Our optimism was ill-founded. I was feeling so ill by Saturday evening that I couldn’t join David, Chrissy and Dot for dinner at The Dining Rooms. Dot herself had been bad but was improving a bit by then and was able to have a good time with them. I managed Sunday lunch at home with them before taking to my bed again.
All very disappointing, but it was lovely to see them both happy despite the unhealthy atmosphere (David himself wasn’t too well, having caught something off the children), and it was great that they could come.
On the Friday I had had to cancel my intended visit to the launch of Godfrey Sayers’ book in Holt, and on Sunday I didn’t make church, of course. On the Monday I missed the PCC, as did Howard, who also had some kind of virus. There’s a lot of it about. Dot heroically attended as St Augustine’s sole representative.
This was a full-blown case of the kind of upper respiratory tract infection that I used to get routinely when I was younger – debilitating in the sense that you can’t do anything involving your head for more than a minute or two: talking to people, reading, watching TV and so on. I haven’t had it like this for years, I don’t think, and hoped I’d grown out of it, as I seem to have more or less grown out of hay fever.
Dot wasn’t feeling at all well either for some days: she gets a lot of catarrh and sneezing, but not quite the acute facial discomfort, I don’t think. Perhaps she’s just more resilient, or more determined. But I don’t think so, obviously.
She was out in the city yesterday, and has been to have lunch with Carrie today. I managed to get up to the Rosary, where there was brief bit of weak sunshine, but I still feel very tired and clogged up. The hounds of spring are on winter’s traces, but let it pass. (You have to be a big James Thurber fan to get that one. Unless you happen to click here.)
I should have mentioned that Phil popped round last Friday afternoon for a cup of tea, despite my virus warning. He declined a lift home.
Phil’s birthday, and winter has come back in. Very cold wind today as I walked up to the sorting office, only to discover they were tarmac-ing the drive. Very nice woman said it would all be done in half an hour. Dot is in the garden, despite being under the weather since having a facial: she believes it affected her sinuses. Lot of sneezing. I am in more or less the same state but didn’t have a facial, so don’t know what to blame. We are both optimistic for a quick recovery.
It being Phil’s birthday means that it’s the anniversary of both my parents’ deaths – my mother yesterday and my father tomorrow. And it’s Mother’s Day on Sunday; so more than one reason to take some flowers up to the Rosary. I shall do that. Oh yes I will.
Last Saturday we had a “light” supper at the Hendersons’. This consisted of a starter, a roast and a sweet; so we should be grateful it wasn’t a heavy supper. Very pleasant evening, especially as Norwich City had won again.
On Sunday I preached at St Luke’s, with Karen Wimhurst leading and Steve F on sound. Interesting. The sermon went quite well, and afterwards I popped down to St Aug’s for another cup of tea. In the afternoon I walked up to St Peter Hungate to check the corbels. Glad to report they were there, and might well have represented John and Margaret.
The reason for this bizarre behaviour was that I was assisting Rob Knee on Wednesday with guiding two groups of Cromer historians round some of the Paston sites, and I wanted to make sure I knew where everything was. In the event it turned out that the corbels were the least of my worries: when my group of 18 reached St Peter Hungate I couldn’t open the door, and broke the handle (in a minor sort of way) in the attempt. We continued unabashed to St Andrew’s Hall, where there was a school choirs event; so of course we couldn’t go in. So far, so bad.
From there it improved. When we got back to St Peter Hungate, Rob had opened it (and repaired the handle). Some of my group were very slow; so we were behind schedule, and when we bumped into Rob’s group again opposite the Cathedral, some of mine defected and headed for the refectory. By the time my group got there (having covered everything), there was little time for the promised snack before the bus left.
Happily I was not on the bus; so I could finish my delicious egg and cress sandwich (paid for by the historians, who also gave me £30). As I was relaxing I was asked to give a quick repeat tour to a couple of ladies who had been waiting in the wrong place and so missed the whole thing. So I went round again, really enjoying it this time, because talking to two people is much easier than talking to 18. They were very grateful.
Not much action the rest of the week. I have put more Paston letters into modern English and edited an article by Lucy on John Fenn & Co. And I’m keeping up with the Lent tanka, as well as stringing along with Joy. Oh, and updating websites.
Which reminds me, yesterday I called on Phil and Joy with Phil’s presents. They were both quite perky, though tired. Joy has taken to painting in a studio upstairs. Earlier in the day (or was it the day before?) I had bought Phil a couple of books and a bottle of wine.
It’s a sunny, warmer day, and Dot has just been out in the garden (with a little help from me), tidying up. Norwich City are already on the radio, and she is in the kitchen.
The air has been gradually losing its chill over the past week, but last Sunday, when we went to the Seagull at Lowestoft after I had both led and preached in the morning, it was still pretty cold, with a chill wind. Phil was unable to come with us; so Dot and I played a couple of Julian songs in the first half, and I did “I Want to Catch Fire” on my own later. This is a song I wrote many years ago, but I have only just worked out how to sing (and play) it. It seemed to go all right.
On Monday it was still very cold; so Dot and I decided not to walk to the Greens’ for the DCC. We had a longish meeting, with a rather relaxed discussion at the end. The new vicar turned out to be not the one we had anticipated, but everyone seemed happy about him. His name is David Austin, and he is a big devotee of Facebook: he has been posting a great deal this week, not all of it uninteresting.
Next morning I walked up to Archant in murky weather for the monthly coffee morning: Su Lee was in attendance, as was Bob Easter, with news that Alan Atherton was extremely ill and not likely to last long. It was rather a subdued gathering after that, but a new chairman, Eric, was elected (can’t remember his surname: he was a print room supervisor), Alan having stood down.
On Wednesday Dot and I managed to get to the cinema, with two free seats (accumulated points) to see The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, which we enjoyed tremendously. Intelligent script, good direction and beautiful, relaxed acting. We were smiling all the way through and for some time afterwards.
Thursday was quite busy. We went out to North Walsham to put flowers on the graves (it was Doreen’s birthday) and then called in on Jessie for a cup of tea and biscuits: she seemed in very good form. We had to get back in time to let in Naomi, who came for the night so that she could get to a course at UEA the next morning. Having let her in, we abandoned her and walked to the Greens for an evening meal with them and Vicky and Helen Ward, who was staying for a few days. Typical Green hospitality left us replete and walking back home just before midnight.
The next day everyone except Dot went to UEA. Slight exaggeration – Naomi left early for her course, and I followed not long after (by bus) for a meeting at the Registry with other Paston trustees and Dr Karen Smyth, who gave me a three-handed chess set. We also spent a long time talking about the Heritage Lottery Fund bid, and continued the discussion after a lunch in Vista (the top cafe). I had fish and chips, which was excellent. Naomi joined us at her own expense and went back to Mundesley with her mother..
I returned home by bus and spent quite a long time catching up with paperwork. Dot arrived home from lunch with Anne shortly after I arrived, and after a bit more work we spent much of the evening watching TV. After the fish and chips, not much supper necessary.
Our Christmas present from Oliver – a rose – has produced two lovely new blooms.
Rather a lot of paperwork to bring the month to a close this week, and so a regrettable reduction in physical activity. Not much to record there, other than a trip into the city to pay a cheque and a walk round the Rosary yesterday. And here I am at the computer again while Dot ventures into the city. On her return we head to the church hall to rehearse a few songs with Phil.
The paperwork included researching and writing three article for Parish Pump – on the Armenian Genocide, Einstein and the Mt Tambora eruption in 1815 – writing a sermon, and compiling a financial report for the year for the DCC. I am also trying to write a tanka a day for Lent. In addition I have spent about half an hour on the phone renewing my car insurance, and a further quarter of an hour (most of it waiting) to sort out our lost Gift Aid repayment. I have also booked some tickets to see Adrian Plass in June, which is more complicated than it sounds because I had to do it in batches of three. The e-mail replies are the ticket, and the five of us may not go together, partly because Dot and I are due to return from Scarborough that day, with hold-ups always a possibility.
The highlight of the week was probably the lunch at St Luke’s on Monday with a select company including the Bishop, the Dean, the Archdeacon and two prospective vicars. We gave one of the vicars (and his wife) a tour of the parish in our (borrowed) car afterwards and discovered parts of it that we didn’t know existed. Well, not as part of the parish, anyway. “Our” vicar seemed very nice, and we rather hope he will be selected, though that is hardly fair on the other one, who we didn’t really get a chance to chat to. We believe the name of the “lucky” man will be announced tomorrow, if he has said yes. The Bishop and Dean were very pleasant, and the Bishop remembered Dot’s name; so that’s all good 🙂
After the lunch and tour we picked up Dot’s MX5 from the coachwork off Hall Road (just far enough off to make it hard to find). It looked immaculate. I then returned the Corsa to Enterprise Car Rentals and was given a lift home. Normally I would have walked from Heigham Street, but the wind was icy and I was carrying a file of documents that I didn’t want to lose.
Because the MX5 was finished early, Dot had to take our Mazda 2 to Kent (the P4C whiteboard won’t get in the MX5), which was a pity because of the additional mileage. Nevertheless, she had a good journey both ways, paying the Dartford Crossing toll online for the first time.
While she was away, Rob came round to discuss his forthcoming tour of Paston Norwich for the Cromer group he is giving a series of talks to. As the group is quite large, he wants me to help. One or two small bits of new stuff to me, but the next day I was coming back from the city when I noticed St George’s Tombland was open; so I popped in to see the dragon. This is the model dragon that’s used for the Lord Mayor’s procession each year, symbolising the Guild of St George, which is linked to Dragon Hall. While at the church (and being given a thorough tour by a kind elderly gentleman) I noticed that it also had a monument to Thomas Anguish by Nicholas Stone, who is well know for various Paston links.
On the same day we had our hair cut – a week after the scheduled date, so not before time. On Friday I had a routine blood test, and it was after that that I walked for a while in the Rosary, which I always find moving. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and thousands of crocuses were blooming, together with a few snowdrops. Did I mention that I had also dropped in my accounts file to Susannah (the St Luke’s treasurer), and later the cheque books and paying-in books? I hope the accountants can make some sense of them.
Half-term week seemed empty, but it filled up fairly rapidly. The first three days saw blue skies, but yesterday it rained in the afternoon and evening, and today it’s just chilly and grey. I’ve just been up to the city to buy some new paper for the printer and was picked up by Dot on her circuitous way back from collecting her pills. Well, that paper is pretty heavy.
On Tuesday we eventually managed to fulfil our promised visit to Mairead and Simon for a cup for tea. The children were with his father; so we had a fairly uninterrupted hour or so, if you don’t count the dog. Simon seemed a lot better, but still awaits news of what they can do about his leg, which gives him a lot of pain. In the afternoon Dot and I went up to the Castle and heard Rob speaking in the person of John Paston III abut the Pastons in Norwich. Nice costume. Penny was there too, and so was David Clegg, the lutanist, who I failed to recognise without his hat.
In the evening we gave a lift to Judy when we visited Claire for Pancakes and Compline. I have a great fondness for pancakes, and it’s sad that we seem to have them only once a year. All present and correct, which was nice.
On Wednesday morning I at last managed to visit Mary Welander at Eckling Grange, which was a strange experience. She is 98 (almost) and has very poor eyesight, but is quite alert. Once I’d explained who I was things went reasonably well; I replaced the battery in her clock and read her post to her. She has nice little bungalowette in the grounds of the main house, and has been there for about 30 years, since her return from Malaysia, where she had been as a nurse for the previous 30 years.
She has connections with Surrey Chapel (as well as being Joy McCall’s niece) and she went out to China as a nurse/missionary in December 1945 on a troop ship to Bombay, followed by a train across India and a light plane into China. She was at a hospital in north-west China, near the Gobi Desert, until she was deported by the Communists. She returned to England, working for a while in 1951 at North Walsham Cottage Hospital (amazingly enough) before someone realised that the nurses who’d been in China (and could speak the language) would be good in Malaysia, where there were a lot of Chinese. So off they went.
I left when her lunch of liver and bacon arrived. It didn’t look very exciting, unlike the first part of her life. Later in the day Dot and I visited Jessie, who is a mere 82 and very lively. Excellent tea and buns. I always enjoy seeing her.
Yesterday evening Paul and Maryta came round for supper of fish pie and carrot soup, though not in that order. Paul seems to be feeling at a bit of a loose end after his retirement, though he says he’s writing a book about being a headmaster. Maryta is doing lots of riding and dog-walking. Both of them are worried about their neighbours’ proposed extension, which does sound a bit intrusive.
We are now the proud if temporary possessors of a brand new Corsa, lent to us while the MX5 is repaired. I was taken to pick it up from Enterprise in Heigham Street on Friday afternoon. The traffic both ways was so bad that it took nearly an hour altogether, and my driver on the outward journey was not slow to point to the Grapes Hill roundabout as the problem.
The car has been on the drive since then, apart from two short trips – one to church yesterday, and one to the doctor’s today. I would also have driven it to the supermarket, but decided to wait till tomorrow because of the forecast heavy rain that annoyingly failed to materialise. Instead I watched the film Bitter Lake for the second time while Dot watched it for the first time. Still good, and available on iPlayer! It explains everything.
The visit to the doctor was routine, and had the added bonus of revealing a reduction in my blood pressure to 136/88. I had a discussion about the advisability of remaining on two Lanzoprasole tablets: the main reason for the visit. I feel better when on two a day; so naturally I have to try to get it back to one. Last Thursday, in a thinly related health event, I went to the hospital to see a urology nurse, which turned out to be a complete waste of time. She didn’t know why I was there, and nor did I (other than receiving a letter telling me to attend). On the plus side, I seem to be OK. On the minus side, she didn’t like me criticising her inaccurate diagram, and I didn’t like going in half an hour late.
When I got back from the doctor’s today I did some cutting and pulling in the garden to get something in our brown bin, which made me quite tired, but I’m sure it was good for me. Last week was a record as far as walking was concerned. When I say record, I mean the best week in the past month. Even counting Buxton.
Last Friday Dot and I went to a house somewhere in the middle of a field. I think it was Framingham Pigot, but it could have been Bixley or some other, nameless part of South Norfolk. The event was a brunch to celebrate the success of a charity run by one of Dot’s friends, Helen (a former head teacher), which involved collecting sugar for homeless shelters. Don’t ask. Anyway it was a nice event. Helen is lovely, her husband Chris was a nice bloke, and I spent much of the time talking to Sue and Roger Eagle, though not Louise, as Louise pointed out. She is the secretary of the charity, and a nurse, I believe. Probably not urology. The food was excellent.
We had to rush back to get the MX5 in place to be collected by the body repairers. It was duly carted off, and will not be seen again until next week. Dot has arranged for them to do another dent unrelated to the recent car park mishap, which will end up costing us over £300. So that’s all good.
In the evening we went to the centenary dinner of St Augustine’s Hall, which was honoured by the presence of the Sheriff of Norwich, William Armstrong OBE, the former Norwich Coroner who used to go out with Dot when they were both at City College. So obviously she chatted him up. His wife Monica was very nice. Obviously I didn’t chat her up. Or shoot the Sheriff, though I’m saying nothing about his deputy. Nice meal provided by Carrie’s crowd, and I helped with the washing up. The plaque looked good – a rare example of a suggestion of mine coming to fruition.
On Valentine’s Day Dot went to see Norwich City beat Wolves 2-0, which made her happy and relieved that she was not an unmitigated jinx. In the evening I cooked her an M&S meal that I had bought earlier. It came with fizzy stuff and was quite tasty.
On Sunday after church we were prepared to go and see Jessie, but it turned out she was spending the afternoon with Roger; so we stayed in. I walked up to the Rosary while Dot did some sewing. I know that’s hard to believe. Also hard to believe is the fact that I sent off for and have now fixed a new letterbox. It wasn’t easy, of course. The fittings were not quite right (although they looked right on the diagram), and I had to cut off some plastic bits and screw in where nothing had been screwed before. I amaze myself. The cut in my hand was not very deep.
Grin Low, approaching Solomon’s Temple but before Dave and Julia turned back
The weather is turning a bit milder, which was noticeable as we walked up to Swintons on Prince of Wales Road this morning. The short trip was necessary as the MX5 was backed into by a car in a car park at Hethersett yesterday. The woman kindly confessed to Dot, who was in the restaurant, and we took the car up to Wrights when she got home – only for them to give us the number of a car body specialist.
The damage was slight; so we went to Swintons today to ask their advice. As a result we are going to the car body people tomorrow. We will then let the other driver know the quote, which she will either pay or we will go through the insurance people. Lot of hassle for something we had minimal part in – but still in the great scheme of things, people are getting a lot more hassle for even less fault.
In an hour or so Dot will leave for a P4C event in Rayleigh, Essex, and I will try to get some creative work done and not spend time catching up with paperwork as usual.
A week ago (last Wednesday, to be precise) I managed to forget a PCC meeting, which is unlike me, especially as it was in the diary. But when Dot shot off to orchestra, it went out of my head. Actually it had gone out of my head long before that. It was a special meeting to think up questions for prospective vicars; so I don’t think I missed much.
The next day I drove out to Hethersett to repay Birgit money I owed her for Josephine’s wreath, which was a joint one from Dot and me, Phil and Joy, and Birgit and Joe. (Oxford comma.) We had a brief chat, but I didn’t stay. I had an unexpected sermon to write, because Carrie wanted to swap Sundays. I didn’t mind, because it was on some of my favourite passages, including John 1 and Proverbs 8.
It was still pretty cold on Saturday, but Dot was relieved of her ticket to see Norwich City play Blackpool as it was required by the guy who acres it with her. So of course Norwich City won, 4-0. Later I walked to Fishergate to see my cousin’s son’s art show at the Stew. He has an amazing imagination (I particularly liked his titles) but I wasn’t tempted enough to buy. Glad I went because I saw his parents, Mark and Julie.
On Sunday the sermon went OK, and to check it out we decided to go to the cinema to see The Theory of Everything. But it didn’t mention my sermon. Good film, deserving of the awards it got the same day. The following day we saw Shaun the Sheep, which is a very similar film in some ways. Stephen Hawking is much cleverer than most humans, and Shaun the Sheep is much cleverer than most sheep. And their ideas about the origin of the universe are probably just as close to the truth (though to be fair I don’t really know what either of them are).
Pre-Shaun, I walked into the city to pay in the church cheques as usual, and Dot went to see Carrie for lunch, which is where we came in. Since writing the above we’ve been contacted by the other insurance company, which has taken over the whole thing and is collecting the car on Friday while lending us another one. I jumped in too quickly and hassled myself. Typical.
Negotiating the walk to the station, rather gingerly
There was more snow overnight on Friday, and on Saturday we decided to take the train to Manchester. Julia was particularly worried about tricky underfoot conditions on the way to the station, but we managed to reach it unscathed, to find that a return ticket to Manchester, including a tram journey anywhere while there, amounted to £6 each. Since the train journey was an hour long, this seemed to represent absurdly good value for money.
As we neared Manchester, the snow disappeared, until there was no trace at all after Stockport. In Manchester there was a cold wind, but it was sunny. We went to the Imperial War Museum North, not far from the BBC and the Lowry Centre where, coincidentally, an edition of Britain’s Got Talent (I think) was being filmed. On the way back to the tram stop we had to negotiate star-struck crowds outside.
The museum itself was intriguing from an architectural point of view and laid out in rather a chaotic way (thus reflecting war, no doubt). There was a good short film on rationing projected on the walls to all and sundry, some excellent poetry from poet in residence Mario Petrucci and a particularly good one on the Twin Towers by Simon Armitage. There was also a superb aerial sculpture by Gerry Judah called The Crusader.
We also climbed up a 100ft tower (160+ steps – the lift was broken, no doubt through enemy action) and partook of refreshment in the cafe.
Julia was worried (again) about underfoot conditions in Buxton and tried to book a taxi, to no avail. Dot and I walked on ahead, but Julia and Dave made it without too much trouble. It wasn’t really too bad, unlike the following morning, when two of our waitresses fell over on the way to work – happily without serious injury.
There had been no more snow, but there was plenty lying around, and we decided not to be too ambitious. We headed (by car) for Poole’s Cavern, possibly the only place in Buxton that we had been to but the Evetts hadn’t. Pausing only for coffee (after all it was practically an hour since we had had breakfast) we toured the cave in the company of an excellent guide called Robin, who was particularly good with the children in our small party. We had seen it before, but it was worth seeing again.
After lunch in the cafe we decided to drive up to Grin Low – a very short distance, but it involved (initially) a road too slippery to drive up and a car park too slippery to get into. However, Dave parked skilfully at the side of the entrance road, and we ventured out onto the snow, some of us more gingerly than others. In fact the most dangerous bit was getting out of the car, where the ice was treacherous. Having managed that, the quite deep snow on the hill was pretty straightforward and beautiful to boot.
We were within about ten minutes of Solomon’s Temple, a tower on the summit, when Dave and Julia decided it was too dangerous to go further; so they headed back. Dot and I continued, and found it was actually quite easy, give or take the odd dog. Climbing the tower was another matter: the steps were treacherous, and we had to be very, very careful. Good view, though. We got back to the car about ten minutes after the others and drove back to the hotel.
The hotel was at its best: the food was excellent, and the rooms were just right. We also got into conversation with two waitresses we knew from previous years and got shown pictures of their children!
The journey home on Monday was even easier than the journey north, and the only problem we had was going astray when trying to find Donnington Services and adding about ten miles to our journey. This is much more complicated than it sounds. We stopped once for coffee at Leicester and got home before 3pm.
I was very tired but had to rouse myself to go to Dunston Hall in the evening for a meal with Audrey and Bent, who had been spending the weekend there. This was a birthday surprise for Bent, who seemed quite pleased, to give him credit. The meal was pretty good, but we both declined the sweet, rather heroically.
Yesterday morning Dot was quickly back into her working role, and I walked up to Archant for a pensioners’ coffee morning – the first time I’d been in the building for years. There about 20 present, most of whom I knew at least by sight. Robin had invited me, and his wife Shelagh was there too. Also Tony Foulkes and Alan Atherton, looking very ill. He was apparently told a couple of months ago he had a couple of tumours on his lungs: he looked painfully thin and got out of breath very quickly. However, he took the trouble to welcome me and have a chat. A really nice bloke. Also had a brief chat with Pete Kelley, who happened to be in the canteen.
When I emerged from the building, the sun was blazing down and it was really quite pleasant; so I took the long way home.
Here we are in Buxton again, having defied numerous adverse weather forecasts and enjoyed a relatively trouble-free journey, calling in to see A Ethel on her birthday before heading down the A11. No free-falling snow at all on the journey, but plenty on the roadsides as we got beyond Leicester, and more than plenty as we neared our destination.
Buxton itself has had a great deal of snow, but the roads are clear and the sun was shining as we arrived. We will see how the weekend goes. Manchester has been mentioned. We have just had a cup of tea and chat with Dave and Julia and will be going down to dinner soon.
The wintry week began with my leading the service on Sunday and continued on Monday with a visit to James Knox Whittet at Heydon, where we were joined by Rob and discussed the future of Chronicle, settling on a project focusing on Norwich and the decade 1460-70. Caroline is too involved in her new home in the Lake District and matters arising to be involved, but she remains on the Chronicle website as a full member.
On Tuesday I received a letter from the Inland Revenue, asking me to access a form online and change St Augustine’s bank details. Accessing it proved tricky, but I managed it eventually and completed it – ringing up Anna to get Howard’s NI number. Later I called in for Howard’s signature on the way to cake and compline at the Archers’. Anna and Niki were there. Not at the Archers’: present there were Claire and Vicky, with Judy unavoidably absent.
Arctic blasts late on Wednesday failed to deter me from going to the Maddermarket while Dot was at orchestra. I saw Boeing Boeing, a French farce about an American juggling three airline stewardesses. Good stuff, but the theatre was half empty, and I saw no-one I knew.
Yesterday we tried to beat the forecast snow in Norwich by hastening to the supermarket, washing the car, racing to North Walsham cemetery with flowers and then calling in on Jessie for tea and shortcakes – all before lunch. In the event no snow materialised.
Just had a very pleasant meal and have retired to bed. Heavy snow shower while we were eating, but only about a centimetre or two deposited. All had long chat with Polish waitress.
Happily, Linda did turn up and we had our hair cut. Pretty exciting. The next day we drove down to Burston to have a very nice lunch with artists Annette and Mike: excellent bread cooked by Mike, among other tasty things. It was a bit of a rush, as we then had to drive into Diss to see their shop – Designermakers21 – before racing back to Brooke, where Dot had to attend a feedback session at the school, earlier than expected at 3pm.
The shop was impressive though a little chilly, and Dot bought a cushion and candle shade. It was even colder outside. We dropped Mike off at his home and then Dot drove up to Brooke, arriving about eight minutes late, but only a minute or two after they’d actually started. However, she was in such a hurry that she left the car with me right outside the school gates, forgetting that I had had wine for lunch. Magically, I managed to park it without committing an offence.
On Friday Dot was out much of the day, but returned in time to greet the Hendersons at about 6.30pm. We had a drink, then supper at Prezzo’s, which we finished just in time, as Maryta walked out in protest at the language from an adjoining stag do. They came back to ours for coffee.
Yesterday I walked Dot to Carrow Road, where she was disappointed to see Norwich City lose to Brentford (1-2) and afraid of being labelled a bad-luck charm. She has certainly not been fortunate in the matches she’s seen this season. She now has to decide whether to continue to have a season ticket next year.
The day was not spoiled, however, as we then travelled to the Banningham Crown for an excellent meal with Roger and Jessie. The pub has been much extended, with new car parking and paths, and the staff are as pleasant and welcoming as ever. The pump where Dot’s mum used to sit and eat crisps in the 1920s while her father was in the pub is now incorporated in extra eating space, where we happened to sit. I had Guinness and steak pie, followed by a superb pavlova, which had a predictable effect when I went to bed, and made for an uncomfortable night. Lovely evening, though.
Today is slightly milder, but not a huge amount. I took the morning service, with Howard preaching, and we had four children present: Beatrice and Benjamin, with their mother Ruth; and Amy and George, with their mother Vicky and her mother Helen, down from Yorkshire. All good. We had thought of going for a walk this afternoon, but in the end it didn’t happen.
