This is Oliver with has radio-controlled car – a Christmas present from Auntie Ethel. Since then he has had an excellent interview with a nearby school, who as a result wanted him to transfer to them immediately. But he will probably stay where he is until September.

Weather continues windy, but it’s not too bad at the moment. We washed and vacuumed the car this morning and managed to get a lot of the winter grime off. meanwhile the MX5 has gone in to have a scratch and dent on the offside repaired – presumably caused while it was parked outside. This will cost over £400 and take three days to fix.

Yesterday I led the morning service, and we also went to our first fortnightly Ambient Wonder event in the evening. This was the “Lite” verson with a theme of beginnings, and I told the story of Brendan and Columba. There was a certain amount of coracle-making, and we hung around for a while afterwards, chatting to Ed, Anna, Bethany etc.

England did not lose at cricket yesterday – largely because they weren’t playing. So Australia crushed New Zealand instead.

Biggest hiatus yet. I blame Christmas, but who doesn’t? Anyway you have to take time out to watch your grandchildren. Grandchildren-watching is a very rewarding way of using time, and so it proved at the turn of the year. The picture is Amy in the midst of it, wondering what it all signifies.

What has happened in the last 24 days? I invented a service for St Augustine’s on Christmas Eve, wherein the sermon consisted largely of poems. About a dozen in the congregation, so well worth while. Afterwards Dot and I headed off to Toton, where we spent a delightful Christmas with the whole family. On the 27th we left, picking up my brother Andrew from Coventry on the way, and returned to Norwich. The next couple of days were quite quiet, but the weather was unpleasant. I took Andrew to Winterton, where the wind was chilling and it soon started to rain. We drove up the coast to Cromer before giving up on hope of a break in the weather and drove home. We also took him to see Happy Feet at the cinema – an animated film about penguins that had received good reviews. Sadly it failed to live up to its early promise, and the last third of it was frankly silly as far as the plot went, carrying no conviction at all. Why should humans prefer tap-dancing penguins to singing penguins? One of the great questions of our time. Andrew went to sleep towards the end of it, and I can’t blame him.

David, Vicky and the children arrived on the Friday night (29th), so Andrew had a chance to meet them the next morning before I returned him to Coventry, meeting Gareth halfway as usual. Julia and Dave arrived on the Sunday for lunch, and in the evening we were joined by Anne and Philip for a turkey meal. Sadly David was not well at all over the New Year and still is not 100 per cent.

Julia and Dave stayed on till the Tuesday, when the four of us went for a walk at Horsey, where we encountered seals on the beach and an extremely unpleasant character in the dunes (see back2sq1.co.uk). Otherwise very pleasant, and we had a good meal at the Nelson Head before rashly tackling the second part of the walk as darkness approached and the mud deepened. All ended well, however.

Since then things have sort of returned to normal. I’ve had a dental check-up and a blood test, and last Saturday Dot and I went to Alburgh Village Hall for a charity event partly organised by a couple of friends. We were on the same table as Louis de Bernieres, who had his picture taken with lady who was raising the money. The picture later appeared in the EDP. I should have inserted a toe into it, or something. LdB was one of the performers, playing a mandolyre and a clarinet (not simultaneously), accompanied by a charming German lady on the piano. She had travelled over from near Oxford. Allan H sang the Hippopotamus Song and If I were a Rich Man, which suddenly became interesting in his hands. Excellent bass voice – accompanied by the lovely Helen D on piano. Two or three other acts: an excellent violinist, a harpist and a woman who sang John Denver songs while accompanying herself on keyboard, which was a lot better than it sounds.

My marathon encounter with Steve M in The DONS chess club knockout ended on Monday, when I succumbed in the second 30-minute game after three draws. Started well, but went astray in the early middle game. Wasn’t really tuned in, possibly because I felt a bit unwell, but possibly not.

Visited Jessie this afternoon. Frank is not at all well, though you wouldn’t know it. He was able to put me right on Hog’s Loke, which is apparently Hag’s Loke. Oh dear. Norwich contrived to lose 1-3 at home to Plymough Argyle, and the England cricket team keep on failing. Now Pietersen has gone home injured. Ho, hum.

Oh, the other big thing that’s happened is that InPrint have moved into studios at Bally, on Hall Road. Much of Rupert’s and Annette’s stuff has already been installed, and we had an inaugural meeting there during the week. Things may actually be progressing: we may be a real group that does things.

None of these penguins are in my family tree, as far as I know. There were some nesting in bushes, however, which is unusual for penguins. This colony is on the shores of False Bay, South Africa.

The Christmas drama turned out well, amazingly, in view of the lack of rehearsal. It was almost as if some of the actors had read the lines earlier. The weather now is extremely wintry, with the temperature hovering around freezing. Typically, the change coincided with our central heating breaking down, leaving us huddled in front of a blazing fire on Sunday evening. The rest of the house was extremely cold.

The man from British Gas came to fix it on Monday afternoon, replacing the pump but then discovering that there was a blockage. Beyond the call of duty, he put that right too, and the house began to warm up gradually, but not before I slipped out to play chess. First against Steve Moore – the second replay of our knockout match, this time at 30 mins each. We drew again: he had an advantage out of the opening, but I got some play and managed to hold it despite dropping a knight for his outside passed pawn. We were both down to a minute when he offered a draw.

This was followed by the jolly Christmas handicap tournament, in which I scored 4.5 out of 8. Two of my wins were at 2 mins against 8, which was quite impressive. One was at 5:5 and the other at 4:6. Started with two losses and ended with two wins.

Last Saturday (yes, we’re working our way backwards) Dot and I went to north Norfolk to drop off presents at Paston and North Walsham. While Dot went to a public meeting aimed at saving North Walsham hospital (apppalling that such a meeting should be necessary), I drove to a spot just outside town on a road called Field Lane (which I was informed by Dot’s uncle later is actually Hog’s Loke, and only called Field Lane by foreigners and the local council). It was an idyllic afternoon. I parked on a hard standing at the head of a farm track at a high spot looking south-east over the valley of the North Walsham and Dilham Canal and towards the coast. The sky was blue, and the sun was sinking to my right, casting shadows on to the field in front of me. I half-wrote this poem, which I finished yesterday:

VIEW FROM FIELD LANE

And now gulls circle,
ice from the sun beneath their bodies
sheer blue overhead
swooping above brown speckled waves
where the land dips toward the canal
skeleton trees prick the sky
leaves ripped away in yesterday’s storms

pools quiet on the field’s edge
here on the ancient path
naked, shining, cold
a stranger at unexpected crossroads

like longships, shadows slide across furrows
hard by the forgotten wood:
in a viking landscape like this

you can see across the miles where you’ve walked
and something of where you’re headed
though the path dips to the south through trees
beyond the low sun’s reach

stick to the ridge
march through the mud, or fade
into the valley

there is no talk here,
everything is clear
everything still
sharp edges for the eager soul to brush against

cut by a heavenly light
the sky starts to burn
the birds return, doodling on the disappearing page
spinning out time before evening

baptised in this bright long year before night
I see the horizon creep toward me
glowing, its ragged edge
ripped from eternity

This is most of the InPrint poetry and visual arts group at the Playhouse in Norwich, where our poetry vending machine was on show in October. The four poets in the foreground – Rupert Mallin, Caroline Gilfillan, Lisa D’Onofrio and myself – had just given readings. Two of the artists – Annette Rolston and Mike Fenton – were there in support. Mike had done the artwork on the machine itself, and he is in the process of extending this.

Today we have a meeting here and are expecting most members of the group to turn up. Dot and I have just about finished writing Christmas cards and wrapping presents, though I have one or two still to buy. This is an unprecedented position to be in with 11 days still to go to Christmas.

I’ve been putting the finishing touches to the drama for Sunday, trying to make sure that everyone turns up and knows what to do. Tricky, as I’m not sure I know what to do…

My son and grandson, getting down to some serious computer work. It was my mother’s birthday a couple of days ago: she would have been 95.

Very busy the last three days, wrapping up presents and writing Christmas cards. We also ventured into the city on Saturday morning, which was surprisingly successful. We bought a large coffee table for the living room from Country and Eastern, then some other things here and there and ended up with a sandwich at a coffee bar in Mountergate at the Museum of Contemporary Art. Good sandwiches.

The Government would apparently like to close about 7000 rural post offices, though it will probably end up at 3000 so that everyone thinks it could have been worse. Of course 3000 is at least 3000 too many. I attempted to buy some stamps for cards going abroad at the post office in Castle Mall, and there were huge queues. I eventually gave up and went somewhere there were none, but not many people know about it. But if you keep shutting post offices, the queues will grow and grow. Perhaps this is what the Government wants: no travelling and no posting letters. They want us to just sit quietly at home, paying tax.

Went into the office today to internally verify some NVQ portfolios with Martin T. Good to see him again – he’s been laid low with a bad back. This morning we had some of the worst weather this winter – loads of rain, windy and pretty cold too, but it’s improved since. The heating chose that time to pack up, but I fiddled about with it before going out, and when I got back it was working.

Tonight I’m playing chess against Yarmouth. It’s about time I won a few games.

We had an event at church today to celebrate the beginning of Advent: theme was a community of hope, and everyone was supposed to bring something that symbolised hope for us. With typical lack of imagination, I took this picture. Dot took a lovely picture of our grandchildren that was much more to the point.

However, there is something about the Cape of Good Hope that I do find uplifting. It’s beautiful, combining rugged rocks with stunning coastal scenery. Even better, we were able to climb up those rocks by a steep path and perch up there on the most south-westerly point in Africa. Despite a number of other people around, the feeling of remoteness – emptiness – was tangible: and that’s something I love. And of course there was a paradox too: everyone thinks it’s the most southerly point, but it isn’t at all. Remoteness, mystery, a twist – irresistible. What more could you hope for?

It’s been very wintry here recently: high winds and quite a bit of rain. At 9 this morning it was barely light. Only three weeks and the days will be lengthening! On Friday we helped our neighbours to move up to Christchurch Road. It started easily enough, but when we got to unpacking the van it started raining persistently, and we ended up pretty wet. Worth doing, though.

The other day I found an old notebook of my mother’s in which she kept notes of holidays in Tintagel (1934), the Isle of Wight (1935) and Harlech (1936) with her fiancee, David – my father. They married in 1937. While staying in Harlech they climbed Snowdon twice, once in quite bad weather and once – five days later – in much better conditions. They also did a lot of walking to various places.

While they were staying in the Isle of Wight, she wrote this note: “Man and woman, boy and girl from Broadstairs came to stay here unexpectedly, so they have meals with us – drat them!” Clearly she liked to be alone with her boyfriend…

Incidentally, the picture of their car which appears earlier in this blog (13 January) must have been taken on the Harlech trip.

Bit of a gap there, but I’ve had a busy eleven days. One of the highlights was taking Dot for a birthday night at The Norfolk Mead, a beautiful country hotel at Coltishall. We had the whole place to ourselves apart from the stand-in manager, Linda, and a couple from Blofield Heath who came for a wedding anniversary meal. The setting of the hotel by the river could hardly be improved (give or take the odd mountain), and even in the soggy weather it was idyllic. Good food too.

After we had turned the light out to go to sleep I had this sensation that there was a woman standing in the room – but it was not in the least frightening. Quite the opposite. Probably a dream. I didn’t see anything.

David, Vicky, Oliver and Amy came up for the previous weekend, and we had a relaxing time with them. Again the weather was indifferent, so we stayed indoors mostly. David extricated a lot of stuff from the loft, with the result that Oliver suddenly found himself with a cornucopia of old cars. I now have several bagfuls of old stuff in the garage to sort out. Ho, hum.

Last week, as well as the birthday treat, I was also busy writing my column and writing a piece for the coming Sunday’s Ambient Wonder event. Oh, and and I had to write a sermon, too, and choose hymns. I also assessed one of the trainees at Yarmouth. Happily, the other one postponed again. Then there was the chess match at Wymondham on Friday night, when I manage to score my first win of the new season, though I didn’t play that well. I’m playing again tonight.

Dot is at East Rudham today, in the wilds of mid-Norfolk, shadowing the inspection of a school there. She’d left the house by 7.30am!

Oh, the picture. That’s a rather nice one of my son and his two children at Attenborough – where, coincidentally, he was married. Well, just down the road – not on that particular seat.

No-one I know, but she happened to go and sit on the rocks in Kalk Bay when I wanted to take a picture of the stormy sea; she turned out to be a peaceful counterpoint to it. Atmospheric moment.

Back here in England things have been a bit quiet. Today has been very grey and uninspiring; I ventured out briefly to take prescriptions up to the doctor’s, but it rained on me, so I retreated. I would have been woken at 8.30 by the piano tuner, had I not been awake since about 5am and up watching England drawing 1-1 with Holland without stirring themselves at all.

Later I mapped out the Christmas drama for St Augustine’s, for which I shamelessly plundered the work of previous years. Dot spent much of the day reorganising the house, but I managed to get the DVD player working again.

Incidentally, today is exactly a year since I started writing this blog. I’ve written on average more than once every four days, which I suppose isn’t bad, though it isn’t good either.