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To Wales, water and back

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llanberis house
Our home for a fortnight: Pant y Cafn, on the Llanberis path to Snowdon

Slept in till 10 this morning after a tiring few days: both Dot and I had been slightly unwell following our holiday, though not bad enough to stop us functioning more or less normally. The journey back from Wales on Friday had been arduous, though it started in a very relaxed way as we called in at Swallow Falls, near Betwys-y-Coed, at Dot’s suggestion. Worthwhile, despite having to pay to get in (£1.50 each). Falls thunderous after all the rain in recent days. Petrol in Betwys, then drove on to Telford, making slow progress after Llangollen because of heavy traffic. Paused for a snack and then on to Coventry via M6 toll after being warned of heavy congestion on “free” M6. Called in to see Andrew in hospital and found him much improved, quite coherent, able to engage in conversation and even inquire about David and what we had been doing. Arranged to send him a diary, because his memory is so poor that he likes to write everything down. Also arranged to see him on his birthday and take him out for a meal.

Continued onwards, with traffic still heavy but moving steadily. Stopped at Thrapston for a meal, then continued across the Fens. Traffic almost at a standstill around Huntingdon: discovered afterwards that much of it was probably generated by the Secret Garden Party, a music and arts festival that was so secret I had never heard of it. Rather irritating, but we discovered from radio traffic bulletins that the alternative route along the A14 was even worse. After that things improved a little, and we reached home just after 7pm, having set out at 10.15 from Llanberis (after dropping key off). Collapsed on sofa to watch Tour de France.

The rest of the weekend was the usual holiday recovery schedule, with some additions. I bought Andrew a diary and posted it to him, and Dot went out for a meal in the evening with Anne for Charlotte’s hen party at Pinocchio’s, which apparently set new records for slow service. Dot had a main course of fish and a piece of cake to follow. This lasted from 7.30pm until around 11pm, though I guess it wasn’t entirely the restaurant’s fault. You know what these hen parties are like. Dot got home just before midnight, and we forced Anne to watch our holiday pictures on Apple TV.

On Sunday we had a really good morning service, led by Howard with a brilliant sermon by Mark Tuma on prayer – why the disciples asked to be taught how to pray, and why Jesus told them (what it meant). Thought it was just right for us. We had arrived feeling a bit low, especially after discovering that it was no longer possible to park on Sussex Street, and felt really encouraged by the whole thing. Gave Harriet a lift home, then watched the German Grand Prix – blatant rule-breaking by Ferrari went unpunished, predictably – then went to see Phil and Joy and thank them for looking after the house while we were away.

Our Welsh holiday featured heavy amounts of rain, while our home county was mainly dry and sometimes very warm. Still, we had a good time. Obviously I kept a diary, and it goes something like this:

Friday 9 July

Started out from Norwich in very warm weather – high 20s – having to circumnavigate the men who had at last arrived to mend the potholes in our road. Ended at Llanberis around 18C, with pouring rain and low cloud. We’d taken the back road round the Berwyn and were balked constantly by slow drivers, so I was rather stressed by the time we met Adrian at Cerrigydrudion for a brief chat by the side of the road. Did a little shopping in Llanberis before meeting Ian Torr, the owner, at the house, situated high above the village and on the Llanberis path to Snowdon. Amazing position; amazing house, even in the rain. It would be hard to beat the view from the lounge or our bedroom.

snowdon train
The train to the summit of Snowdon could be seen and heard from our house every half hour

Saturday 10 July

Continuing rain, sweeping down the hillside, but quite warm. Got up late and drove into town to do extensive food shopping. David and the children arrived just after 2pm. After lunch the rain paused for a while, and we went for a walk up the road. Later Oliver, Dot and I went into Llanberis again to get additional shopping. The gate to the property has to be padlocked shut because, amazingly, people have parked in the drive and walked up the mountain. So we are told. Watched third place match in World Cup: Uruguay 2 Germany 3.

Sunday 11 July

Dry and quite warm. Eventually walked down into village and after dithering around went to the Electric Mountain centre, where we had a very pleasant sandwich and took the tour into the caverns under Elidir mountain to see the huge machinery involved in electricity generation (pump storage system). Most impressive. At home, watched the Tour de France – stage won by Andy Schleck. Then I wandered out for a reconnaisance walk on the hill. On the way back met David and showed him where I’d been. Walked about six miles today. Had supper, watched some of the British Grand Prix, then the World Cup Final, which was predictably unexciting. Spain won 1-0 in extra time, shortly after Oliver retired exhausted to bed.

Oliver on hill
Oliver reaches the summit of his first hill in Wales

Monday 12 July

I am 65. Quite warm weather, pleasant for walking. After opening my presents, we all walked across towards Moel Cynghorion, and Oliver and I climbed Tyrn yr Aelgerth, 409m high. Came down by quite a hard route, and Oliver was excellent. We walked about four miles altogether. In the evening we had a birthday meal at the Lake Padern Hotel: steak followed by raspberry pavlova. Delicious.

four on a boat
A boat ride on Llyn Padarn, looking back up the Llanberis Pass.

Tuesday 13 July

Started fine and dry, but rain came later. Dot and I took washing to the launderette and picked it up about 4pm (free to us because the launderette owner also owns our house). Also bought food, then all went to Padarn Country Park, starting with a 45-minute boat ride, continuing with a sandwich at the café, then walking up to the Quarry Hospital (dodging the school parties) before ending at the Slate Museum, by which time it was raining steadily. Excellent demonstration of slate cutting, with lots of humour. Then into town, bought poles for Amy and Oliver at outdoor shop, plus map and walks book. Home for fish and chips. David walked home from town, as he did several times.

floating restaurant
The floating restaurant, just behind Caernarfon Castle, selected by Oliver for our lunch. Good, too. Oliver and Dot in foreground, Amy and David making slower progress.

Wednesday 14 July

Quite a lot of rain, especially on the way to Caernarfon, where we parked on the quay, the rain stopped and we visited the castle, which is impressive. David and Amy did their own thing on the battlements for a while, but we eventually met up and had a surprisingly good lunch on the floating restaurant, next to the swing bridge. Then drove back through more heavy rain, stopping in village for brief shopping. Later walked some of way up Llanberis path but turned back as grey clouds hastened towards us. Just got home in time. Earlier in day Oliver and I visited the tea room to check on the weather forecast and were shown round the old cottage in which it is based. Oliver beat me at Mah Jong.

Thursday 15 July

Overcast, but rain held off till late afternoon. Went into town, bought monocular for Oliver, and Dot fell over spectacularly but not seriously. Walked up to waterfall, and David and Amy walked home from there while Oliver, Dot and I went back to the High Street for the car. Home for lunch, then to Dolbardon Castle ruins and a walk across the lake meadow. In the evening heavy rain and very high winds, which got worse about 1am. Boiler very smokey: moved Oliver into David’s room. Stormy night.

twisters
Amy and Oliver refresh themselves with Twisters after an exhausting session on the beach at Dinas Dillwe

Friday 16 July

Grey and wet start, though wind died down quite quickly. Drove to beach at Dinas Dinlle, recommended by Steffan at tea room. Sort of Welsh Walcott. Kids had great time on beach, getting themselves wet, and eventually we climbed the hill fort, which is 3000 years old and almost as much fun as the play area below it. Turned chillier as kids played there, and we drove home for fish and chips, with something different for Amy, of course.

conqueror
Oliver after his conquest of Snowdon

Saturday 17 July

The big day. Started rainy, but improved as forecast. Ian came up to check the boiler. David, Oliver and I climbed Snowdon by Llanberis path. Oliver did really well: I had to stop more often than him on steep sections in second half. Eventually made it to the restaurant about a quarter of an hour before Dot and Amy arrived by train. Very cold on top, with a strong wind. Terrific achievement by Oliver, who showed real determination in the unpleasant conditions near the summit. Thousands of people in and around the restaurant,  but Dot got us tea eventually, and we all visited the very top. Then we all walked down. Very cold at first, with some sharp rain for a few minutes, but rest of day was dry. Amy did well, and Oliver even better. Dot had knee trouble towards the bottom, as did David, and my ankle felt fragile, but it held out apart from a couple of twinges. All made it back by 6.40pm. David, Oliver and I had started at 11.05am, and Dot and Amy got the 1.30pm train. My pedometer gave ten miles total, but David’s iPhone GPS gave 8.6 miles, which is probably more accurate. Took almost as long to get down as it did to get up. All exhausted, but kids recovered quickly – Halfway House café stop on the way back being a big help. All early to bed. Ian had brought our washing back and left it inside.

mine
Amy, David, Oliver and Dot in the Llechwed slate mine

Sunday 18 July

Very wet all day. Capel Curig had more rain than anywhere else in the UK, plus flood warnings. Water pouring off mountains as we drove to Llechwed slate caverns at Blaenau Ffestiniog in the afternoon. Bought petrol in Betws-y-Coed. Took Miners Tramway tour, and Oliver and Amy bought some slate, plus some sweets from olde shoppe. Drove home via Beddgelert and the Nant Gwynant pass. Watched The Damned United on TV, plus documentary on Clough. Both unexpectedly good.

Monday 19 July

Very wet again. Don’t know where it all comes from. A bit drier in Corwen. Had lunch with Adrian and Clarissa after a lightning drive to The Plough Inn at Llandegla, an excellent and friendly pub restaurant. On way back called in to see Julia and Glaves, Nathan, Nigel and Rona at Tynddol. Rain descended again in force as we drove home.

Tuesday 20 July

Showery. David and children left at 11.30 after a cooked breakfast. Made good time and were home by 4.30pm. Meanwhile Dot and I went down to Llanberis and swapped Oliver’s walking pole for a new one. Dot bought walking boots and socks, and I bought a fleecy top. Had tea and scones in café and then drove up into hills, where we got a good picture of Snowdon, temporarily cloud-free. Bought food and went home. More extensive rain in the evening, but a spectacular sky.

adrian and clarissa
Adrian, Clarissa and Dot on the mountain near our house

Wednesday 21 July

Quite a lot of sunshine, with spots of rain now and again. Adrian and Clarissa came over for lunch – an hour later than expected because their satnav dumped them in Beddgelert, where they had no phone signal. Eventually reached Llanberis after consulting tourist office there (more helpful when he switched to Welsh) and phoned us from Llanberis. I’d been waiting in the lane on and off for about an hour after an early foray into town to post cards and dispose of bottles. After lunch on the balcony we walked on the path over the railway to the stream and back, and had tea, coffee and Welsh bread at tea room. Steffan and Adrian got on very well in Welsh. Stayed at the house after A & C left and eventually watched The Unforgiven. I’d seen it before, but forgotten most of it, especially what a good argument it is for forgiveness.

Llyn Idwal path
Dot on the high path round Llyn Idwal

Thursday 22 July

Familiar low cloud and persistent rain at first. We went into Llanberis to drop off washing and have a cup of tea at very Welsh café on High Street, Back to house as sky cleared: encountered workmen making sure the road was clear of hidden dangers for Snowdon runners on the Saturday. Drove over mountain to Bethesda, then Llyn Ogwen, where we walked up to Llyn Idwal and decided to walk round the lake after speaking to a girl who’d just done it in “about 40 minutes”. Climbed up quite a way at the head of the lake but were unsure of the path and a bit hesitant to go on, partly because my footwear wasn’t the best (hadn’t been expecting a climb of any sort). So we retraced our steps, then found the short-cut path round the head of the lake: soggy but passable. So completed the circuit and probably did about three miles, though I forgot to take my pedometer. Small amount of rain as we started, but otherwise fine and not cold. Cup of tea on return to the car park at Ogwen Cottage, then back home for meal. Evening sunny and warm, with good weather due after we leave.

Noise outside

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Long DCC meeting last night, with much discussion about possible changes to the morning service at St Augustine’s. In the end we decided to set up a smaller group to look at the liturgy and other issues, and another couple of people will be looking at the signage to the hall, which can be hard to find if you’re not looking in the right place – as with so much else. Last night woken two or three times by loud discussions outside, and this morning, as we prepare to leave for Wales, the city council contractors turned up to mend the road. Not that it doesn’t need mending, but isn’t their timing wonderful? No warning, of course. Just hope we can get out. Feeling very tired.

Baguettes, potatoes and sunglasses

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House at Lamole
The house we stayed in at Lamole, near Greve in Chianti. You can see only two of the three storeys.

An odd week. Dot has been very busy: on Monday she did a church school inspection at Ellingham, on Tuesday she wrote the report, and yesterday she started off at Hapton School, moved to the Bird in Hand at Wreningham for a swift baguette and drink with me, then on to the Diocesan Office for a 2pm meeting, followed by a visit to Catfield School and collapsing on the sofa at home. I have been making vague preparations for our Welsh holiday, cooking some jacket potatoes for the Tuesday Group and buying some new sunglasses. Not simultaneously. I also seem to have fitted in arranging for a new church service leader to take over on August 1, when everyone else is away, writing a new poem and keeping various websites up to date, as well as writing a chess article for En Passant, the Norfolk chess magazine.

Today we had the first rain for some time, occurring roughly ten seconds after Dot and I started doing a bit of gardening to put something in our hungry brown bin. It didn’t last, though, and tonight it’s warm again. I’ve checked the car over and bought some new sunglasses (early birthday present). Spoke to Pieter at The Langleys today, and he’s very concerned about Andrew’s condition in hospital: apparently he’s sedated and hardly makes any response at all. He’s going to keep an eye on him, but I hope we’ll be able to call  in on our way back from Wales.

Changing and staying the same

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Dot
Dot sunning herself on the balcony outside our room at the Manor Hotel, Blakeney, not long ago

Spent a warm and sunny day at Mangreen Hall on Sunday. More than 30 of us from the church made it, which makes you wonder why our average congregation is about 14. We were discussing how to change our Sunday service – if at all. Being radical and notoriously keen on change, I proposed that we stay the same, with a few amendments. Others went for moving it to the evening or making the liturgy more traditional, which is a bit odd, since we have traditional liturgy already, including a bit of Celtic and a bit of translation from the Aramaic. Anyway, it will all be discussed on Thursday at the DCC. Fortunately (or unfortunately) we shall be leaving for Wales the next day for our holiday with David and the grandchildren. Will we recognise the church on our return?

In the afternoon we had a kind of service at which several of us contributed songs, poems or readings. I sang Man in the Mask, which I wrote some years ago and lost the music  to. Happily I came up with another tune a few days ago, and it seemed to work quite well. It’s a song I’ve always been pleased with, and it was nice to give it an airing. I also read one of my poems – This is not home. Ruth sang a beautiful Shaker song, and some of the children read.

Today it was very slightly cooler, though not much. Dot was doing a church school inspection at Ellingham, so I decided to embark on some multi-tasking. I started by walking to St Augustine’s to take back the music stand we’d borrowed for Sunday, together with one of the hymn books. Shortly before I arrived a bumped into Anne, who seemed a little less than her usual sunny self. I’m a little worried about her. Then when I reached the church I coincided with Vicky, who was picking up collection money to bank it and had lost her key. I was able to give her mine, as I have a spare. We walked back to Magdalen Street together; she had a bright Amy with her.

From Magdalen Street I got a bus to Costessey. At least, I meant to. In fact I got on the wrong one and almost got locked into a bus on St Stephens. I transferred quickly to Theatre Street on this being pointed out, and caught a number 16 (and not 26) to the Bowthorpe roundabout, from where I walked up to Costessey Junior School and returned a “Visitor” tag that I had walked off with some months ago. It may take me a bit of time, but I eventually get round to returning things… Took the bus back into the city, called in at WHS for a refill for my Parker ballpen, and walked home, calling in at Budgens for bread and fruit on the way. Nearly four miles altogether. Quite tired after early rising.

Sledgehammer to crack an opera

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That sinking feeling at Brancaster Staithe

Just stopped watching Wimbledon because it look as if Serena Williams is going to win easily (she did), which is about as boring as you can get. The Nadal-Murray match was something else. Nadal played probably the best tennis I’ve ever seen, and still Murray was an ace away from winning the second set. No shame in losing that one.

It’s been a warm week. The MX5 went in for a service and MOT, and one day stretched into three, because (a) the MOT centre’s computer went down, (b) the car failed on tyre tread that the garage had thought OK and (c) new tyres had to be obtained. So not a cheap day out by any means.

On Wednesday we had Heather, Sam and Simon round for an evening meal which I turned out to be cooking because there was some compelling tennis on TV and the house also needed cleaning. Chicken turned out to be good and we had a very pleasant evening. HSS brought some prosecco to celebrate the publication of Heather’s textbook, and Sam is recovering well from his atypical pneumonia which apparently only one in a million people get. He had a hard time with it.

On Thursday a triple whammy, starting with lunch with Aunt Josephine, Kathleen, Paul, Phil and Joy at the Oaklands Hotel carvery. Good food and an intriguing discussion afterwards about what churches should be doing nowadays. A surprising amount of agreement, considering our backgrounds and the distance we’ve moved. Later in the day Linda came round to cut out hair, and then we went to a PCC meeting at the vicarage. Again, a convivial atmosphere and general agreement. Nice when that happens.

Yesterday Dot went to Dickleburgh school, and I met InPrint poet Lisa D’Onofrio in the city for coffee at Jarrolds. She’s in England for a couple of weeks before returning to Australia, where her mum is very ill, and where she is now living at Castlemaine, north of Melbourne. She is the international arm of InPrint!

In the evening Dot and I went to the Claxton Opera, an annual event which takes place in a theatre in someone’s house. It holds just over 100 spectators and is a remarkable feat of engineering. Our friend Ruth is their leading soprano, and she had the main role in Le Pauvre Matelot, which someone had unfortunately translated into English, thus exposing the poor libretto and plot for all to see. Ruth was superb, but the rest of it was pretty terrible, and Richard White (the owner and impresario) should have been glad the Press failed to turn up. The second half of the programme, Trial by Jury, was wonderfully performed, but of course Gilbert and Sullivan is wonderful to start with, and Le Pauvre Matelot emphatically isn’t. Towards the end the wife kills the sailor with a sledgehammer, which was the only good idea in it. To get to the house/theatre, up a narrow lane, you have to park at a farm on the “main” road and are then transported by bus.

Today we stirred ourselves early and went to North Walsham, taking flowers to the cemetery and dropping in on Jessie, who we transported to Wroxham, enabling Dot to see Frank. I went for a short walk while this happened, and on the way home we called at The Rosary and put flowers on my parents’ grave.

Walking from the Ship

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three walkers
Dave, Julia and Dot look back towards the sea during our walk near Brancaster

Very warm and quite busy few days, especially for Dot, who has completed a church school inspection at East Rudham, looked round a vicar’s garden at West Raynham and actually completed the report in time for us to leave for Blakeney early on Friday afternoon. This was for our annual reunion session with the Evetts and with Alan and Rosemary – the remaining six of an initial 13 of us, back at the turn of the century. It turned out to be probably the best weather so far, if measured in terms of heat. Shortly after our arrival we went for a walk along the river, but soon headed back to the Blakeney Hotel for our traditional tea and scones in the upstairs lounge, with a nice view across the estuary. We were in fact staying at the Manor Hotel as usual, which is about half as expensive and much more than half as good. Our room had been refurbished, and the food was of  a pretty high standard as always. I had a lamb shank on the first night (Murray, eat your heart out) and a sirloin steak on the second.

On the Saturday Dave, Julia, Dot and I drove to Brancaster Ship Hotel, which has been beautifully refurbished. We had tea and coffee there before heading out on our walk, which I took from Ralph (Will) Martin’s Pub Strolls book. He suggested it was 3½ miles, but this is a typical RM underestimate: we measured 4½, and we missed out a short section at the beginning. True, we did walk round an additional field, but it certainly wasn’t a mile in circumference. We were trying to find Branodunum, the Roman settlement, at the time, but it appears to be invisible (if that’s not an oxymoron). On the plus side, it was an excellent walk, though we were pretty warm by the time we got back to the Ship for our Light Bite lunch, which was exotic and delicious. I had a fried duck egg with some shrimps and mustard. We called in at Big Blue Sky on the way back and discovered they had sold four of the ten poetry books of mine they bought a couple of years ago. Yippee!

On the Sunday we went to Cookie’s for lunch, but not before Dot and I had taken another stroll by the river and called in on Godfrey Sayers, a rather good landscape artist who has a regular caravan display slot on the carnser. He used to be fan of my EDP column (no accounting for taste) and we had been corresponding by e-mail recently. Dot introduced me to him, and we had a pleasant chat. At Cookie’s I nearly took Julia’s leg off when I drove off while she was still getting out of the car, but she not only survived but stopped the door hitting anything too. What a hero! Yes, very clumsy on my part: I thought I’d heard three doors slam, but clearly I hadn’t.

We drove the Evetts back to their car at the Manor Hotel, and this time let them get out completely before driving off back to Norwich, in plenty of time for the World Cup match between a team purporting to represent England and what my late mother-in-law would have called “some foreign team”. Yes, it was England v Germany again, and I have rarely seen England play so badly. Whatever you say about the manager or the system, you have to question why the players can’t keep the ball, can’t ever beat an opposition player, can’t tackle and can’t shoot. In the end I was hoping Germany would win 6-1. They only managed four, and admittedly England were laughably deprived of a goal because the referee and linesman didn’t notice the ball was about a metre over the line (that is not hyperbole). But then again in the next match Mexico laughably conceded a goal against Argentina which was so obviously offside that you wondered if the officials were at the same game. That’s sport for you. The good thing about the English result was that the fans could not even be outraged, we were so bad.

The Italian job, part three

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Trio on balcony
Roger, Dot and Barbara on the balcony of our Lamole villa

At about 10.45 on Saturday the 12th we took a water taxi to Florence station. My fears that we were cutting it a bit fine were unfounded, and we caught the 11.27 to Florence with no trouble. It was a delightful journey in first class, with free refreshments, and we got to Florence around 1pm. It took us a while to get our bearings, but we eventually found our car rental firm which, in usual Italian fashion, managed to take 90 minutes-plus to find us a car that been ordered and paid for in advance. A very warm wait, but at least they gave us directions, and we found ourselves on the right road out of the city fairly quickly. We stopped in Greve in Chianti for supplies and reached our delightful villa at Lamole, up in the hills, shortly after 5pm, to be greeted by a lovely Italian woman called Yolande, who turned out to be Polish.

On Sunday the warmth remained, but it was a little overcast. We eventually drove to Greve, and after a little shopping walked to Montefioralle, a little walled town allegedly 20 minutes walk uphill. In fact about three-quarters of an hour. Another example of Italian time. Had lunch at restaurant there – in my case an excellent veal steak. Returned to Lamole, bought a few more provisions and an ice cream, for which the Italians are justly famous. In the evening a brief splash of rain was a portent of things to come.

However, it was dry, sunny and warm on Monday, when we left at 9am for San Galgano, south-west of Siena, a picturesque roofless abbey with a chapel on a nearby hill. The chapel contains a sword plunged into a rock, which allegedly happened in the 12th century when SG himself gave up a life of fighting and turned to more spiritual matters. Sort of King Arthur in reverse. I had taken my sole driving slot on the way there, but now Roger took the helm as we headed for Siena, where we had without doubt the best meal of the holiday in a restaurant called Osteria Da Divo, on the Via Franciosa. Totally wonderful, and within a stone’s throw of the Duomo, which was impressive. We climbed up some kind of building adjoining a museum and got a good view of the town, which is stunning. Also visited Santa Maria della Scala, a church which has become an art gallery. Dot bought some stamps, and we located the other must-see in Siena, which is the Piazza del Campo, a huge shell-shaped open space occasionally used for horse-racing. By this time I was exhausted, but we circumnavigated the Piazza and then set a course back to the car park. Back at the house, we watched a DVD of Where Angels Fear to Tread, which is a truly dreadful film. Equally dreadful was the realisation that the satellite television promised did not include a subscription to World Cup channels. As things turned out, this was not quite so dreadful as it first seemed. England 1 USA 1; England 0 Algeria 0.

Unsurprisingly, we woke late on the Tuesday, and it was raining. OK, the rain was surprising, but the late start wasn’t. We spent an enjoyable hour or two later in Panzano, a charming nearby town that you could almost see from our house, but not quite. The weather improved, and we walked around the old part of the town before happening on the Academy of Good Taste, run by an eccentric guy who span a bewildering yarn, spoke good English and eventually sold us a small bottle of fierce liqueur made from figs. I think. We eventually left it with Yolande. We then encountered the town’s other character, a famous butcher called Dario Cecchini. His shop is a mite unusual (for a butcher) in that when you enter you are given a glass of wine and urged to sample such wares as pork dripping and olive oil on bread. A larger than life character, he didn’t seem all that worried about selling anything, though we eventually bought some cold cooked pork. The Murrays were delighted to find that one of his assistants came from Toronto. On arriving home Dot and I made our first and only venture into the swimming pool. In the evening we went to the village restaurant, which serves good food and is extremely friendly. You get free limoncello afterwards, and the bottle is left for you to help yourself. Unhappily, you can only drink a certain amount of limoncello, a fact I guess they’re well aware of.

Just finished the wonderful A Month in the Country by J L Carr and have started a book I found in the house – The Great Lover, by Jill Dawson, who I shared an office with at the UEA a few years ago. She is an excellent writer.

Lamole artists
A couple of artists well placed just off the Lamole road

Fairly quiet day on the Wednesday, with quite a bit of rain. I walked the Lamole loop (1.75 miles) and we drove into Greve and walked around, sometimes together and sometimes alone. Dot bought a bracelet. The shop-owner left us alone in the shop with countless precious items while she went to fetch the bracelet from another shop. Very trusting – quite common among Italian shopkeepers. In the evening we watched Mona Lisa, which I suppose can best be described as gritty.

We had refrained from going to San Gimignano on Wednesday because of the occasional rain, but we set off optimistically on the Thursday in bright weather. By the time we reached San Gimignano, however, dark clouds threatened. We had time to walk up to the centre of the town (after a brief bus shuttle ride) and climb the famous tower before it started raining hard. We dashed across into the church during what was almost a lull, and afterwards purchased an umbrella. While we sat under awnings for a snack, not far from a Meg Ryan lookalike, the heavens opened, and we all began to feel chilly. Not much we could do about that except eat, which seemed to work up to a point. The rain did ease off after a while, and we resumed our tour of the town, including a visit to a very impressive art gallery. This was my sort of town, and it was a pity about the weather. It poured again before we got back to the car, and even Roger had to buy an umbrella.

The only downside of San Gimignano is Poggibonsi, which you have to go through to get there. This is a nondescript town containing a jumbled mass of roads with no logic to them. On the way back I tried to avoid them but ended up on a narrow road up into the mountains. On the plus side we got a good view of San Gimignano, but we did have to go back and through Poggibonsi in the end. As we drove home the weather improved, but I began to feel quite ill: in fact I hadn’t been feeling particularly well all day. On arriving home I took antibiotics and stayed home while the others went to Lamole restaurant again.

Friday was sunny and quite warm again, but with a persistent wind. Barbara and Roger went off to visit another walled town, but Dot and I decided to stay at the house. We spent a lot of time reading (I finished The Great Lover, read a small book on Healing by Francis McNutt and started The Rough Guide to Bob Dylan, which contains lots of unusual information as well as the most literals I’ve ever seen in any book), then walked up to Lamole restaurant for a very slow lunch containing a delicious antipasti. Afterwards we walked up the hill a little way before returning to the house. B & R eventually made it home about 7.30pm, which is suspiciously late, but they said they didn’t get lost and had in fact found the best hill town in the world, or at least in Italy. We all had a late tea, packed and prepared for the return home.

The Italian job, parts one and two

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gondoliers
Gondoliers wait with offers for unsuspecting passers-by: view from our Venice hotel window

We are well and truly back from Italy. Arrived on Saturday night to a brisk gale that made the low temperature seem even lower, and plenty of rain too. Yes, it was an English midsummer. The journey had not been the smoothest. We left our rented villa at Lamole, in Chianti, about 9.45am (8.45 UK time), and arrived back in Norwich shortly before 9.30pm, so the whole journey took more than 12 hours. We have done Toronto-Norwich more quickly.

After a smart piece of navigation we managed to enter Florence on the right side (or left, going up), and although we went slightly astray, we ended up pretty soon at the car rental place. It was raining, and the usual suspects were all selling umbrellas instead of handbags. We dragged our luggage to the station, where we dithered about what to do. It soon transpired there was nothing worth doing because the station was overcrowded and underprovided, and so we thought we might as well get to the airport while Roger and Barbara waited for the Rome train. We got a taxi to the airport, where we arrived around noon. This in itself was a bit of a relief, as the usual Italian penchant for sloppy naming and signposting meant that I had thought there were two airports when there was only one. If you’re going to Florence, don’t be confused. Florence Airport, Amerigo Vespucci, Peretola or indeed Aeroporto di Firenze are all the same thing. Only one of them is a translation of another. No prizes. This did not increase my love of Florence, which was pretty low anyway following a 90-minute wait for our rental car when we arrived the previous Saturday.

At the airport we faced a two-hour wait before we could even check in. The Italians had apparently thought this could never happen, because there were practically no facilities until you had checked in – not even seats. We did eventually locate one row of seats upstairs and grabbed two, plus a bite to eat at the very small cafe. Just after 2pm I thought I would see if we could check in and found that we could. I also found that our flight had been delayed for nearly three hours because the aircraft would not get there until then. This is an example of what has been described as Italian time. It bears almost no relation to any other time. We attempted to check in anyway, but were told that we had to go the ticket office because we would miss our connection. This meant another queue, but with an unexpected bonus at the end. The excellent ticket office guy found a way to get us to Amsterdam in time.

We had to board a flight to Paris almost immediately (sitting separately), then at Charles de Gaulle airport find a new terminal for the flight to Amsterdam. All airports contrive to make transfers ridiculously difficult with poor signposting and the pointless requirement to go through security again, but we eventually made it to the boarding gate, and Dot was delighted because our names were called. We had to show them our paperwork from Florence. At this point Dot began to get very impressed. This time we did sit together – the plane was not full – but further concern materialised because the flight left nearly half an hour late. Somehow it caught up, and we were only about ten minutes late when we arrived at an almost deserted Schiphol. Again difficult to find where to go, but we asked a customs official and eventually found the KLM desk, who were extremely helpful, and we reached the boarding gate with enough time for Dot to buy a coffee, but not to drink it. This time the plane was more than half empty, and we again had a row of three seats to ourselves. Sheer joy. What could go wrong now?  Nothing. Phil, alerted by my phone call, picked us up and transported us home, and we were so tired, we didn’t unpack at all. I trotted down to Budgens to get bread and milk, passing through the nightclub girls shivering in their all-season miniskirts, and after a fried egg or two I went to bed. So did Dot, but without the eggs.

Ca d'Oro
The usual suspects inside the Ca d'Oro, beside the Grand Canal in Venice

Having failed completely to narrate clearly and chronologically, I guess I should return to the beginning, but in rather less detail. We left home by taxi at 8.20am on the 10th and had no trouble reaching Amsterdam via Norwich Airport, putting our watches an hour forward in the process. Found a delightful Cafe Chocolat at Schiphol and indulged a little, then took off for Venice at 3pm. Barb had recklessly booked a restaurant for 7pm, so we were under pressure after landing at 5pm. If I’d known how far the airport was from our hotel, I would have been even more worried. Our bags took a while; when they arrived we braved the heat to walk to the Alligula boats about 500-600 yards away. Fortunately we made the right choice, taking the more expensive (£25 each) fast gold boat which gave us time to reach our hotel – following a pretty tricky piece of map-reading – by about 6.30pm. This gave us just about time to get to the restaurant (after a rendezvous with the Murrays), and the meal was excellent – probably the second-best of the entire trip, but very expensive, as are most things in Venice. Afterwards we took a circuitous route home via the waterfront.

The next day was epic. According to my pedometer, which is pretty accurate, we walked over ten miles, covering some key sites in Venice, including the Ca d’Oro, the Rialto Bridge, the Accademia Bridge and St Mark’s Square, as well as numerous lesser known alleys and open spaces. Venice was not really as I expected: a real warren of streets and narrow canals. At one point we got separated. I was a few steps ahead, looked round, and the other three had vanished. I waited and nothing happened. I went back to where I had last seen them (only a few steps): nothing. I waited again, then was forced to assume they had taken an alternative route. Fortunately I had a map and knew where we were going: the Accademia Bridge. So I went there and waited – for over half an hour. Eventually, as I was trying to get through on the mobile, they turned up. Apparently they had paused to look in a shop window, then bizarrely crossed the Rialto bridge instead of of going straight past it to where I was waiting. Then they waited on the wrong side of the river. Once Roger twigged they were on the wrong side of the river, Dot persuaded them to head for the Accademia Bridge, because she knew what I’d do. With the help of a Venetian lady who spoke no English, they eventually made it.

I got to know the Accademia Bridge quite well, and after lunch nearby we booked for a concert in the evening, in a church right by the bridge. We then went back to our hotel, which was a delightful building with very pleasant staff. It was called the Liassidi Palace Hotel, and it would have been perfect, except that the air conditioning in our room wasn’t working, and then one of the strip lights started flickering and making a noise, even when it was turned off. The staff did their best to sort this, but it wasn’t ideal, though we slept better the second night.

But we are not up to the second night yet. After a rest in the hotel we went on another walk organised by Barbara, ending with an elaborate ice cream each. Then back to the hotel for a Bellini, followed by a return to the church (San Vitale) near the Accademia Bridge for the concert, by the all-male Interpreti Veneziani, a brilliant string group (about ten of them) who majored on Vivaldi but did a superb version of Bartok’s Danze Rumene. Really compelling stuff. And still the day wasn’t over: our way back went through St Mark’s Square, which was flooded! We could have taken our shoes off, but Dot had a bad blister which had burst, and I didn’t want to risk it, so we looked for another way, which was surprisingly difficult to find. It was literally like a maze, with many dead ends, but we eventually got to an area we knew and reached the hotel safely just after 11pm.

Wasting police time

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Oliver and Nana
Oliver and Nana in close conversation at Caddington

The day is almost upon us. Dot has disappeared into the city for what I thought was a short visit. Apparently not. It’s quite warm today, and after a lot more rain yesterday, it’s been dry so far. I have just finished my packing, though I expect much of it will be repacked or rearranged by Dot. My packing standards are not very high. Ed came round earlier to transfer some wedding photos on to an external hard drive, which seemed to work, though there was a bit of a problem with opening some files.

Dot is back now after purchasing a new handbag (very nice) and some make-up. Yesterday I went to Sutton School to retrieve a bag she’d left there. Pleasant enough drive until I got back to Norwich, when it started raining very hard. Hard to avoid heavy drops when I picked up my jacket from the cleaners. In the evening Dot stayed at home to entertain Anne, and I took two very heavy people to a Tuesday Group meeting at the Archers’. Lovely meal by Bridget.

After dropping my passengers off on the way home I had what must be considered a fortunate escape on the Anglia Square flyover. I was held up by another car and as we came over the top I saw police ahead, one of whom had a radar gun. While relieved, I find the whole situation really annoying. This was a dual carriageway flyover, not accessible to pedestrians, late evening, no-one around, and a limit of 30mph. So no safety element: just money-making – assuming they were fining people. If not, or even if they were, they should be doing themselves for wasting police time.

Had fish and chips for lunch. While I was waiting for the plaice to be cooked, a guy who was delivering to the shop asked me if I was still playing chess. Apparently he had been a member of the Sprowston High team under the tutorship of Graham Wright some 30 years ago. And he remembered my name! I must not be ageing too badly.

Checked in for our flight early this morning. It only remains now to book the taxi and get to the airport on time tomorrow morning. What can possibly go wrong? Don’t know, but somehow I always think something will. Flying in the face of reason, I think they call it.

Jazz and fruit

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Oliver, Amy, dinosaurs
Oliver about to lose his head in the Dinosaur Park while Amy looks on, slightly concerned

A bit cooler the last two days, with some quite heavy rain yesterday. Dull today, with a slight threat of rain, but nothing has materialised yet. I went into the city this morning to get some euros, having found 100 of them in my reserve currency position. Also bought a new battery for my Panasonic camera: oddly the Panasonic shop didn’t have one (despite knowing they were out and ordering one only for a previous customer), but the Norwich Camera Exchange did. A shop to be recommended. After purchasing the euros went to St Margaret’s again, this time for an art exhibition in which my cousin’s son Lewis (“Kitsune”) featured. Imaginative paintings of a surreal nature which were as good as almost anything else there.

This afternoon checked over my Italy file, revealing that our flight on Thursday is at 10.35am. Also discovered that our return airport, Florence, is also very small, which is encouraging. I don’t mind small airports, though I’d prefer it if they weren’t Italian. Being in Italy, though, I suppose the odds were that it would be Italian. Everything seems in order, and I will be checking in online early on Wednesday.

Yesterday Nicholas was leading Communion and remarked on the poor state of the hall, which is true enough. Someone has spilt an awful lot of wax on the carpet and made it worse by trying to clear it up using the wrong materials. The stool was badly marked, the altar table that Dot and I bought has been extensively scratched, and the loo seat has needed replacing for three weeks. Apparently it has been hard to find the right fittings. Rather depressing. When Rosemary was in charge, such things would have been dealt with so effectively that we wouldn’t have known they’d happened. Nicholas is a bit worried because the Bishop is visiting next Sunday, and by coincidence, most of the key members of the congregation are going to be away. Ho hum. No, it really is a coincidence. People are so busy.

In the evening Dot and I went to an Ambient Wonder event held upstairs because the downstairs was booked by someone else, who didn’t turn up. Good session, though, with mint julep by Anna. Jazz and the fruits of the Spirit. You have to think about that quite a lot. Former music group member Elspeth made a brief appearance before deciding it wasn’t for her. Cast of about 12, with two Germans. Friends of the Archers.