My Aunt Dorothy died three days ago. She was the twin of Ken and one of the nicest people you could meet. Aged 90, she had suffered from memory loss for a long time and eventually refused food, dying peacefully.

In the photograph she is in the middle, between her mother and my mother. Her full name was Dorothea Rosa Lenton. She never married, spending much of her life looking after her mother at their home in Hall Road, Norwich, following the death of her father in the mid-50s. Outside her home, she made the biggest impact at Norwich School – then a boarding school –  where she was a dearly-loved matron for many years.  I was very fond of her. I don’t think she had an unkind bone in her body.

Her death leaves only two of her seven siblings left alive – Kathleen and Paul, both in their 80s and both living in Norwich.

PS  Since writing this I’ve discovered that the picture was taken at the wedding of Jonathan and Dorothy (Jonathan is my cousin) in 1960.

Dorothy was the inspiration for this poem, which I wrote a few years ago after visiting her at Coltishall Hall Residential Home. She later moved to Cringleford.

COLTISHALL HALL

Your angel
has a fine time of it
standing at your corner room
mixing his holiness
with yours

while the winter sun
blazes low beyond the gate
lighting garden
and tree

I feel him there
filling your room and beyond
changing
the nature of things
through his presence

My angel
greets him wryly
like one who draws
the short straw

remembers the hills I fall off
the desires
the boat
the dark water

sighs, then smiles
when he sees me slip
my fingers through
your angel

Another hiatus there, but I’ve been ill. The day before I was ill I led this yomp around Ketteringham, just outside Norwich. The picture is of me a week before, scouting it out. On the actual day (Jan 16) the weather had retreated into normal English winter again: it drizzled for much of the time and was exceedingly grey and bleak, as well as cold.

Still, we enjoyed it – especially the drink at the Red Lion in Eaton afterwards. Dot turned up for that, having given the walk a miss. But we were six: myself, globetrotter Brian Caldecott, professional rambler Liz Parker, author Bruce Robinson, sub-editor Mark Leslie, and diarist Robin “H” Limmer. We started at Ketteringham village hall car park by kind permission of Mrs Saul, took the road east to the monument at the Fiveways and continued in the same direction down a bridleway that was part of the Upper Tas Valley Walk, then south across fields to Lower East Carleton. From there we turned right on to the road west, and at the T-junction crossed on to the field, following paths, mainly across open fields, to East Carleton proper. Here we took the B road west to Lone Cottage, where we struck out slightly west of north across the fields. At the road we turned right and walked to Ketteringham Church, where we had lunch. From there it was a short walk north through woods and across a couple of fields back to the centre of Ketteringham and the cars.

Felt quite invigorated, in a wet sort of way, and prepared for my prostate biopsy the following day. This was relatively painless, and I felt quite well enough to visit my aunt Josephone (90) afterwards, as well as going out for the usual Tuesday evening meal afterwards (Helen’s on this occasion). It was only when I got home from that that I began to feel bad, and had an uncomfortable night. Wednesday was not quite so severe, and I took some paracetamol and went out with Dot for a scheduled meal with Heather and Sam Savigny. But after that I just got worse – very fluey and aching, head and stomach feeling extremely odd. Struggled through a meeting of InPrint the following morning but then went to bed. Assumed it was biopsy-related and went to the doctor the next day for more antibiotics. He didn’t seem to think it was related, but didn’t really know. He gave me the antibiotics anyway (double strength).

Gradually improved later Saturday and made it to church on Sunday. Meanwhile, as I was feeling at my worst, I received the news that I did NOT have prostate cancer. Very odd receiving good news when you feel awful. Your heart wants to leap, but your body won’t let it.

This is an up-to-the-minute, exclusive picture of me in a field, researching a yomp which I’m leading next Monday in the Ketteringham area. The path I’m on goes across the middle of a field and is barely marked. Round here they don’t seem keen to encourage you to walk across country. The picture was taken by Dot, my wife, with her new digital camera.  It was taken on Monday, when it was sunny and quite benign: it’s turned colder and soggier since. Not bad this afternoon, though.

Family history has receded slightly into the background over Christmas and New Year, but I’ll get back to it. Instead I bought a car today. Mazda 3 Sport. We take delivery on March 1.

Bit of a mystery, this one. Seems to be the same group, but in much more formal clothes, with the addition of (presumably) my grandfather, Charles Frederick Lenton. Maybe just after the first world war.

Today may mark the end of the cold spell, but it’s still pretty nippy, with a lot of snow still on the ground despite a promised thaw and rain. Less pleasant than of late, if you can call extremely cold and snowy “pleasant”. Tomorrow we shall be heading for Nottingham and milder weather, to spend the new year with Vicky’s parents.

Back home after a great Christmas with David, Vicky and the grandchildren at Caddington. Had intended to bring back my brother Andrew, but wintry weather – or more precisely, the threat of very wintry weather – made us postpone his visit. Instead we set off for home early and arrived at 1pm after a pretty uneventful trip. But as we got to Norwich it started to snow heavily, and it kept going for quite a while.

The picture is of my grandmother (father’s mother) – Rosa Dorothy Lenton (nee Booth) – and the first of her children. I think I’m right in saying that the three standing in dark clothes are (l to r) Reg, Leonard and Frank. Also standing is my father, David William (Bill to my mother), looking like the little angel everyone says he was. Seated are the twins, Ken and Dorothea. As yet unborn are Kathleen and Paul. The last three mentioned are the only ones still living – and they are all living in Norwich, though Kathleen spent most of her life in Africa.

The picture was taken in Norwich, probably at their house and probably during or just after the first world war.

Exhausting day – very mild for the time of year. Quite a bit of Christmas shopping, plus a last visit to the university before Christmas: finally I have everybody’s work – and I’ve marked all but the four pieces on which I have to consult with the photography man.

Back on the ancestor trail, the picture is of my father’s father, Charles Frederick Lenton, born in Norman’s Cross, Northamptonshire, 1879. I have very few memories of him, but I remember a family gathering at Poringland where he gave me a hard-backed exercise book to write in. I remember distinctly being thrilled at this. He was once a railway lampman, but he had various other jobs, including working in the shoe-trade and – so I am told – helping to build the road over Mousehold Heath, Norwich, in the early 20th century.

Sorry about the gap. Christmas looming, university essays to mark, wife retiring… Speaking of which, here she is (right) at her “surprise” retirement do on December 16, being presented with a bottle of champagne by Sue Eagle, head of Tuckswood School in Norwich, where she had been deputy head for four years and taught for many years more. Sue called her an unusually gifted teacher, which shows how astute she is. Also speaking were Fred Corbett, Norfolk’s education number two (assistant director of children’s services), and Bill Russell, senior primary adviser, who had interviewed her – extremely rigorously – for the post of head at Alburgh with Denton School six years ago.

The party had been organised by Kim and Karen, reception teacher and secretary respectively. Cake by Marion, the magic cake-maker and classroom assistant. Wonderful evening, excellent buffet, great atmosphere. Dot was given a stunning gold bracelet studded with garnets.

Busy time at the moment. Son and grandson came up at the weekend to fix up my wife’s new Apple computer. Well, grandson was not too involved in that side of it, but he was pretty busy what with one thing and another. Took him over to the station to watch some trains, but it was bitterly cold.

This is an old picture of two families – my father’s and my uncle’s. My father David is at the back on the right, and next to him is his older brother Reg. In front of them are me and my cousin Jonathan (right). My mother is in the middle, and to her right at the back are Ruth and Brenda (left), Reg’s two daughters – both older than Jonathan. On Brenda’s lap is my younger brother, Andrew.

I guess this picture was probably taken at Kettering (maybe Wickstead Park) probably in about 1951. If so, my mother may be pregnant. The picture was probably taken by Reg’s wife, Dorothy.

When my father died suddenly in March 1955, Reg drove over in the fog from Kettering to be with us.

My mother, born Phyllis Maud Brown in 1911 at Eaton on the outskirts of Norwich, is seen here with fellow-teachers at Rackheath School. She is on the left. She used to cycle there from Eaton every day.  I guess the picture would have been taken in about 1933 or 1934.

My father used to drive to meet her on Thursdays, so I am told by Philip Basey, a former pupil who used to admire his car, an MG.

She died in 1994, having been a widow for nearly 40 years.

Today I have been teaching at university. A rather mixed autumn day with elements of sogginess and sun.