Hectic couple of days. Monday was completed by a walk to Howard’s, where I formed part of an advisory group for Carrie’s activities. This was followed by a meal with Howard and Dot, who had just arrived, and that was followed by a DCC meeting.
A surprise attender at the DCC meeting was Liz, who had a couple of complicated proposals as usual. We sort of agreed the first one, concerning her use of the hall for meditation sessions, but the second was so obscure that after she had presented it for about ten minutes, no-one knew what she was talking about. We suggested she produce a one-page paper on it.
I presented my financial report, and we agreed to contribute whatever was necessary to make up St Luke’s shortfall on their parish share, since we had received an £18,000 legacy and were temporarily affluent. Dot and I walked home afterwards. Very cold. Wished I hadn’t taken the large lever arch file.
Yesterday I visited Lucy after dropping Dot off for her ladies’ lunch at the Mercure Hotel on the ring road. Had a pleasant time with Lucy and Naomi, both of whom seemed quite well, and I now seem to have Lucy’s computer to take in for repair.
Back in Norwich, I picked up Dot and Sue from the lunch and dropped Sue in town. I then walked back into town to pick up the watch I had left for a new battery when I went in earlier to pay in cheques. On the way home I was asked directions to Earlham crematorium by three Essex people in a car. Since they were so far away from where they needed to be, I saw no alternative but to travel with them.
While doing so I discovered that they were already so late for the crematorium that it was pointless going, and so I took them to the Eagle pub on Newmarket Road for the wake. They were profusely grateful, but I declined a pint.
I then walked home again, met chess colleague Jon Burrows on the way and caught a bus outside Debenhams for the last section. Dot didn’t seem to have been too concerned about where I was (she had been at Morrison’s).
I then cooked my own dinner (if you remember, Dot had had a Christmas lunch with the ladies) and compiled a Christmas Compline from sources on the internet and elsewhere. At 8pm Judy, Vicky and the Archers arrived and we had some Christmas nibbles and mulled wine before listening to Dylan Thomas’s superb A Child’s Christmas in Wales, which David Archer had brought on CD, and then doing the Compline. Exhausted, Dot and I then watched A Question of Sport. I don’t know why.
Tim, Jude and Dot at the refurbished Wensum Sports Hall.
They raved about Mr Turner, and the more I think about it, the more I think they were probably right. I should probably watch it again, because it’s a bit of a slow burn. Three excellent performances:Timothy Spall, of course, as the surprisingly unrefined Turner, Dorothy Atkinson as his put-upon but devoted maid, and Marion Bailey as the “profoundly beautiful” Mrs Booth, a memorably good woman.
Most of last week was spent dealing with church financial matters (including a financial report for the year), and writing and rewriting a sermon. Plus various other sedentary matters. Feeling shivery on and off, and although the weather has turned very cold, I don’t think it’s that. Quite disconcerting.
We also had an unexpected visit from Simon (Wakefield), who had fallen over and injured himself. We took him in, warmed him up and Dot bathed his wounds. He was quite shaken. His leg is getting worse, and there is a risk that it might have to be amputated. Very sad. Such a nice guy.
On Friday I called in to see Joy and Andy, and Joy (a former nurse) suggested my minor problem might be hormonal. Nothing really fits my symptoms; so I shall try to give up thinking about it and hope it goes away. Had a good if shivery time with the McCalls, eating Stella McCartney “sausage” rolls and a bit of carrot cake. I took her a rough copy of my Iona book, which has now gone to the printers, complete with a bar code that I got for free off the Internet and is probably therefore deficient. Took two “sausage” rolls home for Dot, who gave them the thumbs up.
Had an unusually vigorous day on Saturday, which was sunny and not quite so cold. I cut down the roses in the back garden (except the ones making their way up and around the arch) and then annihilated the ones in the front garden. While I was doing this, Bob got me a cup of tea, which was nice. Broke off for lunch and then a walk up to Wensum Lodge, where Roger was assisting at the open day to mark its refurbishment. They’ve done an excellent job there. A woman tried to persuade us to play pickle ball, but Dot was heading for the city to pay in a cheque and do a bit of shopping, and I had to get back to finish the roses. However, stayed long enough to meet Jude, who had dropped in after conducting a city tour from the front seat of a coach.
Back at the house I finished off the roses and managed to stuff about two thirds of them into the brown bin, and the rest of them into the green plastic tub. Hard work. I may not do it again for a year or so.
In the evening we took Jude II (Reynolds) to Eleanor’s, where we had been invited for a meal, and had an enjoyable evening, featuring burnt roast vegetables, which we all agreed we liked. Really. Eleanor is very sweet.
Yesterday, after a night during which I felt very hot, I reverted to shivery mode and managed to give a sermon on Advent and taking life seriously, which went down quite well. In the afternoon, after taking the rare opportunity of watching Norwich City win a game, we visited North Walsham cemetery and then Jessie, who produced some trademark mince pies. She seemed very well and can get up the stairs with no problem at all.
Today I’ve written a couple of pieces for Parish Pump, sorted out some cards and presents, got rid of some old papers and carrier bags at Morrisons, posted a parcel and some cards and put out the rubbish. I’ve also written this, and I now have to walk to Howard’s for (a) a meeting about Carrie’s activities (b) a quick meal and (c) a DCC meeting. Dot will be joining us for the latter two. She has cleaned out the utility room and is still working on cards and presents. It’s all go.
Earlier Martin Smith called round with £247 in Enneagram money. I have e-mailed the speaker to find out how much of it he wants.
We got our first Christmas card today - from Sue and Roger Eagle, photographed in August at the lovely Linn of Quoich.
Happily Dot arrived back from Liverpool safely after stopping for fish and chips at a pub (the Generous Briton) in Brant Broughton, Lincolnshire. I spent the rest of the week writing an outline for a new Pastons drama for Chronicle (the Pastons in Norwich), among other things. Did very little walking, with or without my app.
Slight recurrence of pain in left side, which I now think may be down to excess acid in my stomach, because I had reduced my lanzoprasole. I have upped it again, and it was better yesterday.
Quite a busy weekend. Discovered at the last minute yesterday that Steve Snelling (a former colleague) was speaking at the Castle at noon on the first world war Christmas truce of 1914; so rushed up there while Dot was getting some tablets from the chemist. An interesting one-hour talk which revealed some facts little known by me. For example, it happened over quite a long front where the trenches were rudimentary; it was almost entirely instigated by the Germans – for the most part Saxons who were broadly speaking against the war; and senior officers were appalled and threatened dire consequences if it happened again.
Jonathan had offered an extra ticket for Carrow Road; so after lunch Dot and I headed in that direction. It was chilly, but not too bad. The football was pretty dire, though. After scoring in the 9th minute, Norwich City conceded within ten minutes and then again (both from corners). They never really looked like scoring again themselves: set-up and tactics unconvincing; choice of players and substitutions mystifying.
In the evening we went to the Robinsons’ for a meal. Other guests: Bernadette and Barry Hutchings. Was a bit worried about my digestive system, and so took it carefully, but no problem. Very pleasant evening with good conversation.
Yesterday I led the Advent Holy Communion, with Eleanor preaching and presiding. Nice service, though only 15 present. In the evening we went for a meal at the Kerrisons’, giving the Greens a lift. A pleasant time after I had found somewhere to park (about half a mile away, and I’m not exaggerating). Fortunately I’d dropped the others off first. Didn’t find the conversation quite as easy as the previous night; maybe we didn’t have as much in common other than church. Perhaps it’s just random.
On Friday, incidentally, Dot and I made our fist visit to the cinema for some time. We arrived early for the 5.30pm showing of The Imitation Game and went to the Queen of Iceni (Wetherspoons) for a glass of wine, which was surprisingly good and amazingly cheap. I suspect it must have been happy hour or something. The film was excellent – not totally true to the history, but then it didn’t claim to be. Benedict Cumberbatch and Keira Knightley were both excellent. Today we’re going to see Mr Turner, which everyone has raved about.
I’ve just been to Morrison’s to get some mushrooms and tea, and have noted that Dot is on her way back from Liverpool, though I haven’t heard from her. She and Barbara have been delivering some philosophy to some staff at St Helens; they’ve been doing it all day, and now Dot has to drive back. According to the app, she’s now in Swincliffe Crescent, Cleckheaton, which doesn’t seem to make sense. Ah, well.
Earlier today I visited the doctor again and got in to see him only 35 minutes late. Apparently there is nothing wrong with me. My ultrasound scan revealed only a slight fattiness in the liver (no real problem), and the urology people have not got back to my GP, so that can’t be anything urgent. Or it’s so weird they can’t believe it. I suspect the former.
Quite cold today (and yesterday), but a vast improvement on the weekend, which was almost constant rain, just right (not) for the visit of David, Oliver and Amy. We got the table tennis table out again; so that was all good. But we stayed indoors on Saturday morning, and in the afternoon, during a brief break in the wetness, Dot, David and Oliver went to see Norwich draw 3-3 with Brighton while I spent an hour in Hobbycraft with Amy. She was very careful and wouldn’t let me spend any money on her, but she ended up with a white Christmassy branch / tree, some snow, some lights and some other stuff, which we manoeuvred home.
In the evening we all went with Philip and Anne to Prezzo’s, where we discovered that our favourite waitress was on her last shift and was moving to Nando’s. May have to give that a try.
On Sunday we had to scrape the barrel to get a service together. Ruth was supposed to be leading, but she was in Wales. Then Howard was supposed to be leading and preaching, but he was in London with a family crisis. Phil was in Bristol, and Dot was looking after our family; so I ended up leading and playing the guitar, and Anna did a lectio divina in the sermon slot. Add two unsuspecting readers, and it went quite well.
Our family departed just after 2pm, and the journey back seemed to go reasonably quickly. It was still raining, but Dot and I both decided to go to Soul Circus at the Cathedral with Judy. David and Bridget were there, and it was enjoyable, though I think it could be improved.
Last night I got the bus to attend a Science and Faith lecture at Holy Trinity, where I encountered Peter Bussey and Rod Kibble. It was a very good talk on the mystical experiences that people with epilepsy sometimes had: the speaker was excellent, relaxed and witty and not afraid to use the three words “I don’t know” when he didn’t. Thought-provoking. Annoyingly I forgot to take my phone; so my two-mile walk home did not register on my Moves app.
Going back in time, we had a coffee and compline at Claire’s on the Tuesday and a haircut on Wednesday – just in time for Dot to make it to orchestra rehearsal. An unexpected bonus.
As a follow-up to my urology visit last week I am now measuring the liquid that goes in and out of my body for a couple of days. This may sound straightforward, but it it isn’t. You may (or may not) know how much liquid is in a mug of tea, but I can’t remember the last time I drank a complete mug of tea. And so on…
Since the urology visit, I have also had an eye test; and an ultrasound scan on my stomach and large bowel. The former was straightforward and showed healthy eyes with only a slight deterioration in reading vision. The latter happened last night, in the middle of a wood on the outskirts of Norwich, as it was getting dark and threatening rain. Ominous but, in the end, straightforward and on time. No news, of course, until I visit the doctor next week, but apparently I have a small gall bladder. Fascinating.
In more exciting news, last Thursday we visited Dragon Hall, in company with the Hendersons (planned) and the O’dells (unplanned) to see Macbeth, performed in the round by theatre group Crude Apache. I have to say it was totally brilliant, with an excellent Macbeth and lady, and undoubtedly the most impressive witches I have ever seen. Fortunately we got through without anyone in the front row being injured by flying swords, but it was a close thing.
On Friday Joe Logan paid his six-monthly visit to tune our piano, this time at a more civilised hour (11.30am). Later in the day, more excitement as we journeyed to Lucy’s 60th birthday celebration, picking up Penny on the way. Part One was in the Corner Cafe in Mundesley, featuring tea, scones and cake; Part Two was at her house and included strange cocktails in teapots, which may have had something to do with the Prohibition theme. Don’t ask me why. It was all laid on by Simeon and Naomi and went with a bang, which would have been the fireworks.
There has been a lot of rain again, and there was plenty of it on Saturday, when we did little but dash to the supermarket. Sunday looked drier, but it was an illusion. After church (at which I preached on the wrath of God, but not in the way you might be thinking) the rain set in in earnest. We battled through it to Heydon, in the wilds of Norfolk, where Chronicle were putting on a private performance for James and Sue Knox Whittet and a couple of their friends.
Didn’t know what to expect, but it went really well. Islay Cottage was just right, and everything flowed nicely. Afterwards tea, sandwiches, cake and eventually a bit of singing, featuring friend Colin on concertina, some guitar from Caroline and myself and some violin from Dot. Dot and I did Farewell to Philomena, and James and I agreed that Runrig were a top band.
Fireworks at the Castle, as seen from Aspland Road
As I sit here writing this, my wife is mixing with Royalty. A governor of Little Plumstead Primary School, she is meeting Prince Edward (Earl of Wessex) as he visits the school as part of a Norfolk tour. She was panicking slightly as she left because she had just received an e-mail saying that all the parking places were booked and she should park at the church. She wasn’t sure where that was, but no doubt it all turned out all right.
The weather has remained fairly wintry – or at least autumny. I guess it will remain so till about next May. Not sure humans were ever meant to live at these latitudes. Things have been quite hectic, even without the royalty.
Last Saturday I secured an appointment with my uncle Paul and delivered a version of our family tree that he had requested. Needless to say, he didn’t remember requesting it, but he remembers very little nowadays except who people are. When I rang him to arrange the visit, my cousin Stephen was with him, and I had a quick chat with him. He was very upbeat, despite worsening MS. After a pleasant half an hour, I left Paul to his Wiltshire Farms meal and the opportunity to examine the tree. I’ve had no feedback yet, but he was very appreciative of all my efforts. I said I had enjoyed doing it, which was true.
In the evening we visited another Paul – Henderson of that ilk – who was singing in the Philharmonic at St Andrew’s Hall at the time. Good programme: Debussy’s La Mer (orchestra only), then Lloyd’s Mass, which was excellent. Afterwards Paul and Maryta came back for coffee as the rain beat down, and I drove them home.
Another busy day on Sunday: first the Remembrance Communion at church, led by Howard and with Eleanor officiating and preaching. Reading of the names was emotional as always. Phil had called off both church and the Seagull because of work pressures; so in the afternoon Dot and I drove to Aldeburgh to see James Knox Whittet’s exhibition of sonnets and pictures relating to Islay. Although we missed the opening, we were there in time to see James and his wife – and sample some Islay whisky.
We followed this with fish and chips next door at the Galleon (also excellent) and a brief walk on the seafront in the darkness before heading north to Lowestoft. Dot remembered where there was a Morrisons garage and so we were able to save some money on petrol (we had a voucher). We arrived in Pakefield early and so drove down to the harbour and got a drink at the Harbour Inn, which was unexpected and pleasant. Then on to the Seagull, where we rehearsed for a while. Very few people present; so I got an opportunity to sing three songs and read two poems. Dot accompanied me on two of the songs, but declined on the third.
When we set off for Norwich I left my glasses behind. After searching exhaustively for them at home on Wednesday (after managing without them for a couple of days, assuming they’d turn up) I e-mailed Ian, who not only had found them but was about to travel to Norwich; so he dropped them off yesterday afternoon, while I was out but Dot wasn’t.
Travelled to North Walsham on Monday for a meeting of the Paston Trustees, during which Lucy outlined plans for yet another grant bid – this time for a project that had to be completed by the end of March next year. I pointed out the ridiculously short time frame, but to no avail. She is bidding for the money.
In the early evening Naomi arrived to stay for a couple of nights while she completed some work at the UEA. She planned to leave at 8.30 the following morning, but it was after 9.30 before she appeared. Still, all apparently went well. In the afternoon I had my urology appointment at Cromer. They were running nearly an hour late, and none of the expected things like x-ray and scanning happened. I had a flow test, which was OK, and a bit of an examination, but failed to convince the doctor that anything was wrong. So no change there, then.
Yesterday we took the MX5 in to the garage because of a rattle that I had been worried about for some time. I went for a run with mechanic Wayne (nice bloke), who diagnosed it en route as a loose caliber pin sheath (not sure that’s the right word) on the left front wheel. We left it while he packed it with grease and made sure there was no risk of anything going wrong when Dot travels to Liverpool in about ten days. When we picked it up again in late afternoon, it was much better: Dot also got some new mats, which were remarkably cheap, given the cost of everything else with the name Mazda on it.
While the car was in the garage I paid some cheques in and then went to see The Pity of War, a short piece written by and starring David Newham on the friendship between Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen and including (of course) some of their work. While waiting to go in I bumped into Sue and Roger, and sat with them. Also said hello to Trevor Burton, another ex-colleague and actor, afterwards, as well as congratulating David.
Unfortunately, though, I had to rush off, because I had an appointment to meet Joy McCall and Nick Gorvin at 3pm to discuss plans for my Iona book, which Joy insists on financing. First time I’ve been to her house, which is impressive – especially the Garden Room. All specially adapted so that she can move around freely in her wheelchair. Also met her husband Andy for the first time and was able to check that he didn’t mind his wife spending her money in producing a book for me. He didn’t.
After some deep discussion and a brief chat about the book, I have agreed to make it thicker so that it can be perfect bound. Joy insists. I think Nick is a bit bemused by the whole thing. I suppose I am really.
This is a historic day. From 10am St Stephen’s was closed to cars and, no doubt, even more traffic chaos will ensue elsewhere in the city. I popped out and took a bus to the top of the street three days ago and took the memorable picture above. Well, more historic than memorable.
Apart from that, not much physical activity from me in the past three days, but I have been putting quite a lot of effort into researching my family tree, having been nudged into it (see last post). Last time I saw my uncle Paul he said he would like me to do him a tree; so I have been trying to put together something coherent. Obviously you can’t get an entire tree on one sheet of paper; so I’ve compromised with several sheets and a couple of pages of notes. Will deliver tomorrow, having spoken to him (and Stephen) on the phone this lunchtime.
The research was interesting and sometimes exciting but mainly frustrating, because of course all the old records which could have included valuable information don’t. For instance, the omission everywhere of a mother’s maiden name is not helpful. Didn’t these people realise how interested so many people would be in where they came from? Oh no, they didn’t. Why should they?
Anyway, I’m now back to my great-great-great-great grandfather on my father’s side, which I suppose is something, though the earliest two generations are slightly speculative. They make sense, though. Nothing really too thrilling, though. About the most exciting thing I’ve discovered is that my great-grandmother was a servant at a chemist’s in Regent Street when she was 26 and unmarried. This also revealed the answer to the question of why she got married in London, when her home was in Northamptonshire and the groom’s home was in Huntingdonshire. So a small triumph there.
Meanwhile the weather has turned very wintry, not encouraging me to go out, though Dot has been to many different schools this week. Naomi has asked if she can stay with us for a while, and I’ve said yes.
Right on schedule, the weather has turned wintry: it is, after all, Bonfire Night tomorrow. Happily the cold conversion was preceded by some unseasonably mild weather, during which Dot and did some tidying up in the garden. But yesterday I ventured into the city with some cheques (accompanied by Dot on a different mission to Dipples and Jarrolds) and a very dark sky presented us with some unpleasantly chilly drizzle.
Ah well: all good things come to an end, they say, and I have also come to the end of my Find-my-Past credits. They warned me their time was running out, so I had a blitz, during which I discovered some stuff about my cousin Brenda, who turned out to be older than I thought, and then a little about my grandmother’s family. I have now decided to abdicate from FMP and stick to Genes Reunited, where I have my Family Tree.
Further speculation about the past occurred last week, when Dot and I went with Judy to a talk at the Quaker Meeting House on fossil evidence for the Flood and a young Earth. It was interesting enough to get Judy and me to a debate two nights later (Friday) at the same place, where the original speaker debated with a vicar who championed Evolution. I had some sympathy with the former speaker, but I don’t think he quite understood that the Bible wasn’t written in English and that references to well known figures could be to legend rather then history. The other guy was more appealing but his dependence on statistics and consensus was not terribly convincing. As always, they didn’t really answer each other’s points.
Why was Dot not present at the debate? She had a ticket to watch Norwich City beat Bolton, about which there was no dispute.
Between these ventures into the past Dot and I had a meal with Angela and Rodney at Prezzo’s, who were understaffed and hard pressed. Still, the meal was nice enough, and it was a pleasant evening, catching up on Auntie Ethel’s latest confusions.
On Sunday, in the absence of Nicholas, en route to Aspen, I led a joint service at the hall. This was because St Luke’s had given the day over to a kind of installation in which people read from the Bible for 24 hours and there was a brazier outside (not sure why). After the service Dot and I went along to hear Judy read from one of Peter’s letters. Our service had 14 Augustinians joined by ten from St Luke’s, and Howard speaking on All Souls, All Saints and Hallowe’en, and suggesting we should pay more attention to All Saints Day.
In the afternoon Dot and I visited Jessie after calling in at a gloomy cemetery to drop off flowers – almost literally, as there was not much space for parking and we were late for Mason Villa. Roger was also with Jessie, and I talked to him quite a bit about his recent America trip and about the flow and power of showers. Nice afternoon. Sad news from Phil about Sam and Lucy, who is still very unwell. Phil and Joy have just spent two weeks with them.
Poppies at the Tower of London: you can almost see them flowing out of the window.
Quiet week last week, or maybe my memory’s gone. I see to recall attending a private view at the Theatre Royal for Martin Laurance and a couple of other artists (ML impressive as always), but the only person there I knew apart from Martin was Hilary Mellon. Dot was working hard at home: she has quite a lot on at the moment.
We were due to spend the weekend with the Coomes in London, but David was taken ill on the Thursday night with a bad bout of nocturnal epilepsy, which left him in a lot of pain. So instead we arranged to go down on the train for Saturday only and meet Kristine at Liverpool Street. The train was full and we eventually found ourselves sitting next to a very pleasant and interesting couple: the husband was an aerial photographer, and we learnt some intriguing things about CGI and created landscapes. He also showed us some pictures he’d taken from a helicopter of the 800,000 poppies at the Tower of London.
After meeting Kristine we took a tube to Victoria and eventually found a pub-restaurant she’d booked called The Phoenix, which was terrific, and took us although we were 15 minutes late. The food was first-class. We all had sea bass, and Dot and I shared some chips. Afterwards we tubed to Pimlico and walked to the Tate, arriving just before our allotted time of 3pm.
Not sure why galleries have to be so hot. After reaching the second room (of six) I had to go to the loo and take all my clothes off, but I did put my shirt back on again. Extensive show of late Turner paintings, and as I love Turner I could have stayed all day – but it was tiring, and we eventually repaired to the shop and then the cafe.
Kristine stayed on the tube while we changed for London Bridge, where we found it hard to find the river and ended up in the back streets of Bermondsey surrounded by massive construction works. But after inquiring of a construction guy we eventually hit the river by HMS Belfast, where we had a very expensive glass of wine (over £15 for two) on the upper deck of the cafe (not the ship). Still, no doubt we were paying for the view, which was superb.
Afterwards we proceeded to Tower Bridge and walked over it to the Tower of London and its poppies, which even in the dark of early evening were more than impressive. From there we intended to take the tube from Tower Hill to Liverpool Street, but the tube station was closed, and a notice informed us it was a short walk – which, compared to the West Highland Way, it certainly is. I am used to walking between Liverpool Street and London Bridge, but wasn’t at all sure of myself here, and we had to ask a couple of people, both of whom were extremely helpful.
London seems to be covered by construction work at the moment. However, we made it in time for the 8.30pm train, which again was packed, and we dozed most of the way home.
Our unexpected availability on the Sunday meant we could not only go to church, but also re-insert an abandoned meal with the Greens and Barbara Vidion at our house, during which the visiting trio majored on Burma, where the Greens had just been, and which Barbara was due to travel to. Nothing that was said would have enticed me to visit Burma, but this is no doubt a deficiency on my part.
However, the feeling is shared by Julia Higbee, as was revealed when we visited her and Allan for lunch yesterday at Newton Flotman. Dot drove; so I was able to indulge more than usual, and we had a lovely meal and conversation. Autumn is drawing on, but the weather is good at the moment: crisp and mainly dry, with plenty of sun.
I should mention that on Monday I obtained £300 in dollars as a gift for Nicholas from St Augustine’s congregation. Dot and I delivered it to him in the afternoon, and he was effusively grateful. He is already looking American. While on the theme of travel, Dot and I have just committed to a week in the South of France with Fred and Sue next May, travelling from Luton airport. Fred is making all the arrangements; so I am quietly confident.
Back in Norwich, with plenty of sleep to catch up on. Not Amy’s fault: she was a model child, and could probably have looked after herself if she could drive. It was the early mornings and the multiple journeys: I seem to have covered a good chunk of Hertfordshire, plus pieces of neighbouring counties.
Friday was an interesting day. The journey to school was smooth, with none of the problems of the previous day. Dot settled down to cleaning limescale off the shower, and I did a bit of reading. We picked up Amy at 4.15pm, and I saw Becky (Amelie’s mother) arrive and meet her parents, who appeared to be taking Amelie’s brother Sebastian somewhere while Becky waited for the girls. We decided to take Amy home and collect a change of clothes (as a precaution) before heading towards Felden, just the other side of Hemel Hempstead.
The M1 was fine, but the bits before and after were crowded, and we seemed to take an age getting through Hemel Hempstead with its famously weird (but efficient) roundabout. Amy was worried about being late, but in fact we arrived ten minutes before Becky and the other girls and chatted to Becky’s parents or sat quietly in the car, depending on who we were.
Not wanting to go back on to the M1 on a Friday evening in rush hour, we reset the satnav for “shortest” instead of “fastest” and ruled out motorways. At first this backfired badly, as it kept returning us to where we started, but in the end it guided us through some side streets and on to the Leighton Buzzard road, when we arrived quickly and surprisingly at Water End, not far from Beechwood Park. Dot started on cooking the lasagne, and we decided it was best if I picked up Oliver from the Travellers’ Rest.
This went well, and I delivered him back to Caddington for his meal. I had a bite or two before setting off for Felden again, using the new route, which again worked well. I was only a minute or two late to pick up Amy at just after 8.30pm. I was invited in: the house was beautiful and in a lovely setting on Felden ridge. Becky chatted for a while about schools and other things, and then Amy and I drove back again to Caddington, where I fell upon my lasagne and, shortly afterwards, into bed.
Not quite such an early start on Saturday. We were at Dunstable Leisure Centre in good time for Amy’s swimming lesson at 9am, followed by Oliver’s at 9.30. We met Claire, a chartered surveyor, whose son James is in Oliver’s group, and enjoyed a hot drink. Afterwards we returned to Caddington, where Amy unwrapped her presents and got a visit from Grace. Amy seemed to like her sponsored snow leopard. I found that Grace had also sponsored one; so snow leopards are safe in Caddington.
Next up was the birthday lunch at Flamstead Harvester. Very pleasant, though it’s hard to resist eating too much of the free salad. The waitress was excellent. Returning to the house, Grace came round again, before heading off to Dubai. Amazing. The four of us then set off for Aylesbury, following the satnav route until it was overruled by Oliver directing us to his school, which we caught a glimpse of as we turned back to Vicky’s house.
We found this with the combined help of Oliver and the satnav, and Vicky invited us in for a cup of tea. The children invited us to look round the house, and then we had a viewing of the rather frightening video of Oliver driving a Ferrari at 100mph. It was nice to see where the children spent half their time.
Heading back to Caddington, we had to divert when police blocked the Whipsnade road where, it transpired later, a motorcyclist had been killed in a crash. This just put us back on to the road over Dunstable Downs, where I got some quite nice pictures of the sunset.
We set off for home just before 7pm and had an easy journey – Dot driving – arriving about 9.15pm after calling in at the Hitchin garage for petrol, food and flowers (a bouquet for Heather the next day). Both totally shattered when we got to Norwich: watched a bit of TV and didn’t unpack till today…
…missing out Sunday completely. But we still had to get up reasonably early to reach St Luke’s by 9.30am for a rehearsal with their worship band (four guitars, keyboards, flute, violin, viola – and that was without Phil, who didn’t make it). This Communion service was the final appearance by Nicholas before his departure for Aspen at the beginning of next month, and included a bring-and-share lunch, for which Nicholas sat me next to Stuart, presumably so that I could talk to him. Other than playing our instruments, we didn’t take any leading role in the service, but being in such a big music group was fun.
Afterwards, with autumn hastening on, we more or less collapsed into the sofa and watched lots of television. Today we were late up and have been slowly unravelling. Although it was tiring, we loved being with Amy and being part of her routine, and spending a day with Oliver too.
It’s now raining, and there is the promise of strong winds later. I got out just in time to pay in some church cheques, and Dot picked up her pills. David no doubt is recovering from his journey. We spoke at length on FaceTime yesterday, and he seemed pretty well. Today is Amy’s birthday, but we have been unable to contact her yet.
