The picture is of  a cannon (inoperative) at the mouth of Hull marina, taking a shot at anything that moves in the Humber. If my camera was a Canon, that would be a neat pun, but it isn’t: it’s a Panasonic. Bit tricky, that. I was down there in the warm sun of Thursday afternoon, having checked over all the portfolios at the Hull Daily Mail which, quite surprisingly, seemed to be OK. I was meeting Sylvia, the internal verifier from Sussex, in the evening,  so I had a bit of time on my hands. Though it was hot in the town, by the river there was a chilly wind, and the water outside the harbour was noticeably choppy. Took a few pictures and walked back through the old town. All this was a part of Hull I had never seen: previously I had been in and out, not deviating. I have to say I was quite impressed. Sylvia’s train from London was cancelled, and the substitute arrived late. We walked back to the hotel and grabbed a meal. I had fish and chips. The chips were all right, but the fish looked as if if had been unwilling to take part.

Had quite a reasonable night: I normally sleep badly in hotels. The breakfast was excellent: continental style, including bread roll, hard-boiled eggs, cheese and cold meat. And other stuff, of course, but that suited me. As we ate it started raining. It had been overcast from the start, in stark contrast to the day before. By the time we left to walk to the office it was tipping it down, and if I were to say we didn’t get pretty wet, I would be lying. Still, no lasting damage. Portfolios checked again by Sylvia, just in time for the arrival of biscuits, followed by the external verifier, Anne Hayes. Happily all was in order, except some details from the original centre (PA Training), which Sylvia will obtain, and details of when I became qualified to assess, which I had forgotten. I emailed the certificates when I got home.

Train journey back was quite pleasant, with the sky gradually getting brighter. Changed at Grantham, where I said goodbye to Sylvia, and had to wait an hour for my connection. Had a sandwich and cup of tea, and the time soon passed. Something amusing happened at Ely. The guy sitting in the seat adjacent to mine, who was of the I’m-going-to-put-my-feet-on-the-opposite-seat-and-I-don’t-care-what-you-say variety, had been sitting with his back to the engine. When the bloke sitting almost opposite him got out, he immediately changed seats. Unfortunately, the train changes direction at Ely, so he was still sitting with his back to the engine. Worse (for him), a couple of people came and occupied the opposite seats, so he couldn’t put his feet up. I know I shouldn’t have felt rather satisfied, but I did. Of course I could be quite wrong: he might like travelling with his back to the engine and changed deliberately. But I don’t think so.

I arrived back to find my wife laid low by tonsillitis. She had seen the nurse, who as usual decided it was a virus and wouldn’t give her antibiotics. So that’s put that off for a few days. Meanwhile she had a bad night, but happily this morning her throat is less sore. I have cancelled the Coomes, who were supposed to be coming tomorrow, and stocked up on supermarket fodder. We were out of practically everything.

Don’t know where she got the throat thing from. We had a barbecue at Ed’s on Tuesday, but no-one there was ill. Then she went to a Nafpht meeting on Wednesday and the UEA on Thursday. The latter is the most probable. Of course we had our hair cut on Wednesday. That’s always risky. Weather is warm again today, but the forecast is not so good: rain in the offing.

Warm has become hot, with occasional rain. This morning it is sunny, and Dot is about to go off to Hethersett to see her aunt and cousin. I had a bad night and am feeling pretty tired. The last three days have been full: on Friday and Saturday we were at St Luke’s all day as volunteers for the Martin Laird visit. Caught a bit of what he said, and liked it. Yesterday I led the service at St Augustine’s and fitted a bell in the loo, as requested by an occasional visitor who is disabled. I can foresee problems involving intrigued toddlers and am going to write a note to go with it – not that that will avoid the toddler problem: I suppose it could make it worse. In the afternoon Fred and Sue came round for tea. They were in Norfolk for the marriage of his sister Marjorie to Pat. We spent a stimulating afternoon together, starting with a cup of tea in the garden (pictured: the weather was warm enough even for me) and ending with a sort of high tea. As a result the pizza at Ambient Wonder  in the evening was a step too far, and I had only the slimmest slice before realising that I really, really wasn’t hungry.

Dot and I decided to take a day off yesterday and, after leaving the MX5 to be MOT-tested, we went to Blakeney for lunch at the Manor Hotel (fried whitebait for me), then walked out along the quay before moving on to Cley, where we parked at the visitor centre and walked out to the hides. Very chill wind blowing directly into the hide, but if you could get out of the wind, it was a beautifully sunny and warm day. Got out of the wind for a while among the reeds, and tried to identify a few flowers and birds. While we were briefly in the hide, a birder kindly let us look through his new bit of kit and we saw a spoonbill and a redshank, which I believe are birds. From there to Cley Green, a beautifully green and quiet spot about a mile inland, with an excellent pub and outstandingly large church, which had not only bats but what appeared to be house martins nesting in the porch. Or church martins. Of course they could have been spoonbills or redshanks. (Dot is pictured in the pub garden, quietly pleased.)

Took a look at a beautiful slate carving in the memorial garden by Philippa, who I met at the Twenty Group party. It was in memory of former Cathedral Dean Alan Webster, who I noticed planted a tree on the riverside walk in 1972. Have written a poem partly inspired by memorials, trees, slate and the passing of time.

Eight at Tuesday Group last night, and it was warm enough to eat outside. Very sheltered in the back garden. Dot has now departed for Dickleburgh, to visit a school there. I have received the paperwork for my operation and discovered it was for a slightly different operation. I checked, and all is OK.

By the way, I lost my chess game on Monday. Misplayed the opening, and never recovered. Last of the season: I like to finish on a low note.

The stunning bridesmaids mentioned in my previous entry.

Bit of a gap there, but we’ve been so busy careering here and there with the Murrays that there’s been no time to stop and write it up. They left on the 9 o’clock train today and should be boarding the plane about now (3pm). The picture is of them and Dot emerging from an hour or so on the beach at Holkham on Saturday, during which we saw the tide coming in and several groups having to wade across the stream to safety. Quite exciting – but not very, very exciting. We had been hoping for a group of dwarves to attempt it. Earlier that day we had visited Wells (including the wonderful Big Blue Sky), had traditional fish and chips on the quay and moved on to a tea shop at Holkham, plus the very tempting Adnams kitchen and wine shop, to which we succumbed. After the beach we drove back home through the Holkham estate.

I see I have slipped out of sequence. Let us return to last Monday (the 18th), where we spent David’s birthday with him and the grandchildren. First we all took David to Loch Fyne restaurant in St Albans, which was superb – both food and setting. Then we were joined by the children at Winchfield and had a hectic remainder of the afternoon, with Oliver showing his skill at football, which is considerable, and Amy organising an outstanding game of hide-and-seek. It was a really nice day altogether. We left just after six and had an easy drive home.

The following day we went to London on the train and took the tube to Westminster Bridge, which we crossed, paying tribute to Wordsworth as we did so. I feel I may have underestimated Wordsworth. Then an awful hot dog in a cafe (me only; the others had something more palatable) before we proceeded to the Eye, which was brilliant. No long queue, and we were in our pod way before our due time. The weather was good (showery, but dry at this point) and clear, and it was well worth the money and effort. We then walked up to Tate Modern, taking in a gallery on the way, and popped briefly inside before crossing the Millennium Bridge to St Paul’s, where we took the underground to Oxford Circus. After a brief trot in the wrong direction, we then walked down Regent Street, taking in a few shops (Burberry’s loo is excellent, and Hamley’s toy attack too overwhelming). Found another gallery – Haunch of Venison – but weren’t impressed by what was on show, though the building itself was superb. Down Burlington Arcade and a brief foray into Fortnum and Mason’s before arriving for tea at the Ritz. Superb. Tube from Green Park back to Liverpool Street and so to bed. Well, after we got home, that is. Another great day.

The next day we went for something a little more leisurely, hiring a Broads day boat from Stalham (Moonfleet Marine) for five hours and taking in Barton Broad, How Hill and Wayford Bridge. Very pleasant weather, if not quite hot enough for Barbara. We rounded off the day with dinner at Morston Hall, which I have to say was very good indeed. On the Thursday Dot was working, so I took the Murrays to the Castle Museum (via the Cathedral). Roger did his best to knock himself out on the Castle wall, but just failed, though he was stunned for a while. We proceeded to the Caffe Italia, where we had a light lunch. Dot had been intending to join us there, but was late back, so we walked to the Art Shop in St Benedict’s, where Roger had been hoping to buy some revolutionary new acrylic paint. But no luck, and it started raining heavily, so I phoned Dot, who by this time was at home, and she came and picked us up. Barbara and Dot went shopping in the afternoon, and in the evening we all went to the Maddermarket to see Terence Rattigan’s Separate Tables, which was very well done. Met several ex-EDP folk – Frank Gordon, Trevor Burton and (after about 20 years) Jack and Sylvia Gordon. Sandra was also there, painting the scenery. Actually, I think she had finished painting it.

Next morning (Friday – try to keep up) I took Roger and Barbara on a seven-mile walk at Caistor. Dot was at a SIAS training day at Brome. Very pleasant walking weather – not too hot – and it went very well, though I was pretty desperate for the loo at the end. Having problems in that area at the moment. Restricted flow. Roger located the mystery acrylic at Jarrolds in the afternoon, and in the evening Dot took the Murrays to the Last Wine Bar while I went to the final night party for Voicing Visions. Knew almost no-one there except Ruthli and her husband, who invited me to tea on their lawn at my convenience, which was nice. Fortified by some very acceptable white wine, I talked to some very nice people, including Alison, who works at Waterstone’s, and Philippa, who is a stone carver and works for David Holgate. She introduced my to Joyce Dunbar, also a poet but primarily quite a well-known writer of children’s books. Left after an hour and a half and met the others as they were finishing their meal.

Saturday we have covered, and on Sunday the Murrays went to Suffolk for a family meal while after church I went to Paston to stand in for Lisa at the Art Alive project following her poetry walk. We returned there the following day with the Murrays to look at the book and the church. Brigitte was there again in medieval costume – never seen her in anything else. Perhaps she is medieval. Jo Berry showed me how to make paper. Called in at Knapton and Edingthorpe churches before proceeding to Elderton Lodge for another pleasant meal. Then on to Rosie’s for tea and buns and a walk round the garden.

Completed the Norfolk rose round the following day, which started out very wet but dried out, by having tea with Peter and Jean at the Beales Sweet Briar Bistro and then looking round their gardens and shop. After that went for lunch at Dunston Hall after calling at a farm shop in Mulbarton. Ended the day with fillet steak and chips at home. During their visit Roger and Barbara saw all 13 episodes of the first season of Battlestar Galactica. Apparently there are four seasons and 73 episodes altogether. Ended up feeling more sympathy for the Cylons than the humans, which can’t be right, can it? Perhaps I’m not human. I probably wouldn’t know.