Colin still hasn’t returned with our new handle for the garage door, but Dot has devised a cunning method of opening and closing it. Pretty exciting – but even more excitingly, we have a blue recycling bin. It only took one e-mail to Norwich City Council and it suddenly appeared today, at roughly the same time as the window cleaner, who is recovering from quite a serious operation.
On Wednesday I went to see Sharon, and we agreed that my shoulder was all right now, so “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”. She tested my reach and made some suggestions but didn’t charge me anything, which is more than reasonable.
The second half of the week (up to a very wet today) was warm and sunny. On Thursday we took the MX5 in for a service and MOT, then in the afternoon took the radical step of taking in a pitch-and-putt game on Mousehold. Bit worried when we turned up to find ourselves behind five teenagers, but they very kindly asked us to go first, which made the tee-off a bit tense but worked out very well afterwards, as we completed a round without any problems. We both played reasonably well and ended up minus one ball, which is pretty good considering that we lost three. I was a bit worried about my shoulder, but there have been no drastic repercussions.
Yesterday was even warmer, and I felt a bit silly carrying a jacket to the cinema to see Far From the Madding Crowd. As anticipated, however, the cinema was considerably cooler than outside, despite the warmth generated by us and the two other people watching the film 🙂 Good film, though I felt the wrong man was playing Sgt Troy – he was on the brink of being a Monty Python parody.
This morning we are preparing to go to a birthday meal for Mary Thrower – wife of one of my classmates at the CNS and a colleague of Dot’s in the Sillars Orchestra. Can’t imagine we shall know anyone apart from those two.
My shoulders are much better, despite (or possibly because of) strenuous exercise in Scarborough. Still, I think I will go to see Sharon on Wednesday and see what she says.
Pre-Scarborough, we enjoyed a compline and cake evening at Howard and Anna’s with Vicky, Judy and the Archers, which was as convivial as regular readers (Dot and I ) would expect. This was followed by something almost as exciting – the Archant pensioners’ coffee morning, though the only editorial presence apart from myself were Robin and Shelagh. We had quite a long chat with Hazel, Alan’s widow.
Dot and I took the train to Scarborough, and the journey up there was very pleasant, with plenty of room in the trains and everything on time. The Evetts met us at the station at about 2.15pm, and after refreshments we walked into town from their flat by the high-level route, which we hadn’t done before, and after a snack in M&S (and purchase of wine and biscuits) got the No.7 bus back– our only casualty being a seagull bomb attack on Julia’s jacket.
The next day was pleasantly warm, and we walked in to town by way of the beach, stopping en route for tea/coffee at the Palm Court cafe and buying hats to protect us from the sun. After lunch at the Cafe Columbus it was suggested (I cannot say by whom) that we talk a ride on the speedboat advertised opposite. Julia demurred, but the rest of us went for it and found ourselves on the faster of the two vessels – the Rocket. It was an exciting ride round into North Bay and back: only ten minutes but pretty exhilarating, with plenty of up and down as well as side to side. Happily, we did not get wet.
Afterwards, we walked round the harbour and had an ice cream before walking back up into the town (quite a climb) to catch the bus home. Quite along wait for the bus on this occasion.
Friday dawned much duller and with a spot of rain to start with. However, that was not repeated and by the time we had driven to Cedar Barn, near Thornton le Dale, the sun was shining so much that our outdoor snack with Janet and John (not the famous literary drop, but friends of Julia and Dave) was eaten under considerable heat. Dot and I had a Sally Lunn (an agreeable kind of Yorkshire teacake).
After leaving J & J we travelled to Sutton Bank (just under 1000ft), where we took in the “finest view in England” (James Herriott) before undertaking quite a strenuous walk to the Kilburn White Horse. This landed us too close to said horse to see it clearly; so after returning to the visitors’ centre for refreshment we drove to Kilburn itself for a fine view of it, thence returning to Scarborough past Byland Abbey and through Ampleforth.
We returned to Norwich on Saturday, a windy but quite pleasant day. This journey was more trying as the trains were pretty full. On the first stretch to York we sat next to two young couples who disposed of two bottles of wine in 45 minutes; on the next stretch (after our own modest refreshment at Costa) our neighbours were sharing what appeared to be champagne and looking extremely guilty. On the final stretch we were adjacent to a woman who had left her “vital” valuables in a hotel safe and was making arrangements over the phone to retrieve them.
In the evening we had arranged to go to a performance by Adrian and Bridget Plass at the Central Baptist Church. We went with Judy and met the Archers there. The new vicar-elect was also present, with some St Luke’s members, and we were introduced to him. Janet and Graham of Montauroux fame were also there. Had the opportunity to chat with Adrian and Bridget and bought the new book. It was an excellent evening, extremely funny at times but also moving.
It was a rare Sunday, as I was neither leading nor preaching, and I managed to avoid falling asleep (we were still both very tired after the journey and Dot had proclaimed a “2” day – we are on a 5-2 diet. In the evening however we were invited in impromptu manner to the Hendersons’ for a drink and both had a glass of wine there. But I had only one crisp.
Today is very pleasant. We discovered an attempted break-in yesterday that had damaged the garage door at the back; so it was fortunate indeed that builder Colin was due to come today to look at a few jobs that needed doing. He arrived while I was in the bath; so I had to get out to speak to him. I then got back into the bath while Dot went to a meeting at Thorpe High School, and Colin came back again to remove the door handle for comparison purposes. So I had to get out of the bath again. What fun.
The best news of the week happened before we went to Scarborough. Dot visited the doctor to get the results of a blood test and was told she did not have diabetes, and the relevant readings were all down. A weight off our minds.
Dot settles down to a bit of navigation in Frejus.
Here we are in a new month, and my shoulders are feeling a bit sensitive. I don’t know why, but no doubt a forthcoming visit to Scarborough will put them right. Or not.
Not quite such a busy weekend, though we spent the afternoon on Saturday at the Suffolk Poetry Festival in Stowmarket. We decided to take the train, which proved a sound idea. The weather was quite reasonable, and dry.
We were part of a group representing the Seagull and organised by Kaaren Whitney, wearing a Massachusetts T-shirt. Dot and I did some tanka and I read a couple of other poems. Other readers were Sue and Elizabeth, and I think we held our own quite well. James Knox Whittet was also there, as president of the society, but he was not reading. As always the quality varied enormously, but overall it was enjoyable until a trio from Woodbridge went way over their allotted time. We had intended to stay a little longer, but we were so irritated that we left early and so were able to catch the Cup Final on TV. Arsenal beat Aston Villa impressively, 4-0. Dot left her jacket behind, but Sue rushed out with it as I was returning for it.
On the Sunday I was preaching again (shortage of alternatives), and after lunch Dot and I went to see Jessie, dodging the showers. She seemed quite well, and the cake was ginger. Before that, of course, we visited the cemetery, where again we managed to avoid getting wet, except underfoot.
Earlier in the week we had our hair cut (Wednesday), and on Thursday Dot helped to interview Paul Henderson for the role of DSSO. She also gave him a lift to Diocesan House and I went to pick him up, because she had to stay on and do more interviewing. I had tea with him, and when Maryta returned from a bout of horse-riding, I was shown the garden and its vegetables. I got home just before Dot.
On Friday the Eagles came for supper and stayed till about 1am, by which time I had been asleep for a short while. I’m finding it hard to stay awake if it’s late, because the conversation was certainly not boring, and we are much on the same wavelength. We played them some music and showed them some pictures, and Sue and Dot completed the minutes of a meeting earlier in the week which – sadly – wound up the Norfolk Association for Primary Headteachers (NAFPHT). All good things…
Apparently we are involved in a 5-2 diet, which involves not eating much on two days out of seven. I have lost a bit of weight, as well as impetus.
Yes, it was worth it. But it did require a lot of effort, and it was unexpectedly draining in terms of energy – and that was just us, not the players. Anyway Norwich City won the play-off final 2-0; so everything is fine. The EDP is making lots of money with its souvenir issues and add-ons, and that’s fine too.
We left Norwich around 9am, after picking up Naomi from a house in Alan Road (she had stayed the night there after the Radio 1 Big Weekend at Earlham Park) and a friend of Patrick’s case from a hotel on Newmarket Road. This is just one example of the number of things that had to be brought together for our mission to succeed.
There was lots of traffic on the road, of course, but no real problems until we stopped at South Mimms services on the A1 and Jonathan and Naomi decided to have a coffee. Since the services were crowded with supporters of one kind or another, this took a lot of time, and by the time we reached Stanmore station the car park was full. Not only that, but there were so many cars trying to find non-existent spaces that we took about 20 minutes to get out again.
We continued towards Wembley and a parking space that Jonathan had booked in someone’s drive through JustPark.com. We had no problem finding it, but the drive had two cars already parked in such a way that you couldn’t get a third in. Fortunately the owner was in and expressed astonishment that we had booked, since he had heard nothing from JustPark for two years. However, he was quite amenable to moving one of the other vehicles to give us space.
From there it was a longish walk to the stadium, and I was already feeling tired. We had to ask the way once, but then met Patrick’s brother William at Wembley Park Tube. He had booked us into a Nepali restaurant the other side of the stadium; we were already half an hour late, and it took about half an hour to walk there, by which time I was shattered. On the way we saw the Norwich City coach being barracked by Middlesbrough supporters, and Dot seized Patrick’s City shirt (he wasn’t wearing it) and waved it, receiving a thumbs-up from City skipper Russell Martin. We feel this was a key factor in their victory.
The restaurant was unexpectedly empty and the meal (very similar to Indian) very good, though I’m not sure curry and beer is the ideal meal to have in this situation. After it we walked back to the stadium, found the entrance and ascended into the sky, eventually reaching our seats three rows from the back. The view was unexpectedly good and clear, the only problem being that the people in front of us chose to stand all the way through the first half and most of the second. Very irritating.
Of course the match was pretty exciting, though not a classic, because Norwich were so much on top. The Middlesbrough supporters had mostly melted away by the time we joined the throng emerging for another long walk back to the car. I’m sure we didn’t go the quickest way, but I didn’t like to argue with William, who seemed to know the area. On the way we saw a genuine fight, with blood, between a small group of Middlesbrough supporters (no Norwich fans involved), followed by a number of police restraining another man near the Tube station.
Dot quite pleased at the result
We reached the car successfully (it seemed much further away than before) and after saying farewell to Patrick and William, took Naomi to Stanmore tube, where she was getting a train to stay with relatives in London. This was a slow journey, and at one point Naomi became desperate for the loo and had to rush into a Prezzo’s. Still, we made it and dropped her off.
The journey back to Norwich was incident-free, though I got us onto the M1 by mistake and we had to divert across by the St Albans route on tho the A1. But I don’t think it added much in the way of time. Jonathan dropped us off at about 9.20pm; we watched the cricket (England had beaten New Zealand in the first test, which David and Kevin had attended at Lord’s on the Saturday) and then fell into bed.
We spent all yesterday recovering, both of us being tired out. Dot chose this day to start us on a 5-2 diet (this was a 2), and I was too weak to argue.
The weekend, even without Wembley, was a full one. On Saturday we were invited to Adrian O’dell’s 70th birthday party, held at the CNS in their new Arc facility. I was surprised to see how much of the school was still recognisable. We sat at a table with a couple of blokes I don’t think I knew when I was at school (Harvey and Huggins) and their wives, and the evening was very enjoyable.
Since it was Adrian’s party, it was also highly organised and included a slide show of his life (exhausting even to watch, let alone live), plus a singing of the school song, a hog roast buffet, a quiz and various music, including a ukulele band, a very long eightsome reel, a choral group and a band called the Hobblers, who were actually quite good. Our table came equal first in the quiz but lost the actual prize on an extremely dubious tie-split. We were obviously gutted (not).
On Sunday, another party – this time Rodney’s 75th, at their Dereham home. It followed closely on a service which I not only preached at but led when the actual leader was double-booked. So we were half an hour late at Dereham, but this didn’t seem to matter. It was an excellent party, with fantastic buffet food, good company and even some games (crazy golf, boules) when it stopped raining.
Richard had his two daughters with him, and I spent some time talking to Charlotte’s newish husband, James, who turned out to be an estate agent. (Charlotte is Vicki’s tiny half-sister.) Vicki had recently broken up with her long-term partner Graham, so was not feeling on top of the world; she brought a female friend – Jane, I think – instead, and she was very nice. So all went well. They have giant fish in their pond. Very frightening. They are big fish in a small pond.
Hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil: Janet, Dot and Sue at Mons
Pleasant weather has arrived, but with it my shoulder has become extremely painful for no apparent reason. This followed an x-ray by my dentist, but I can’t see how there can be a connection. More likely it’s a delayed effect of levering myself out of the swimming pool and twisting because my right arm was painful from a previous fall, but that was over a week ago.
Yesterday morning it got so bad that I went to A & E. This proved to be a mistake: I should have gone to my GP. Ah, well, lots of wasted time, but I got an x-ray. Needless to say, it was clear. Dot came up to fetch me because she didn’t know why I was there (my texts were getting blocked). Result: it continues to hurt a lot, and I still don’t know what’s wrong. I went to see James at Heydon this morning to discuss with him and Rob what our plans were for the next Chronicle project: I managed to drive all right, but I would be lying if I said it was pain-free.
The second most painful thing this week was getting tickets to the Wembley play-off final. After much discussion Dot decided she did want to go, so she ended up queuing with Naomi on Wednesday evening while I went to a very good Science and Faith lecture by Prof David Wilkinson at the Cathedral, encountering Margaret Comerford, who may be moving south (she has a partner in London).
The queuing was successful; so now we are in possession of five tickets, and Jonathan is driving us – not sure exactly where. I believe someone has booked a Nepali meal beforehand. Goodness knows why. Organisation has never been so chaotic.
David’s 43rd birthday on Monday; so we spoke to him on FaceTime after returning home from a DCC meeting which was very enjoyable (a) because it was at Howard’s, with wine and nibbles (b) new members Eleanor and Judy were present and (c) well, it just was. As much a social encounter as a meeting, which has to be good. Howard has a gift for that.
Earlier in the day I had met Mary (from our congregation) in a cafe on Surrey Street. She is trying to engage people she meets in conversation about Christianity and wanted me to help; but the guy in question didn’t turn up, and so I had a pleasant conversation with Mary instead, giving her advice on her to write a letter to the Editor of the EDP. She came round later in the week, and I edited her letter on the spot.
Tuesday saw a meeting of the PHS Trustees at Mundesley. The drive out was very slow, as was the meeting. In the evening Dot and I went to the Hendersons for a light meal and some conversation or, in Maryta’s case, a debate. No change there. Paul is becoming DSSO in the style of Dot, which is nice.
On Wednesday Martin Smith came round with a load of cheques, cash and invoices relating to the Speaker Programme and the Enneagram. Today I have successfully dealt with them, paying in the cheques at the bank and buying a loaf and some broccoli on the way back. Dot has been out all day but should be home soon, just in time to queue up again to collect the actual tickets, and not the ticket that entitles you to collect the actual tickets, which she queued up for before. Jonathan has been on the phone, asking me about tube stations. Is it worth it?
The village of Callian as seen from our villa just outside Montauroux.
Our holiday in Montauroux went unexpectedly well, considering the almost random nature of the participants. Of the four couples, we knew Fred and Sue very well, of course, but the other two were almost strangers, thought we had recently become acquainted with Graham and Janet, who is in Dot’s orchestra. The other couple, Anne and Patrick, from Banbury, we had never met, but as it turned out we shared their car and got on really well with them.
The weather in the South of France could hardly be faulted: when we arrived at Nice it was very warm, and it remained that way throughout, though there was some cloud and wind on the Thursday and Friday. The wind, though quite strong, was not cold enough to worry us in view of recent English icy blasts.
We got a taxi to the airport on the Saturday morning, and this cost £20 (with tip); so we were doubly grateful when David and Oliver met us in the mid-term parking area on our return. The EasyJet flight was not too arduous (just under two hours), though security was a pain, and Dot had to purchase a correctly sized transparent bag to contain her liquids.
Obtaining the car at Nice airport was time-consuming, but we eventually got to the Villa Santilena at 5pm, just two hours after we’d landed – or to put it another way, it took slightly longer to get from Nice airport Arrivals to Montauroux – just over 35 miles – than it took to fly from Luton to Nice (660).
The setting of the villa, less than a mile outside Montauroux, could not be faulted, with a swimming pool perched on a scintillating view. Nice rooms, too, though an extra toilet would not have gone amiss. The living area was spacious and very comfortable inside and out, and the eight of us got on very well (Graham and Janet had a self-contained apartment downstairs, but ate and “lived” with us). There was a boules court (we were runners up in the grand tournament) and an outdoors table tennis table. The walk into town was just a nice distance.
After we arrived, five of our party (including Dot) disappeared down to the valley supermarket to stock up on food. Good plan.
On the Sunday six of us walked to the village and back, mislaying Dot en route when she missed the fact that the rest of us had gone up some steps to an old chapel viewpoint. I eventually rang her and found she was in the town square. We followed the others back after I showed Dot the old chapel that she’d missed. meanwhile Graham and Fred had gone on an expedition by steam train into the interior, and managed to miss a connection back after misunderstanding the time. They eventually arrived about 9.45pm. We generously saved them some food. This gave both Dot and I time to get in the pool, though it was so difficult getting out that I strained my shoulder a bit and didn’t get in again.
On the Monday we drove a hair-raising road to the tiny mountain village of Mons, which was enchanting and mostly shut, since it was a Monday (their closing day). However, we did find a good bar and then an excellent restaurant, where I had an omelette and everyone else had the “formule”, which was apparently very good. Later we drove to Feyance, a slightly larger town with a good view but less charm. At the restaurant I thought I had lost my wallet, but happily I had simply left it at home.
On Tuesday we drove to Grasse (Patrick was our designated driver throughout; I was in reserve but happily not needed). He was an excellent driver, but the drive was somewhat tedious. However, we spent a couple of hours in the old town and bought a few small presents before stumbling on the splendid Cathedral and another excellent viewpoint. Grasse is famous for its perfumes, and we visited the House of Fragonard’s outlet. On the way home we stopped at a supermarket to buy food and got into the wrongest possible checkout queue, behind two women who bought up major quantities of hair products and then proceeded to pay for it in the most complicated way imaginable, involving much documentation and phone calls to the manager. To avoid hitting one of them, I returned to the car, where Dot and Anne were wondering where we’d got to.
The magnificent seven by the lake on our return journey: from left, Graham, Anne, Patrick, Janet, Sue, Dot and Fred. Number Eight, of course, was behind the camera.
Wednesday’s major feature was the lake walk, which was not too long for us, but too early; so the other six left us to our own devices. We took things very easy, then walked into town and had a drink at the bar in the square. A relaxing day. I’m not sure if this was the day that ended up with a murder mystery. I was a bodyguard, but I didn’t do it. Patrick was a pilot and he did, but it seemed so obvious that I chose instead Delia Dictaphone (Anne), as did Dot, since she had some lines that were psychologically impossible if she was innocent. However, she was. The lines were guilty. Actually, I think it was Tuesday.
On Thursday we drove rather reluctantly to Frejus and then St Raphael, on the coast. Graham and Janet had stayed there, and were keen to show off their local knowledge. Frejus is an ancient Roman town with some mildly intriguing ruins; we stayed for an hour or so. St Raphael is nice enough in a very Blue Coast way – i.e. very crowded but sort of interesting and with a congenial atmosphere. We all had a lunch in a cafe (very good steak and impressive profiterole) and then split up. Dot had cunningly got something on her trousers; so we bought her some rather nice new blue ones, for which I had to pay 39€ cash. So I got 100€ from a cash point to replenish my wallet. We then ambled along the front, pausing frequently, until rendezvousing with our driver and managing to find our way out of town and on the road home. We arrived just before the other car, which contained local experts.
Friday featured the long-awaited walk to our neighbouring village of Callian, which had been tempting us from across the valley all week. This was very up and down (or rather down and up) but highly enjoyable despite or possibly because of the brisk wind that had blown up. In the town we had a drink together then split up, looking round independently before making our own way home. In the evening we walked into town for a meal that I had booked the previous night, using my extensive knowledge of French (secretly I was pleased with how much I could remember and even use). This was another first-class meal.
On Saturday we had to leave by 10 and just about managed it after I accompanied Fred into town to dispose of the rubbish. Our car (Patrick, Anne, Dot and I) was slightly behind as we left and we were caught by the cleaning manager who couldn’t find the apartment key. I rang Fred and then explained to her where the key was. You might think this was more brilliant use of my French, but in fact she was Dutch, and therefore spoke English. We headed for the airport, but stopped first by the lake (a rather risky move in view of the dodgy track we used to reach it) and then at an aire which, although it had fuel, had no coffee and its loos were closed in a very French sort of way. So we proceeded apace to the airport, which had all that stuff sorted.
Hire car offload proved much easier than expected, and we took it easy with some refreshment (including sandwiches from the villa) before proceeding through security, which proved less arduous that at Luton. And so, by way of great views of the Alps and London – not simultaneously – to Luton Airport, where we said our goodbyes and then found ourselves on the same bus as Fred, Sue, Anne and Patrick before being picked up by David and Oliver.
We had planned to take David out for a birthday meal, but he had correctly anticipated that we would be very tired, and had kindly cooked us an excellent meal himself, with help from Oliver and Amy. Pork and rice, then chocolate pudding and flapjacks à là Oliver. Present and cards were also opened.
We stayed the night, then left for Norwich while David was taking the children to Aylesbury. It was a pleasant journey: we got petrol and food from Morrisons and proceeded to disembark in every possible way.
Heading off for Caddington later today, before staying the night there and then catching a flight to Nice for our holiday in Montauroux. Before that the piano tuner will arrive and do his stuff, no doubt reflecting simultaneously on the forthcoming Norwich v Ipswich playoffs and the SNP clean sweep of Scotland in the General Election. With a few votes still to be counted, the Conservatives have managed to get an overall majority – to everyone’s surprise. Resignations of Miliband, Clegg and Farage imminent. Resignations of a few pollsters would also be appropriate.
Our constituency, Norwich South, ousted Lib Dem Simon Wright and gave a huge majority to Labour. When we voted there was, for the first time in recorded memory, a queue at the polling station.
There were other big events this week. On Monday evening our band, Far Cry, performed at the Bicycle Shop cafe as part of Julian Week, and it all went pretty well, with some people from church (Carrie, Judy, Mary…) giving us moral support. Quite a nice number listening. Great to be able to sing my own songs to an actual audience who didn’t have to be there and weren’t performing themselves.
Emily and Lawrence helped us a lot, not least with street cred and the electrical stuff. Lawrence also recorded it, but was dubious about the sound quality. Between rehearsals and the actual event we had a light tapas meal upstairs, which was very good.
Next day we both went to the Archant coffee morning – together with Brian and Tricia and Maryta and Paul. Something of an EDP subs and spouses takeover. Robin had an eye appointment, so couldn’t make it.
The same day Naomi came to stay the night. Always nice to have her around: she had to see someone at UEA the next day; so she left around 12 and so did we, to hear a Julian talk at the library. Had some trouble finding where it was because they had switched it, which meant we were slightly late (and annoyed), but it was a good talk by Sheila Upjohn about how the Julian manuscript had survived in view of its “heretical” insistence that God loves us anyway. It involved some nuns in Cambrai and a few well-placed supporters.
Eleanor was in the audience; we had a chat afterwards.
Yesterday I went to see Paul, who thought I was someone named Kim (clearly my phone voice is not what it might be). I went mainly to ask him about a woman called Irene, but he couldn’t remember anything. However, while talking to Phil on the phone afterwards, it turned out that he did know an Irene, and it may turn out to be the woman Joy’s uncle was asking about (connected to Surrey Chapel way, way back). We shall see.
I was ringing Phil because he’s introduced me to a singer called Malcolm Guite, and I was giving him my reaction. He’s pretty good, actually.
Changing landscape in Norwich. The old brewery building land on KIng Street has been cleared, and temporarily you can see St Peter Parmentergate Church juxtaposed with the Castle in the background.
Yesterday we arrived at church just after 10am below grey skies, light rain and the familiar chilly wind. When we emerged at 3pm, after a rehearsal with Phil, Emily and her boyfriend Lawrence, the sun had come out and it was perceptibly warm. Spring had crept in. Later in the day Dot and I went for a walk beside the River toward Carrow Road and got quite hot (and very tired).
The rehearsing is taking its toll: my right arm is still sore from the fall and was aching a lot last night. But I have taken advice from the chemist, who says nothing is broken. I do find that I can do a bit more with it every day. This morning it’s not so bad, but Dot wants to rehearse again. Then Far Cry (all five of us) will rehearse at the venue at 6pm, and then – at last – play for real. It will be something of a relief.
Dot’s seminar at the UEA went very well (no surprise there), but the parish annual meeting was not so thrilling, although the food by Karen Wimhurst and friends was excellent. Several no-shows from both sides, but Adrian turned up and mopped up quite a lot of the spare food. St Augustine’s were hardly mentioned, but that was partly my fault. I had kind of expected Howard to be there, and so had not prepared a talk, though I would have said something if asked.
Howard did eventually put in an appearance – on Saturday night at St Peter Hungate, where Louise Øhrstrøm was speaking on Julian, as part of the Julian Week events. Very good talk, though you had to listen carefully, and it got very cold towards the end. Had a quick chat with her – she came to St Augustine’s when she was at UEA, but is now back in Denmark. Howard seems on top form after Sri Lanka – perhaps too enthusiastic, as his sermon on Sunday lasted about 45 minutes!
On Thursday a bit of cunning forward planning – I postponed my bath and was rewarded when (a) a parcel I was expecting arrived about 10am and (b) shortly after it, the Sonata alarm man arrived two or three hours earlier than scheduled. Dot was out; so I was able to answer the door and then have a late bath. Sometimes these things work out…
On Friday evening we were invited to No 11 by Des and Chris, the new owners. Sam, Chris and Ellie also showed up, which meant we found out less than we might have done about our hosts, since Sam is not slow in coming forward. Still, we enjoyed the evening. The white wine was nice.
Winter is reluctant to let us go; still a chilly wind today, though it was very pleasant (as it often is) at the top of the Rosary when I called in on the way back from fetching my pills from the chemist.
This was my second visit to the Rosary in less than a week: on Thursday I walked up there and fell over while greeting a woman who was looking for her aunt’s grave. Did some damage to my hand and wrist, as well as spraining my ankle. Bruising has spread in strange ways: bits that were bruised to start with now aren’t, while bits that weren’t (inner wrist and outside of thumb) are now badly discoloured. Still quite painful if I get it in the wrong position, but on the plus side (for me) I can still play the guitar and (for the woman I was greeting) I found the grave she was looking for. She was very concerned about me and gave me her bottle of water.
Dot is up at the UEA today giving her presentation as party of a UEA/Schools philosophy conference. She has been very nervous about it. Later I shall be going to St Luke’s for the parish agm and dinner.
After falling over last Thursday I went with Dot to the Paston annual meeting, at which the sandwiches were very good; so as there were only 13 of us, we took some home. All the usual suspects except Lucy, who has shingles. Fred has shingles too, and we’re going on holiday with him in about ten days. Lots of it about. Well, two lots so far. The annual meeting was fine, though the room got rather cold later on. Nice view of the sea.
Big surprise on Friday, when Linda didn’t change the time of our hair appointment. In the evening we went with the Robinsons to the Red Lion at Eaton to celebrate Philip’s birthday. He thinks it’s the best food in Norwich, but it’s not really in Norwich, and I’m not sure about the quality either. Nevertheless it was very good. I confined myself to fish on the assumption (probably correct) that I wouldn’t be able to cut much with my injured hand. Spreading butter was not easy either. Afterwards they came back here for coffee, and I think I went to sleep. Must have been the stress. No-one seemed to mind.
On Saturday, as Norwich City FC threw away their chance of automatic promotion by getting a man sent off and drawing 1-1 with Rotherham, Dot spent most of the day at Acle – rehearsing in the afternoon and performing in the church in the evening with Sillars Orchestra. Obviously I attended the latter, which was very good indeed, especially the second half. I sat with Graham, who we’re going on holiday with, and Neville, who thought the second half should have been first. I definitely didn’t. Refreshments at half time too!
Another busy day on Sunday when, after I preached in the morning and notching up a hat-trick of Sunday sermons, Phil came round in the afternoon to rehearse and eat, before all three of us went the Seagull Theatre and performed three songs. I think Dot was flaked out, but she performed heroically, and it was well received. I also read a poem, and Kaaren filled me in on what was required for the Suffolk Poetry Festival (five minutes).
Yesterday, despite the chilly wind, Dot and I went for a 35-minute walk round the riverside path and, after lunch and a rest, called in at Morrisons for £100 worth of food, plus a new kettle. Then we watched quite a lot of TV.
Maddison and Darcy Beales on a visit to Aspland Road last week.
After a warm day yesterday (albeit with a slightly chilly breeze), today turned cooler again under a grey sky. Certain people say this is the hottest April on record, but I don’t know where they’re standing.
On Sunday I was preaching again, standing in for the rota person, who was hard-pressed. I was also leading the service (as per rota), and before that chairing the DCC agm in the absence of a vicar and the churchwarden, who is in Sri Lanka. The vicar-elect is in Marrakesh, but that’s another story. The DCC was pretty straightforward and no-one queried why Ian was standing down. No election was necessary, because all the gaps were filled, with Judy and Eleanor being new DCC members.
Afterwards we had a Far Cry rehearsal, which went fairly well.
On Monday I was up at the Forum by just after 10am for a PHS trustees’ meeting with Karen about the new bid (Discovering Paston Footprints). Went well up to a point, then degenerated into chaos as usual. Lucy has shingles, though this wasn’t known (even by her) until after the meeting.
A new private website has been created to get all the bid material together. I spent ages trying to access it and failing until it occurred to me this evening that my two websites (this one and back2sq1) are not WordPress.com sites but just built on WordPress software. Rang David to confirm this, and then I was able to reach the Paston/UEA site by pretending to create a new WordPress.com site. At least, I think that’s what I did.
Later on Monday Dot and I went to Morrisons, who were woefully understaffed on the tills, and in the evening to the cinema, which had a similar problem: tickets could be purchased only at the ice cream or popcorn counters. Wonderful. We saw The Water Diviner, which was very good, though quite gruesome in the war scenes (Gallipoli). Russell Crowe and Olga Kurylenko were excellent, as was Dylan Georgiades as Olga’s young son. Thought he must be Turkish (or Greek), but he’s actually Australian. Yilmaz Erdogan (a Kurd) was also good as the Turkish Major Hasam.
Yesterday Dot went to see Dr Dar, who said she was diabetic (blood count) but had no symptoms. She is going to be monitored at the moment and will probably have to have a pill to correct what appears to be a problem with the pancreas. Later we went to Poringland, where Dot had a violin practice with Janet Smith from the orchestra and I went for a long walk with her husband Graham, who has a train set in his back garden. They are coming to the South of France with us.
In the evening Vicky, Bridget and Judy came round for tea cakes and compline. David is in a bit of a bad way with his swallowing problem and had to be taken to A&E a couple of nights ago. This may turn out well because he now has to see a doctor and get it sorted out.
Today was the Archant agm, held this time at the Forum, where the buffet was not quite so good. However the new CEO, John Henry, gave a very good presentation and reacted well afterwards when Dot pointed out that the EDP had too many mistakes in it. During the meeting itself Maryta asked about demographics and was misunderstood. She also asked for a job, and this was understood. Robin was there, but not Brian, and apparently Bruce is in a bad way with a lung infection (possibly pleurisy).
Dot had to leave early in the buffet to go to Hopton for a school Ofsted feedback, but I hung around until the bitter end and had two glasses of white wine, which wasn’t bad.
