Category Archives: Uncategorized

Hockey near Otterspool

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And here we are in Caddington. Amy is programming something on Google, Oliver is on Facetime from Aylesbury and Dot is cooking fajitas. I have just finished a John Le Carre book, which ended up in a predictably depressing way that I guess is realistic as far as the Congo is concerned. I picked it up at Edingthorpe Church while showing Dave and Julia one of the Paston walks.

We drove down here yesterday, stopping off to see Aunt Ethel on the way. She was healthy enough but a bit concerned that she and John were being asked to take on the running of the home following their arranged marriage. Interesting idea.

We arrived in plenty of time to have a bite to eat and then drive down to Aldenham to watch Amy playing hockey at Edge Grove School. We met Emma and had a chat, than after the game – in which Amy looked pretty good to me – all the parents / grandparents were invited for  a match tea: sandwiches, cakelets and hot drinks. Very civilised.

On the way home we drove in to neighbouring Wall Hall College, which is now private roads and pricey dwellings for the super-rich. Once back on the M1 we could catch a glimpse of Otterspool, which I understand has suffered much the same fate.

We got home to Caddington around 4.45pm, and Dot cooked chicken chasseur with pasta. Then, following a plan we had only just found out about, I drove to the Travellers’ Rest at Edlesborough to meet Vicky (and Oliver) and take delivery of various bags of clothing and other items. By now it was raining hard as forecast, but this had dispersed by the time we woke up this morning, shortly before 7am.

We were more or less spectators as Amy got herself breakfast, and we left around 7.40pm. Despite being held up by a rear-end shunt (not us), a traffic jam on the A505 and a bin lorry in the narrow streets of Markyate, we made it to school in good time, and Amy disappeared in search of her school shoes which she – in common, it turned out, with several other girls – had left behind when setting off for her hockey match the day before. These duly turned up, but she is now minus a sock.

We turned up early to meet Amy out of school, and the journey both out and in was uneventful. Grace popped round for a bit, then Amy went to hers, then Grace came back … and eventually was fetched by her father. Amy had a bath and we watched some catch-up TV on Dot’s laptop; then had an early night. Earlier in the day we had visited Sainsburys and spoke to a woman who had to get up at 5am to get her granddaughter to school. Going a bit far, in several ways.

Before our journey south, on Monday we were given a lift by the Archers to Judy’s for our occasional cake and compline. In a later e-mail David A said he had felt “below par” and thought I was too. I didn’t know that.

Answering sculpture call

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Organ recital at Paston Church, with just a hint of medieval wall painting in the background (right).
Organ recital at Paston Church, with just a hint of medieval wall painting in the background (right).

The scaffolding has departed, the roof seems secure, and a cheque for over £2000 will shortly be winging its way to the builder. So that’s all right. Meanwhile, David is in Canada for Thanksgiving, and I have written three more Iona poems in the hope of getting a book together and keeping Joy happy: she wants me to publish a book of photographs and poems.

On Wednesday I went to see the doctor, who seemed fairly happy with me and in a bit of a hurry for a training session. He is going to book me in for an ultrasound check on my upper stomach/large bowel, but he says my other symptoms (virtually none) make it unlikely that it’s anything too serious. This is not as reassuring as he might have intended it to be.

I left my glasses behind, which he didn’t notice as he flew out of the room, but when I got home, I realised what I’d done. I rang the surgery, to be told it was closed for training. I drove back anyway and found it was indeed closed, which is a rare example of joined-up thinking at Thorpewood. So I had to do without my glasses until the following  morning, when I picked them up from reception.

Later that day, we had our hair cut after a postponement from last week. This is normal – even more normal that postponing a meeting with the Coomes.

Yesterday was the much-heralded Open Day at Paston Church, organised largely by the PCC but partly by the Paston Heritage Society. Dot and I drove out, enjoyed an organ recital, and I took Penny back to North Walsham so that Rob could continue in role as John Paston in a funny hat. On my return there was a talk on medieval wall paintings, which was more interesting than it sounds. Peter was there showing an updated version of the DVD in which Rob appears with animation of a reconstruction of Paston Hall. Impressive, actually. Lucy was there for quite a while, feeling considerably better than of late. Refreshments were superb as usual, despite Brigette being called away because her no-longer-secret barn had flooded.

We called in on Jessie on the way back, adding to our refreshment, and after our return tho Norwich (through a considerable thunderstorm) we got a call from the Hendersons halfway through our mussels. As a result recalled round for champagne and a view (through the darkness) of the new sculpture, which was nicely placed and looking good. We took some cakes, which turned out to be mouldy. Ah well.

Today was Nicholas’ last communion at St Augustine’s, which attracted a motley crew of more than 30 people, including Vicky and Amy and others less distinguished. All very jolly, with excellent cake from Anna and apparently some wine, though this did not reach me. I had a nice cup of tea, though.

Karen and Julia at UEA

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Dave, Dot and Julia at the start of the walk, near Paston Great Barn
Dave, Dot and Julia at the start of the walk, near Paston Great Barn

The roof has been restored – we hope. It’s raining today, and it rained more on Saturday: no evidence of water getting in, but we’ve had nothing like the downpours that caused the original problem.

Builder Bert finished on Thursday – earlier than we thought and his departure coincided  with the appearance of the window cleaner; so I didn’t have a proper discussion with him. Later I noticed that some leading around the chimney was loose; so I contacted the scaffolders, who I thought were going to remove the scaffolding on Friday. They said they weren’t, and  they’d get Bert to ring me, but nothing happened.

I rang them again on the Saturday morning and left a message asking for Bert’s phone number (which I’d lost). They rang back with it, and I was eventually able to speak to him. He came round on Sunday morning and repaired the leading – all of this fitting in neatly with our other weekend activities centring on the visit of the Evetts. The scaffolding is still there, but it should go tomorrow. The Evetts are in St Albans, on their way to pick up Amy.

Before they got here, on the Wednesday, when it was still warm, I visited the dentist, who cleared me at a cost of £98, and then Geoff Saunders, who had had a recent seizure problem resulting in a sudden visit to hospital. This turned out to be more spectacular than serious, and he was quite chirpy. His right side had improved a lot, and he said his feet were getting better. HIs carer, Lisa, was there, and we all had a cup of tea and biscuits.

In the evening, while Dot was at orchestra, I visited the Arts Centre for a performance of The Shipwrecked House by poet Claire Trévien. It opened with some new poems from Martin Figura, and I found myself seated next to his wife, Helen Ivory; so I couldn’t heckle. As if: one or two of the poems, on politicians and machines, were quite good. The main event was disappointing, despite its glowing reviews. I probably should have read the book before I went, because it was hard to make out what was going on, and she wasn’t easy to hear in the face of the sound effects (sea, storm etc). 

The next day I was picked up fairly early by Rob Knee, and we visited Karen Smyth at UEA to talk about a big research project relating to the Pastons that Karen would like to get money for. In the afternoon Dot and I were supposed to have our hair cut, but when it became apparent that Linda wasn’t coming, Dot rang her, and she said she’d sent me a message on Facebook. I then discovered that she had, but for some reason it hadn’t reached my e-mail inbox. Ho hum.

Dave and Julia arrived about 1.30pm on Friday. We had lunch and then walked the riverside path up to the art school, followed by tea and coffee at Costa’s in London Street. It was warm enough to sit outside, and it was still pretty warm the next morning when Julia went off to a conference at which she was speaking at UEA and we took Dave (via bus and the rail bridge) to walk round the new broad at Whitlingham, plus a bit of Thorpe Green.

After lunch we took the bus again – this time to the Sainsbury Centre for a superb exhibition entitled Reality. Some really mesmerising  paintings, including a couple by Kate Coleman. Particularly liked Clive Head and John Keane. During this the forecast rain arrived, and the temperature fell. Julia emerged from her conference and joined us for a drink in the restaurant, and then we took the bus home – a 70-minute marathon during which we waited interminably on Foundry Bridge to turn right into a road packed with stationary cars. The bus was jammed, but at least the rain was stopping.

In the evening we walked up to Jamie’s for an excellent meal: our waiter was Steve, who we had had before. He was first class.

On Sunday it was dry, but with some chilliness in the air. After Bert fixed the leading round the chimney, we drove to Mundesley for scones and tea, and then did a shortened version of one of the Paston walks, starting at the church and visiting Edingthorpe after doing a bit of blackberry picking on the way (crumble for supper later); then completing the circle. Just over four miles, and we popped into the recently repaired church before we returned to Mundesley for tea and cake.

In the evening we watched the Japanese grand prix, the result of which we had been keeping from Dave all day.

Oxnead event fulfils hope

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Oliver at the wheel of a fast-moving Ferrari.
Oliver at the wheel of a fast-moving Ferrari.

After months of planning, the big Paston event at Oxnead Hall slotted neatly into place on Friday. The weather was fine – often sunny – dry and warm, and the 80 or so invited guests were able to explore the extensive gardens without recourse to umbrellas or wellington boots. They were welcome by Rob, sitting by the car park, checking them off his list – one of his few moments of relaxation.

Interestingly, the Eagles arrived very early, largely because they had the time wrong. But many others drove in before the official start time, including some distinguished Paston experts like Jean Agnew. So much like Jean Agnew, in fact, that it was Jean Agnew – author of A Whirlpool of Misadventures, a collection of Robert Paston’s letters.

We arrived at 10am, helped with the setting up and did a full rehearsal at 11am, which went pretty well, under the watchful eye of Dot. Among our friends who attended: the Hendersons; the Archers; Jessie, Roger and Jude; Claire Carrington; the Kibbles; the O’dells; Lucy Edwards; Karen Smyth and Liz McDonald from UEA; and of course the Eagles. Not the band.

We had forgotten to bring a packed lunch; so at about 1pm we nipped into North Walsham to get some sandwiches from Waitrose – and used the opportunity to purchase a bouquet for Penny (we had already got four other bouquets for Lucy, Oxnead owner Beverley Aspinall, Ann and Ruth at Rob’s request).

The performance itself went smoothly, and I felt reasonably confident in my 17C costume (a sentence I never thought I would write). Dot and I combined well on our song, and we got some good responses afterwards. We also got some amazing PHS food – a veritable high tea which included a chocolate and rum cake made by Dot. Rob gave a brief speech and I trotted on with the bouquets, including our surprise one for wardrobe mistress and set designer Penny. Lucy came with Naomi for the last half-hour or so: she was quite ill and should have been in Papworth, but it was good that she was able to put in an appearance, what with her being the PHS founder, and the event being (among other things) a celebration of its 21st birthday.

After chatting to as many people as we could, we spent quite a long time clearing up, which included chair removal, washing up and transferring a great deal of stuff into waiting cars. Felt pretty much exhausted at the end.

The next day Colin gave our hedge a good cutting, and the garden looks much more attractive. Dot couldn’t resist a great deal of tidying up in his wake (not that he left it in a mess: he’s very thorough), and I’ve cut back the foliage around the kitchen window. Dot has also bought some new plants, mainly for the front garden.

On Sunday Nicholas made one of his last appearances at St Augustine’s. He’s just received the go-ahead for his visa, and should be leaving in early November. Afterwards we called on Elvira at her invitation for a cup of tea, but largely so that she could show us her new flat. Later still we had a meal at Prezzos with Neville and Mary Thrower (Neville is a former CNS contemporary, and Mary is in the orchestra with Dot). Very enjoyable, but I’m a little worried, because all three of them were getting over bad colds, which naturally makes you feel you’re catching them.

Meanwhile the scaffolding in our back garden awaits the arrival of the builder to work on the roof. Dot is out all day at various schools, and Barbara is due to visit after that for a P4C consultation. In other news, I have put together the bones of a book on Iona featuring poems and pictures, and Oliver has driven a Ferrari at 100mph, apparently earning praise from his tutor. It was a birthday present from his mother (I think). What a star! As long as he doesn’t get too much of a taste for fast cars…

I don’t know why

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The visit to Pinkys in Halesworth nearly didn’t happen. I dawdled over my egg curry and left myself with little time to get to Halesworth and then find the cafe. I took the back route and arrived at the car park I knew with about eight minutes to spare. I walked through the middle of town in what I thought was the right general direction and happened on the cafe  just in time. The room was already full, but I found a seat somewhere in the middle (not my favourite position) and bought a pot of tea. I don’t know why.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the evening followed the Seagull format, and I read three of my poems in the first half: Distant Funeral, Old Pictures and three tanka I’d just written on the theme of injured angel. They seemed to be well received,  and I had a pleasant chat during the break with a couple from Woodbridge who were sitting opposite me. Some of the usual suspects from the Seagull were there, including Kaaren Whitney  and Elizabeth Bracken. Oh, and Oonagh, who doesn’t write poetry but likes to read poems. I don’t know why.

To my astonishment the evening had ended by 8.45pm, and I made my way home through very misty Suffolk lanes and only slightly less misty Norfolk ones. I caught Ann and Jim before they went to bed, and we talked until 11.15, which is ridiculously late for them. I tried to explain how something could be poetry if it didn’t rhyme. I don’t know why.

The next day we celebrated Joy’s 60th birthday, nearly three weeks too late. The party was at Joe and Birgit’s in Hethersett, and we picked up a Northern Irish woman called Kirby (I think) from Douro Place. Other guests at the party included several Surrey regulars, plus – to my surprise – Sam, Lucy, Elliott and Helen( Lucy’s mother), with whom I had a longish chat while feeding Elliott with German cheesecake. We helped clear up and took Phil and Joy home afterwards. I don’t know why.

The next day I preached on grumbling. I was against it. I do know why.

On Monday, while Dot was at a P4C meeting in Metfield, I caught up with some church treasurer work and walked into the city to pay in some cheques. On the way I bumped into Nicola, Anna’s sister, who was cycling to meet her boyfriend at the station. In the evening I played what may be my last game of chess for some time, losing to Jeff Dawson in the club knockout tournament. It was a good game, quite complicated, and not one I minded losing, but there were some possibilities in it for me, and I just didn’t have the stamina to concentrate at the end. I don’t know why.

Ann and Jim meet Paul

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Ann ventures into the Yare, enticed by a dreadful compulsion
Ann ventures into the Yare, enticed by a dreadful compulsion

My cousin Ann and her husband Jim from Liverpool have been with us since Monday. They arrived at about 1pm, roughly ten hours before Dot got back from her successful P4C visit to Essex and Kent. I’ve been feeling pretty mediocre, but no problem in carrying on – not that we’ve done much. They seem very happy to do a minimal amount, but perhaps that’s not surprising , as they’re 75 and 87 respectively. Suits me! I have booked a urology consultation at Cromer in November.

On Tuesday we went round to see Paul, but he was out; so we drove on to Earlham Park, where we had an ice cream after sitting by the river bank. Ann actually paddled in the Yare  for a while, as she can’t resist water, apparently. The situation would have been idyllic had it not been for a number of rather ugly dogs and their owners frolicking in the vicinity.

Later I walked down to the Rivergarden pub at Thorpe for the launch of Trevor Nuthall’s new history of Thorpe St Andrew. He gave a nice talk, and the book turns out to have a lot of information on Thorpe Hall, a former Paston seat – which is what I had hoped. Also present were EDP photographer Denise Bradley, unbelievably a grandmother now, and Nick Williams from St Peter Hungate. Among others.

On Wednesday all four of us walked up to the Castle, hoping to see the Birds exhibition, only to discover that it had just finished. So we looked round generally, had a light lunch and bumped into Caroline and her two brothers. Some drama as a woman collapsed in the cafe. I overheard a member of staff observe that the person dealing with it had two speeds: stop and slow. It did seem to be a long time before she was dealt with.

Dot left early to do some work at home, and I took Ann and Jim round the pretty way over the Julian Bridge – “pretty” being a totally inapt description of the approaches to it, which are still in a disgusting state.

Yesterday we did manage to find Paul in – I had phoned to fix an appointment the day before, but he didn’t respond to our ringing the bell and knocking until I phoned him from outside, and he still claimed not to be able to see us from the bedroom window. However, once he came down we had a good chat for about 45 minutes; so it was worth while.

Earlier we had gone with Dot to Whitlingham, where we had a short walk and then a snack from the cafe. It was very hot again, but once more the setting was spoiled by a huge number of dogs, many of them just as ugly as the ones at Earlham.  Dot walked part of the way home as part of her exercise, and the rest of us continued to Paul’s.

In the evening we went to Oaklands for a carvery, which was a bit of a curate’s egg. Possibly 5pm is not a good time to catch the food right. Coincidentally (or not) I had diarrhoea during the evening, but that could have been a plum that had gone off. I also wrote most of my sermon for Sunday.

Today I went for a blood test, and experienced a world record, in that it was early. That just never happens. Dot then went to give Sam and Jessica Vesey some P4C experience as part of their home schooling: I was due to go to the UEA with Rob, but Karen was unwell; so it was postponed. Instead I took Ann and Jim for a ride on the route they will have to take to reach the A11 tomorrow and then dropped them in the city. They still have not found their way home. Dot is in the city with Anne. I am due to go to Halesworth this evening to read some poetry.

Small giraffe thrown in

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High water at the Linn of Quoich
High water at the Linn of Quoich

The Lavenham excursion turned out to be particularly interesting. It was basically a private view by sculptor Kate Denton, who is a former Eltham College parent and who now lives in a house with huge grounds behind the church at Lavenham. The sculptures, some of which populated the gardens, were actually brilliant and equally actually hugely expensive. I cannot say how much Maryta spent on one she had set her heart on, but there was a small giraffe thrown in. I was impressed by Kate, who remembered my name as she said goodbye. It doesn’t take much…

We followed up this delight with another one, calling in at Nayland to see Maryta’s sister Terry and her husband Keith. They had recently taken delivery of an Aga for roughly the same outlay as Maryta’s sculpture. Where are we going wrong? Anyway, the tea and refreshments were lovely, and so were the hosts.

The following day (Saturday) we set off for Caddington for a late celebration of Oliver’s 12th birthday. Dot had baked a cake because she knew she was going. We had a lovely day, playing games (including one Amy had invented, and continued inventing as we played it). She is very clever at this kind of thing, and the game proved very playable and fun. We helped provide the food for lunch, and in the evening David cooked an excellent spaghetti bolognaise.  On the way home I detected that Dot was about to go to sleep while driving and took over at Thetford.

On Sunday after Communion, at which I sang my new song, Dot and I invigilated at the old church, which was open for Heritage Weekend. If I were to say we had few visitors during our hour, that would be pretty much spot on. However, we did have the guy who was supposed to have been invigilating the previous hour but got it wrong. Other than that, four, but Norwich Heart had admittedly forgotten to include it in their list of Norwich churches that were open – much to Stuart’s disgust.

Afterwards we went out to Norwich and visited the cemetery and a house that has just come on to the market and caught Dot’s eye. Quite nice, actually. Jessie was unfortunately out, but we left her a present from Scotland (Ecclefechan cakes). In the evening Dot left for Barbara’s, where she stayed the night, before they both headed south this morning for Rayleigh and then Canterbury for two P4C sessions. At least, I presume they did. I haven’t heard anything.

Meanwhile I have done some shopping and am awaiting the arrival of my cousin Ann and her husband Jim, who are presumably on the road from Surrey, where they spent the weekend.

Oliver hits a dozen

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When I dropped in at St Peter Hungate yesterday – it was open as part of the annual Heritage celebrations – someone asked if it was a special day, since people seemed to be celebrating. I quickly pointed out that it was my grandson’s birthday, than which you can hardly get more special. Oliver is 12, and a student of Sir Henry Floyd Grammar School at Aylesbury. We spoke to him on Facetime this evening. He seems to be having a good time. Will make further checks tomorrow.

Hungate had an exhibition about the first world war which was small enough to be both accessible and moving.  It also had trustee Carol Hardman, who turned out to be a friend of Rob Knee’s and a bit of an enthusiast. So that was good.

I had dropped in after dropping out of Elizabeth McDonald’s Paston lecture at the Maid’s Head, mainly because I couldn’t hear it and partly because I’d heard it before. I dropped back in at the end and chatted to her. The hotel had not served her well by putting her in a room that was too small for the impressive turnout and not providing her with a microphone. The audience drifted into the vestibule and showed commendable persistence in sticking with it.

In a slightly less popular event, we held our monthly cake and compline with the Archers, Vicky and Judy at Number 22. We also invited Vicky Lenton, but that was a mistake. Those e-mail addresses can get you into an awful lot of trouble. I could have invited someone I hardly know who actually turned up, for instance. As it was the usual suspects ate some cake that Dot had baked and pronounced it very good.

Going back in time, last Sunday saw us at St Augustine’s, with me leading the service and Dot doing the intercessions. Seemed a long time since we’d been there. As usual the congregation doubled the moment the clock struck 11. In the evening Dot and I went to the Seagull to hear James Knox Whittet and others. I read four poems, and Dot got into conversation with Anne KW, telling her about Oxnead. As a result I invited them, but they were unable to come. However James wants to be involved with Chronicle, so that’s all good.

On Monday we had the usual poor turnout at the DCC meeting, with only Nicholas, Howard, Ian, Dot and I attending. I gave a financial report: a crucial issue s was left unresolved because of the small turnout, but there you go. Nicholas’ departure date is still up in the air, and the strain may be telling.

For some reason I can’t remember I had agreed to play chess on Tuesday, taking part in what is termed a 100-board match, but what is really ten ten-board rapid matches, in which a combined force of Norwich Dons and Broadland swamped a Norfolk and Norwich team at Langley Prep School, winning 61½-38½. I contributed a measly four points to our total, playing by far my best game in the first round against a strong junior and then gradually deteriorating in an interesting variety of ways. I am not really built for rapid chess, but at least they don’t grade it.

On Wednesday Chronicle had a dress rehearsal for Oxnead, and I reluctantly donned a long waistcoat and one or two other things. Painful. It emerged that Caroline is likely to be leaving to live in Cumbria – at least for a while – so the long-term future of the group hangs in the balance. On the plus side, James Knox Whittet may join us. But we need a woman. (Notice the restraint involved in my lack of comment there?)

Afterwards I went to see the doctor and as usual failed to communicate what exactly was wrong with me. Still, I am having numerous blood tests (or one blood test for numerous things) and may be referred to a urologist. I’m not sure that’s what’s required, but I can offer no alternative. My daily intake of Lansaprozole has been doubled, and I’m not sure about that either. On the plus side, my blood pressure is going in the right direction.

I am just back from an unsuccessful foray to the Guildhall to hear a talk on Norwich murderers. The organisers went one better than yesterday: this time it was full to capacity a quarter of an hour before it started. Planning a few additional murders, I went instead to Pull’s Ferry and saw the Watergate Room, which I thought was not normally open, but which is in fact open every weekend during summer. Interesting fact: the ferry closed in 1943; it was there because Bishop Bridge was originally open only to people visiting the Cathedral and its environs.

Meanwhile Dot has abandoned her cake-making to meet Sue Eagle in the city. Later we head for Lavenham with the Hendersons.

Journey into the past

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A view from Killington Lake services on the way back from Scotland

The visit to Coventry went smoothly in reasonably warm and dry weather. I took the MX5 and quite enjoyed the experience, using the direct route and putting up with the road works on the A14. I arrived at the Premier Inn on Kenpas Highway at around 7pm and filled up at the BP station opposite. After a cup of tea, I decided to walk up the hill (further than I thought) and down Beanfield Avenue to where I used to live, more than 60 years ago.

Not much has changed except at the very bottom of the road, where some housing has been built and a fence blocks access to a school sports field, which used to be two green meadows ideal for playing in. You can still see the wood in the distance, and to my surprise I discovered that the rail track at the bottom of our garden is not only still there but functioning.

Returning to the hotel, I bought a sandwich, crisps and small bottle of wine from the petrol station M&S and ate it while watching England play rather badly against Norway. The room was quite small and a bit dark, but comfortable, and the receptionist was very friendly. Breakfast next morning came with East European efficiency and was at least a full English, if not brilliantly cooked. The tea was excellent, though.

I drove to Minster Lodge and arrived early for the meeting, though not before Elaine (his carer). Shortly afterwards we were joined by Matt, from Coventry Council’s financial department, and we spoke for about an hour, after which he said that it seemed clear to him that Andrew should get full funding under something called Section 117. But of course he has to refer to his manager, and so on. However, they have undertaken to pay for the past year – no strings – which is good.

Afterwards Andrew and I went out, and he showed me a really nice walk across the bridge and through some nice streets to Memorial Park, where we had coffee/tea and a scone and chocolate bun (both Andrew). We strolled back slowly, and at Helen’s suggestion I checked to see if he needed new trousers, deciding that he did. So when I got home I sent a cheque.

The journey back also went well after a brief stop at Morrisons to use the toilets and buy a sandwich, which I ate in a lay-by on the A14. I was home well before 4pm.

Yesterday Maryta rang as we were getting up to ask if she could pop in at 11am after delivering her friend Barbara to the station. We had drinks and quite a long chat before she left to meet Paul for lunch. He’s teaching on three days a week at Norwich School (not all day). In the course of our chat, we were invited to lunch at the Hendersons tonight, following the Coomes’ cancellation of their visit because of David’s badly bloodshot eye.

In the afternoon Dot and I went into the city to get my glasses fixed and to buy a few things for Oliver, who started senior school this week and who is 12 next week. We also went to the Forum to see a short film made by the Norfolk Wildlife Trust about the tidal surge at the end of last year. Some remarkable pictures, but apparently the coast, including the wildlife, has made a remarkable recovery. Which just goes to prove my theory that nature is much better at conservation than we are, and also knows when to make changes.

We arrived home just in time to have our hair cut, following which we ate half the chicken we had bought for the Coomes’ visit.

This morning Dot has gone to the chemist to get some pills she had forgotten to re-order, and I am back in front of my computer, slowly catching up as usual.

Here and (mainly) there

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Dot and Sue celebrate their conquest of the Cairnwell
Dot and Sue celebrate their conquest of the Cairnwell

The meal at Glen Lui last Friday was excellent, and a good way to end our holiday. The walk there and back was in quite steady rain, though. At the meal Dot spoke to a man from Yorkshire who was cycling in the hills, and we had a good conversation.

We left just before the 11am deadline on Saturday  and had a straightforward journey to Killington Lake, stopping briefly at Stirling services and at the Farm Shop at Tebay, as well as for lunch at Abington (steak and ale pie). Killington Lake had been given a bit of a makeover since last year, but unfortunately they had replaced the restaurant with a McDonald’s; so, like Lockerbie, no decent breakfast. Rather sad, and the room was a bit shabby too. It’s beginning to look as if Day’s Inn are going down a very American-style road, which means we shall have to go back to Premier Inn.

I drove the first part of the journey to Keynsham on Sunday, with no real problems until a much-heralded jam near Birmingham, where Dot spotted (and our satnav confirmed) a detour that looked very reasonable, involving part of the M54. It turned out very well, and we reached services on the M5 with no further problems. Big police presence here for no apparent reason. We had a lunch of sandwiches and continued south on the M5, Dot driving.

The first few miles from here were blighted by a 40mph speed limit (with cameras) that went on and on for no apparent reason. There were obviously roadworks in progress, but no-one was doing anything, and just about everyone was overtaking us. If the cameras were not in use, why didn’t they say so? This sort of thing makes me very angry.

We relied totally on the satnav to reach Dot’s accommodation in Keynsham, just south of Bristol, and the only time we went wrong (briefly) was when we ignored it. The room was in a rather basic pub: Barbara was already there. It wouldn’t have been my choice: the shower room looked awful. Still, it turned out OK apart from that.

I continued on my own (Dot was doing a P4C nearby the next morning, and she and Barbara were then travelling to Essex to do another one on the Tuesday). The satnav triumphed again, leading me on to the M4 near Chippenham, and the motorway turned out to be less fraught than I had anticipated. I stopped once for petrol and there was one minor hold-up near Reading, but this time I ignored – rightly – the suggested detour. Generally traffic was very heavy, but the only hold-up was in accessing the M25. Once on it, traffic moved well, and I reached Caddington in good time – just before Oliver, in fact. David had been retrieving the children from Vicky somewhere on the road to Aylesbury.

Had a lovely time with them, including an Indian takeaway, and then a good night’s sleep. They had to leave early the next morning for a familiarisation visit to Aylesbury (Oliver starts his new school today), and I set off for Norwich in wet and unappealing weather, which continued pretty much all the way, though it wasn’t quite so bad in Norfolk.

Felt pretty tired, but did a lot of unpacking and sorting out in the customary fashion. Then went to the chess club for a game with my old adversary Chris Tuffin in the club knockout tournament. I didn’t hold out a lot of hope, but did some preparation, looking at a couple of games he’d played in a line he favoured. He played the same line again, and I was able to play the first dozen moves or so without thinking much, following the ideas of his previous stronger opponent, who beat him in quite a short game. As anticipated, Chris deviated before the move where he’d made the big mistake before, and we got into a pretty level position, but at the time control he allowed a Queen exchange that gave me some advantage. I won a pawn and was able to convert the subsequent rook ending, helped by my advantage in time.

Still felt tired the next day, but caught up with a lot of admin stuff and did some washing. Dot rang to say both her sessions had gone well, and we arranged to meet at the Scole Inn at 3.20pm. This went according to plan, and we tried to drop off a shirt Roger had left at Ballater, but they were out. So we proceeded home and after a while took Joy’s birthday presents round, spending a pleasant hour or so there. Sadly we discovered that Lucy is still quite ill: her mother is with her much of the time.

In the evening we finished watching a serial on television and went to bed quite early. This afternoon I head for Coventry for a meeting about Andrew’s finances.