems a bit excessive.

To round off yesterday we had a DCC meeting, during which I presented the financial report. Happily there were no questions I couldn’t answer. Today Dot is doing Philosophy at Kersey in Suffolk, which I happened to stumble on during an earlier inspection trip and which is a lovely little village with a ford in the middle of it and a steep hill up to the church. Nothing to do with Philosophy, but a nice setting for it.

High winds and rain lead to abandoning walk

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Captain Oliver on the rocks

Dot had a bad night on Monday, with much coughing, but she was determined to get to Morston Hall in the evening. Roger drove us so that I could have a drink or two, and the meal was as always excellent, exceeded in quality only by the service. Dot survived well enough, though her throat is very sensitive to vinegar at times like these, and she had one attack (and a much worse one earlier in the day). It is now Friday, and she is almost better. She is preparing a meal tonight for Roger and Barbara (who are in Essex again during the day) and Anne and Philip, who are joining us at 7pm.

We had another first-class meal yesterday, though I made a tactical error which made it rather less special for me. It was at the Ship Inn, Brancaster. I led with a “small” caesar salad and then went for fish and chips which, although very tasty, was far too big a portion, and I had to leave most of the chips and omit the sweet. The others made more judicious choices and raved about it. Once again, the service was first class, and there were vows to return.

Originally, this had been planned as a light lunch to precede a Walking event from Holkham – part of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. But the weather was so atrocious, and both Dot (especially) and Roger so below par, that in combination with Barbara’s sensitivity to to any temperature below really hot, we were persuaded to abandon the idea. This turned out to be the right decision in so many ways. Exceptionally high winds and driving rain would have made the walking awful even if we had been fit, and it would have been a big rush to get there after the Ship. So that was all good, then – which reminds me, we have already got through both series of Twenty Twelve on DVD, much to the Murrays’ delight. Last night we started on Dollhouse.

The weather generally has been fickle. On Wednesday Roger, Barbara and I had a long walk in the morning while Dot rested, and we took in the Rosary, Lion Wood, part of Mousehold and a large proportion of the Riverside Walk, plus the Cathedral loos and St Andrew’s Hall. It amounted to over six miles. Dot was keen to go to Cromer in the afternoon, so after lunch we set out despite a bad forecast, and got to Cromer just as it started to rain. We bought some fruit and vegetables on the way to the pier, but by the time we reached the sea front the rain was coming down in a quite determined fashion. We had a brief shot at the museum, but in the end I went and got the car and picked them up from in front of the church (traffic through the town was as always awful), driving home through driving rain.

In other news, I have had a couple of e-mails from a Jennifer Lenton in Australia who asked me about my family history. As a result of information she supplied, I am now led to believe that my great-great-great grandfather was one Thomas Lenton, who died in 1806 while working at Woburn Abbey in Bedfordshire and who is related to the said Jennifer. His son William seems to be the one whose tombstone is in Folksworth churchyard. Some more research needed there, though once you get back to 1800, sources are few and far between.

Arrangements for rebuilding our living room are now sorted out: furniture removal Monday, asbestos removal Tuesday, rebuilding ceiling Wednesday; redecoration the following Monday. Sounds like a barrel of laughs.

Long journey into Norfolk

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Oliver gets down to some serious photography

Later on the 22nd, I walked up the hill and along the path to Ilfracombe, which opened up to give nice views. Met the craft shop crew on the way back, and later in the day we all went to Woolacombe again. It was cooler and windier than before, but still pleasant enough for me to go into the sea with Oliver and Amy as they did some surfing: Dot hired an extra board for Amy, and I quite enjoyed myself.

Afterwards we took everything away from the beach hut and locked up, but it was too late to deposit the key, so Dot and I dropped it in the next morning, reclaiming the deposit. We then continued down the coast to Croyde, where I had spent a holiday as a child, but nothing rang a bell. It wasn’t far, but it was a very slow journey because of the narrow roads. When one queue met another queue, things got tricky, especially when there was a bus involved.

In the afternoon we all went down to the cove as the tide went out and made our way quite a good distance along the beach, looking for paths between the rocks that avoided deep pools. Amy took on the role of tour guide for a while, and Oliver took lots of photographs. He has a good eye for an effective picture. On the way back I took a different route and ended up having to jump the river, wall to wall.

In the evening we all went down to the Grampus for a meal, preceded by some outdoor table tennis. The food was exceptionally good: Oliver and I had steaks, and Roger had a second slice of banoffee pie. Very pleasant pub, to be recommended, which I did in the Daymer Cottage Guest Book.

Elegant Amy, at ease in any situation

On the Friday it rained as we packed up the cars, but it eased off as we left, about 9.45am. It was a bank holiday weekend, so the traffic was predictably bad, but we managed to stay together for the first services on the M4, where we had lunch and said goodbye to David and the children. We still stayed more or less together, though, until they left the M25 at the M1 junction. The M25 hadn’t been too bad (though it was pretty solid going the other way) until then, but it was getting worse as we reached the A1, so I took that route, up to Baldock and along the A505 to the A11. We managed to keep moving well enough until we reached Barton Mills, where there was a queue leaving the roundabout, so we took the normal evasive action through some nice Suffolk countryside and arrived home around 6pm.

On Saturday we decided to go to the Maddermarket for a production of A Murder is Announced, by Agatha Christie. This was remarkable in that it is the first time I have been to a play at the Maddermarket that was badly acted; it was pretty amateurish all round, and it was hard to know where to pin the blame. The director? Key roles? On the bright side, I ran into a couple of ex-Archant library people: Maureen Green and Frances Pearce. Had quite a long chat with Frances, who now lives in Aurania Avenue, behind my childhood home in Brian Avenue.

Yesterday I led the service, and Howard preached about the nature of holy places (everywhere). Unfortunately Dot had developed a sore throat and wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed in bed. However, she managed to come with us to the King’s Head and Ali Tandoori in the evening, with Heather and Simon, and we had a really good time.

Today Dot stayed in bed till late, but then got up, though she isn’t much better. The sore throat is less severe, but she’s developed a cough. Barbara and Roger have been visiting her sister and are just back (6.30pm). I cleaned the car out, getting rid of most of the sand, and did some food shopping. Also caught up with email backlog and the post. Now I will get us all some tea.