All posts by Tim Lenton

Farewell to Philomena

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philomenaThe talk at Halesworth went all right, despite my rather sketchy knowledge of tanka. It was sunny but much, much colder then the previous day. I drove through Bridge Street but failed to locate the driveway where I was supposed to park; so I left the car in the pay-and-display and walked down. After finding it, I returned for the car. Made some  money on it, too. Paid 70p for parking but found £1 in the return slot.

The tension persisted while I had a cup of tea in the adjacent cafe and established that the talk was to be in the library. In the library the group, some nine strong, were given an exercise which was supposed to last about 15 minutes, but as they all had to read out what they’d written and everyone else had to comment on each effort, it actually lasted nearer 45 minutes. Ah, well. I did speak eventually and they seemed to be happy. The organiser, Tom Corbett, bought me a sandwich afterwards, I had a chat with some of the group, and the drive home was very relaxing.

I had quite a good night’s sleep after that, but the next day I had a chess game, playing for the A team against Norfolk and Norwich in the semi-final of the Williamson Cup. They were desperate, as I believe I mentioned. I walked there (they play at Thorpe House school) and played pretty well, considering I hadn’t had a competitive match for months. Then I did a pretty close impression of Norwich v Stoke:  I won a piece and should have finished off the game easily, but simplified when I shouldn’t have and eventually drew when all the pawns came off.

This was made worse by (a) the fact that my opponent was graded considerably below me and (b) the unfortunate detail that if I had won we’d have made the final. Still, the team captain managed to throw away a much more obvious win and lose; so I can’t really feel too bad about it. Afterwards I had to find a side gate and climb down a bank to get out of the school grounds (the gates only opened for cars), and then predictably had another bad night. I only have the stamina for half a game of chess nowadays.

The next day was better. I delivered Phil’s presents and birthday card and then went up to the chemist to get a prescription for Dot. On my return the plumber came and put a new ballcock in the tank in the loft, and on this basis (and a word from the vicar) I recommended him to Paul and Maryta for work they want doing on their potential new house on Ipswich Road.

That night (Wednesday) I slept badly again, waking with severe pains in my stomach. Looking back, this may have been caused by mouldy bread. I noticed today that the loaf I had used for supper on Wednesday was going off in a big way. Anyway, I had recovered enough not to put off Roger and Sue Eagle, who were scheduled to come for lunch on Thursday, did, and stayed till  about 5pm. Dot made soup, bread, a dessert and a rhubarb crumble, and we had a really nice time. We’re hoping they will join us for a week in Scotland later in the year.

Had quite a reasonable night last night and noticed this morning that I’ve lost a quarter of a stone. My blood test came back clear, but I’m still not feeling 100 per cent. Have written a few Lent poems.

Today was Philomena’s funeral. She has lived next-door-but-one to us for some 30 years, but I discovered much more from the funeral homily in the RC Cathedral than I ever knew about her. Her maiden name is O’Driscoll, for instance, which is much more fun than Humphry. Very nice service. I walked there, and Dot arrived by car after an early lunch with Carrie at the Reading Rooms. Also present: Mary from next door; Diane, who used to live next door; and her predecessors, whose name escapes me. They now have a big B&B on Lower Clarence Road. He used to drive round the city in a horse and cart, but he now has a mobility scooter.  There must be a song in that. Or maybe not.

David has been in Canada all this week and returns tonight. We haven’t been to the cinema this week yet. May not make it now.

Words in the night

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The moon seen through the windmill at Thurne
The moon seen through the windmill at Thurne

It’s just after 4am, and I’m shattered. Haven’t slept for the past two hours. I’ve just finished my antibiotics, and I guess I’m feeling a bit more healthy, but I’m quite down at the moment. I have a very heavy feeling in my abdomen. Today I have to give a talk to some people at Halesworth, and I’m quite nervous about it, because I’m not entirely sure what’s expected. The guy organising it is one of those people who assume you know what he’s thinking. I’ve never met him or any of the people involved.

Yesterday was a bit of a disaster too. I made a bit of a mess of the hymns, Howard hadn’t chosen a reading and various other things weren’t right. The day was somewhat redeemed when Dot and I went out in the afternoon: it was a sunny and warm day (18C), and we started at Billockby, where we visited a ruined church recommended to me by Joy McCall and then went on to Thurne, where we walked from the church and down along the river bank. Stunning, really.

I had a blood test on Friday; no doubt that won’t show anything , which of course is good in a way. On Saturday Dot and I went out to North Walsham in the afternoon, visiting the atrium and the high school, where they were showing some old photographs of the town. Ran into Jessie (among other people, including Brian Gaudette[?] from EN subs) and we went back to hers for tea and biscuits afterwards, accompanied by a friend of hers who turned out to be Richard Batson’s mother-in-law. We all listened to the football. Norwich City managed to throw away a cast-iron win by giving away a penalty.

In the evening Dot and I went to the Cathedral for Night Vision, a Soul Circus event featuring hi-tech sounds and visuals from Robin Vincent and a communion presided over by Suzanne Cooke, who seems to have taken to being a vicar like a natural, which of course she is.

Another Lent event took place at St Luke’s on Wednesday, and I attended while Dot was at orchestra. This was an Ash Wednesday communion, and attracted a surprising number – somewhere around 50, including Howard and Anna, and Anna’s sister Nicola. Had tea afterwards and walked home: at least I can walk a fair distance now without feeling exhausted.

The garage door was fixed on Thursday and looks quite good, though of course the frame now needs painting. Dot is undecided between brown (like the window frames) and green (like the gates). Later we picked up three pictures that have been framed, though we haven’t actually got round to hanging them anywhere yet.

On Tuesday last week we had a meal that was definitely not a Tuesday Group affair. Oh no. However, Bridget, David, Vicky and Claire did come, and we had pancakes. This coming Tuesday I am playing chess in a cup match. Not really looking forward to it, but they were desperate.

Yeats knew a thing or two

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Crocuses in the Rosary
Crocuses in the Rosary

Sunny and relatively mild the last few days. Went to the doctor yesterday and got some antibiotics, but didn’t feel I’d really explained the problem properly. I’m having a blood test on Friday, so that should reveal anything underlying. I get tired very easily.

Before going to the doctor’s I drove Dot to a meeting at Thorpe High School, and she walked from there to pick me up from surgery, arriving only an hour after my appointment but while I was in with the doctor. I had been in the waiting room for almost an hour, which may be a record. After lunch we walked into the city, and she got her feet looked at while I paid in some church cheques at the TSB. Dot then spent some time looking round the shops while I returned home and did some work.

Part of the work was preparing a financial report for the DCC last night. That was well received, but they are easily pleased, I’m happy to say. While waiting for the doctor I wrote a couple of poems, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.

Dot and I went to a poetry conversation at the Playhouse on Friday, organised by the UEA.  Adrian Ward and two people from the Seagull were there. There was some interesting stuff, but as usual with such things, one or two people dominated and the talk kept going off at a tangent (“things fall apart; the centre cannot hold” – W B Yeats).

On Saturday, after getting some groceries for Joy and Phil because the latter is ill in bed, we drove to North Walsham for a visit to the cemetery – followed more importantly by a meal with Jessie, attended also by Roger and Liz. Ate far too much, of course, but a very pleasant time. Jessie is having quite a lot of problems with her eyes, probably as a result of an allergy to her most recent drops.

On Sunday the vicar made an appearance, following his recent excursion to Aspen, Colorado, but the congregation was ushered out rather sharpish to make way for a baptism at 1pm, which seemed kind of odd. In the afternoon Dot and I went up to the Rosary with flowers for Mum and Dad’s grave, followed by  a glance at a house on Thorpe Road that had caught Dot’s attention.

We have extracted Dot’s car from the garage, though she collided with one side of it in the process. Now it is in a holding pattern by the roadside, because the replacement people are coming on Thursday with two big vans and need the space. Hence the arrangement mentioned in paragraph two.

Garage gives up ghost

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Hickling Broad recently
Hickling Broad recently

Well, I did make it to Caddington, and very glad I did. We actually went down on the Saturday morning and stayed till teatime, after the children had been picked up by Vicky. Had time for a good chat with both Oliver and Amy, and Oliver showed me what Minecraft was all about. I now sort of understand it. David showed me how to use Evernote, which is more exciting than it sounds.

Dot drove both ways because I still wasn’t feeling good. In fact I’m still not feeling good. I think I’m getting over it and then I suddenly feel quite ill, with a lot of pressure in my abdomen and feeling shaky. Then I have crackling in my head. Paracetamol is quite good. If I weren’t going to see the doctor next Monday, I would probably have been in for an emergency appointment by now.

I’ve been well enough to carry on with most things, though. On Sunday I played guitar and led the prayers. On Monday we had our hair cut, after Dot had taken my glasses into Boots and got a new screw fitted (they fell apart in church on Sunday). And after we’d taken three pictures to be framed and returned the projector to the church hall so that Stuart could use it. On Tuesday I didn’t do much either.

Yesterday Dot and I went to the cinema at midday and saw The Monuments Men, about saving stolen art from the Nazis. Very good, but not brilliant. I would like to have seen Kristin Scott Thomas in the Cate Blanchett role, but then I like to see Kristin Scott Thomas in anything. The minor roles were particularly well played, and our use of the Odeon card enabled us to get two free tickets!

Arriving back from Morrisons in the rain on Tuesday, I opened the garage door, and it convulsed and spewed out some nasty black, oily tubing. I managed to feed it back into the hole it came out of – at the cost of getting very oily hands. Internet research revealed that attempting to mend garage doors can result in death or serious injury (I exaggerate slightly), so I contacted a local firm recommended by Colin Wright. A guy came this morning, and we have ordered a new door, which should be with us by next week. Meanwhile, I can open the current door and get the car out, if I’m very careful.

Now I have to find a plumber to fix the tank in the loft.

Kay has “resigned” from Chronicle – probably temporarily – for personal reasons, and Dot will probably be doing some reading and maybe violin-playing for our next performance. Not till September, probably, when we’re booked into Oxnead Hall for our new still embryonic Oxnead collection. Meanwhile I’ve been working on getting it into some kind of order, which is quite tricky as most of the stuff we’ve written is about one end of the timeline. Yes, Sir Robert.

I’ve also managed to produce (today) a financial report for the DCC on Monday. No news from Howard on transferring the account. Did I mention that Howard and Anna had invited us to go to Iona with them in June? They have. Looking forward to it. It’s going to snow tomorrow, allegedly.

Elliott makes his entrance

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Elliott getting the measure of his father
Elliott getting the measure of his father

Funny few days. Haven’t been feeling particularly well, but not sure why. Today my stomach feels odd, but I hope to be well enough to go to Caddington this afternoon.

On Wednesday, after Dot had been to Park Farm and I had been for a short walk, we went to the Queen’s Head in Hethersett for lunch, and I had a sort of brunch. Slow service, but the food was good. Dot dropped me off in St Augustine’s afterwards, and I paid the church cheques in at the TSB, then walked home. Felt completely flaked out when I arrived. Weather was quite mild – maybe I was too warm!

Yesterday we had two unexpected visitors (in the sense that we only knew about them shortly before they arrived). First came the Hendersons, who are on the verge of buying a house on Ipswich Road: Dot felt the call to make some rock cakes, which were very nice. Then my great-nephew Elliott made an appearance, accompanied by his parents. They are staying with Phil and Joy.

Elliott is a bit of a star, with a lovely smile, and I took some quite reasonable photos, together with some very bad ones.

Earlier in the day I wrote a new poem and sent it and a couple of others off to competitions. I don’t know why I keep doing this: they hardly ever do anything, and it means I can’t publish them until the competition is over. Still, you have to keep trying.

We keep watching the winter Olympics, but I can’t take many of the events seriously. In my view anything that gets style marks is not a sport.

Set to a different tune

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Dot among the snowdrops at Whitlingham
Dot among the snowdrops at Whitlingham

The rain has abated for a while, and it’s fairly safe to venture out. In fact the sun is shining. Juliet Corbett from the Diocese has just been round for lunch and a DSSO meeting with Dot. Discovered she is very interested in poetry, and her husband (Tom) is a poet. She took away my recent book and a couple of others.

We have disbanded the Tuesday Group for various reasons and after many years. As a finale last Tuesday we all went to the Playhouse to see John Newton: Amazing Grace, performed by the Saltmine Theatre Company. I wasn’t sure how they would handle the material, but they did very well, with plenty of songs and climaxing, of course, with a beautiful performance of Amazing Grace – originally no 41 in the Olney Hymnal and not particularly popular, until it was taken to American and set to a different tune. The rest is history. I chose it as one of our hymns on Sunday.

The next day Dot and I dodged the rain to catch a special performance of Philomena at the Odeon for seniors : £6 for the two of us, plus a free cup of tea! The film was very moving, both Judi Dench and Steve Coogan were excellent, and I had trouble holding back the tears. In fact I was a complete failure at it.

On Thursday I accompanied Dot on a DSSO visit to Hickling, hoping to run into Lily, who is an old friend and who plays piano for their assemblies. This didn’t materialise, but I had a good walk over to the Broad and back in sunny but chilly conditions. I have since discovered that Lily is married to the churchwarden and lives in The Street.

The next day – Valentine’s Day – I had a meeting of Paston trustees in the afternoon which turned out to be even more incoherent than usual. Nevertheless, I produced some minutes  which seem to have met with approval, if silence can be deemed to be approval. Rob liked them, anyway. In the evening Dot and I had a celebratory meal from Waitrose, with some very pleasant sparkling rosé. I bought Dot an M&S bag that she had coveted.

The weekend was relatively quiet: I led the service again and had to prepare an emergency “sermon” in case Carrie was detained at the last minute. Fortunately she wasn’t. It was a lovely day, and so after Dot had done some work in the garden, tidying up after a gale on Friday night, and I had hoovered the entire house, we went to Whitlingham for a walk along the lane, taking in a fair number of snowdrops. By the end I was totally exhausted. Not sure why.

Yesterday, by contrast, Dot arrived back from a meeting with Barbara totally exhausted, while I was feeling more or less OK. In the evening we went to the ballet at the Theatre Royal: Sleeping Beauty, by the Russian State Ballet of Siberia. The tickets had been my present to Dot at her last birthday, and the performance was striking. The staging was brilliantly colourful and clever, not to say witty, and while from a narrative point of view the structure fell apart after the interval, the dancing was stunning. I say this as someone who is not at all into ballet.

The uphill walk to the theatre was avoided as Bridget and David pulled up in our drive as we were leaving. They were bringing us flowers and a card to thank us for running the Tuesday Group for so long. Very thoughtful. They also gave us a lift up to John Lewis, from where it was a short and easy walk to the theatre.

Another brilliant Coen Brothers film

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Outside The Shady Oak in Fernilee, near Buxton
Outside The Shady Oak in Fernilee, near Buxton

A rather quiet few days for us, largely because the weather has been so wet and cold that we didn’t feel like doing much. Dot had a few appointments she had to keep, of course, but my excursions have been limited to accompanying her to the city on Saturday in search of linseed oil / methylated spirits (it’s a violin thing), driving to church on Sunday and taking the car in for an MOT and service yesterday.

We did start the week by going to the cinema (4 weeks out of 4) to see Inside Llewyn Davis, the latest Coen Brothers film, which is brilliant. It’s set in the 60s pre-Dylan folk scene of Greenwich Village (mainly) – a Dylan lookandsoundalike appears at the end – and it’s about success and failure. The title character is a very good folk singer but has several flaws, mainly his propensity for making the wrong decision at every turn. Beautifully done and highly recommended.

Have also read two good books – On the Steel Breeze by Alastair Reynolds and A Season in the West by Piers Paul Read. Reynolds has amazing ideas and writes beautifully well; and Read is just a first-rate novelist: his more recent The Misogynist was stunning.

I’ve also done some work on the family tree: I now have a death certificate for my great-great grandmother Sarah Lenton, who died in 1872. Have tried to find our her maiden name, but no definite success, though it may be Green. Meanwhile I’ve cleaned out a lot of files and have bought a shredder to deal with the sensitive papers. It was ordered on Saturday from Rymans and delivered yesterday.

I had to lead the service on Sunday because Carrie was dealing with a very sad case of a guy who accidentally overdosed on anti-depressants. Dot mentioned my new book.

I was fortunate yesterday when I took the car in for its service and MOT, because the rain cleared for almost precisely the time it took me to walk home (well over three miles). I called in at Barclays on Aylsham Road to pay in a cheque and then at the TSB in Magdalen Street to pay in church cheques. I toyed with going in to the city but felt too tired: I was exhausted when I got home – mainly, I think, because I had too much on. I was sweating quite lot. Felt much better later, when Dot drove me up to the garage to  ransom the car (just over £300).

Miserable as the weather is, we’re very fortunate to live in an area not so hard hit by flooding. The south and south-west are inundated, and now that it’s reached the Thames Valley, even the BBC are taking it seriously. That was quite unfair. I retract it.

Cold walk around the reservoir

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Dave and Julia take a close look at a hazard on the Fernilee footpath
Dave and Julia take a close look at a hazard on the Fernilee footpath

The weekend at Buxton turned out less muddy than I anticipated, though there are those who found it extreme. In view of the forecast we were fortunate: our walk on the Sunday was dry and mainly sunny, and the promised wind was not as severe as we had been led to believe.

Led by Dave, we walked round Fernilee reservoir, the outward leg being a bit of a challenge in view of the fallen trees and minor diversions. The home leg was much easier, along a former railway track and so flat, though still very wet in places.

In between the outward and the inward leg came lunch, of course. At Julia’s behest this was essential, and so we climbed up out of the valley into Fernilee village and The Shady Oak, which was surprisingly empty for a Sunday. Dot and I weren’t very hungry, so we shared cheese sandwiches, washed down by cider.

Back at the hotel, Dave and Julia hastened into town (they have more stamina than us, perhaps because their natural pace is slower). Dot and I followed after a short rest – bit of a mistake as far as I was concerned, because although we had a cup of tea looking out over the gardens and then ran into D & J on the way back, it left me feeling really exhausted and not too well.  Usual head problem, but not as severe as it might have been.

The previous day, with abundant rain promised, we took the train to Manchester. Dot and Julia spent most of the day in M & S and Selfridges, while Dave and I went to the Museum of Science and Industry, which was fascinating but cold. We saw only part of it and both wanted to return some time. The wind and rain held off till we emerged from MOSI, when we were lashed by it on the way to the free bus (great system in Manchester city centre) (the free bus, not the rain).

Back at Buxton the wind and rain were even worse, and we had to battle against it up the hill to the hotel. Surprisingly, though, no snow over the entire weekend. Hotel was good as usual, other than low water pressure (being fixed). Food was very good.

The journey up there went reasonably well, though there were some hold-ups, and the second half was in pouring rain. Coming back was easier. We called at Andrew’s in Coventry, but he was out, and as I had cold symptoms and the house had a diarrhoea and sickness warning, we didn’t linger – just dropped off his jacket, which we’d had dry-cleaned. We used the Bedford route back to Norwich, which is longer but easy.

Yesterday Dot dropped me at the church hall to meet the man replacing our electricity meter. He had phoned to say he would be early, but was in fact half an hour late because he’d received an emergency call. Anyway, he replaced the meter as I watched (he was a pleasant guy) and I then walked home. Felt pretty groggy when I got there and was quite relieved when it turned out that most people were not coming to Tuesday Group; so we cancelled it and had a relaxing evening watching television.

Missed our new Monday slot at the cinema this week (too tired after journey), but may go this afternoon, if Dot finishes her paperwork in time. We had a lie-in this morning, and I feel a bit better.

Straightening out

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P1110289

Very soggy indeed outside: the whole month has been pretty wet, and I suspect our forthcoming weekend at Buxton may feature some quite muddy walking. Still, you never know.

I’ve been straightening out the office, which is quite satisfying. I am still treasurer of the church, but I’m not sure how long that will go on. Howard is trying to open a new account, as far as I know. He preached on the financial situation on Sunday and did it quite well, though I always feel uneasy about that sort of thing.

I’ve been in touch with Andrew’s care worker, Elaine, who seemed quite surprised about his funding situation. Apparently no-one had told her; so I’m not sure what the finance department of Coventry City Council is up to. She is now trying to get some sense out of them. Best of luck to her.

Ethel, her friend John and Dot's new top feature in the cake-cutting
Ethel, her friend John and Dot’s new top feature in the cake-cutting

It poured with rain for Ethel’s 90th birthday party on Sunday. It took place at her care home in Welborne and was attended by the usual suspects: Angela, Rodney, Vicki and Graham; Roger and Rosie; Tally’s daughter-in-law Ann and her son Rob, who is a carpenter. I remember this because she told me several times. Dot had arranged for Marion to make a sponge cake – beautiful as always – and a fruit cake appeared from elsewhere. A jolly time was had by all.

The Paston exhibition has come to an end after three months. Dot managed to get Anne there on the last day, but the story goes on. Yesterday Rob and I visited the UEA for a talk with Dr Karen Smyth about her new project on the Pastons, which will start small and get a a lot of input from us but eventually build up to a digital heritage monster that could attract as much as £1 million in grant or research money.

The good news is that the work we do for it in the initial stages (and possibly later on as well) will be paid for; so maybe all that voluntary work we’ve done over the years will eventually reap its reward. Other than the reward implicit in doing it, of course.

Following that meeting, Caroline joined us for a Chronicle meeting and lunch – prepared by Dot despite the fact that the school she’s governor of is in the midst of Ofsted. She left later to be interviewed by the inspector. We had a good meeting: I sang my song, and Caroline read her poems, and we planned a way forward. I am going to work on a structure for the new performance (based on Oxnead), and Rob is going to try to get the owners of the Hall interested enough to host it.

We have managed to visit the cinema three Mondays in a row, which is amazingly consistent for us. Following Hobbit 2 and Gravity, we went to see American Hustle, which was excellent in many ways, but still not quite as good as the other two. The fact that it’s based on a true story possibly made it a little less neat than it might have been. As Tom Clancy says, the difference between fact and fiction is that fiction has to make sense.

Tuesday Group was at the Archers this week, and I had a carload, taking Judy, Ian and Harriet through pouring rain (Dot was preparing for Ofsted). We are considering dropping TG for a while and inviting different people round as part of a new church project. But we want to keep seeing David and Bridget and Vicky, who no longer attend St Augustine’s, so we’ll probably invite them too. Anyway, we’re still thinking about it.

My tanka book with Joy McCall has just been published, and I’m picking up some copies later. It’s on Amazon, but with the disturbing note that it’s not available, and they don’t know when it will be. I hope someone sorts that out. Not me, obviously.

Problems with paperwork

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A rare picture of my cousin Adrian, now sadly dead, at 67 Brian Avenue with Dot, Mum and an early version of David
A rare picture of my cousin Adrian, now sadly dead, at 67 Brian Avenue with Dot, Mum and an early version of David

After reaching the summit of the travel insurance mountain, I collapsed on the church account ridge. After attempting to complete the first form yesterday – only to find it was mainly irrelevant and unanswerable – I felt blood rushing around my brain and decided to resign as treasurer. I sent an e-mail to Nicholas and Howard. I also wrote a letter to NatWest, heavily critical of their approach to getting new customers.

Later in the day I got an e-mail from Howard, asking to come round and talk to me at teatime. He eventually arrived about an hour late, after being held up in a traffic jam, and we discussed his holiday in Burma, plus a little bit about the problems I’d had with banks. It turns out he’s had similar problems, but he offered to go to TSB, where he knew someone, and see if anything could be done more simply.

This morning he rang to say that he thought they could sort it out. Apparently he had opened the account in the first place and was able to discuss the whole thing on a different basis. I should have got him involved earlier.

To celebrate, I managed to complete the Gift Aid claim form which, in an act of  monumental stupidity, the tax people provide only in a download format that will not open on a Mac.  I mean, what’s wrong with Excel? I can only conclude that financial people go out of their way to drive you insane.

So I had to download additional software. My first attempt wouldn’t open either because it didn’t have the right certificate and I needed a later version (chance would be a fine thing). So I ended up with something called Libre, which did work. Then the form was so unclear that I had three attempts at filling it in before it accepted what I’d entered.

I haven’t decided yet whether to go through with my resignation as treasurer. I would certainly like to. The St Luke’s treasurer, who is new, is down with pneumonia, so the year-end accounts should be interesting.

Yesterday I also missed my second funeral in the space of a week when a slight hiccup occurred in Dot’s invitation to Richard to come round  for lunch. When I told her that the funeral (for John Care) was at 1pm she texted Richard to tell him to come earlier, but although he received it, he didn’t read it; and so turned up at 12. Judging that the living were more important than the dead (a tricky call) we had lunch and a long discussion with Richard, and I wrote an apologetic letter to Jonathan.

I did however manage to get to Surrey Chapel this afternoon for a thanksgiving service for John Tillett, the church organist and the man who helped us get football started at Surrey by finding us a pitch at Eaton Park. Also a lovely man – one of those people who was kind and generous to everyone. The church was packed, and I met Phil outside and sat with him. I said hello to a few people, but I knew very few really, and I left Phil chatting in the end.

Dot is now at a governors’ meeting. We missed supper, because she got heavily involved with a North Walsham history page on Facebook and started recognising people she knew. It got a bit out of control after that.