Warm has become hot, with occasional rain. This morning it is sunny, and Dot is about to go off to Hethersett to see her aunt and cousin. I had a bad night and am feeling pretty tired. The last three days have been full: on Friday and Saturday we were at St Luke’s all day as volunteers for the Martin Laird visit. Caught a bit of what he said, and liked it. Yesterday I led the service at St Augustine’s and fitted a bell in the loo, as requested by an occasional visitor who is disabled. I can foresee problems involving intrigued toddlers and am going to write a note to go with it – not that that will avoid the toddler problem: I suppose it could make it worse. In the afternoon Fred and Sue came round for tea. They were in Norfolk for the marriage of his sister Marjorie to Pat. We spent a stimulating afternoon together, starting with a cup of tea in the garden (pictured: the weather was warm enough even for me) and ending with a sort of high tea. As a result the pizza at Ambient Wonder  in the evening was a step too far, and I had only the slimmest slice before realising that I really, really wasn’t hungry.

Dot and I decided to take a day off yesterday and, after leaving the MX5 to be MOT-tested, we went to Blakeney for lunch at the Manor Hotel (fried whitebait for me), then walked out along the quay before moving on to Cley, where we parked at the visitor centre and walked out to the hides. Very chill wind blowing directly into the hide, but if you could get out of the wind, it was a beautifully sunny and warm day. Got out of the wind for a while among the reeds, and tried to identify a few flowers and birds. While we were briefly in the hide, a birder kindly let us look through his new bit of kit and we saw a spoonbill and a redshank, which I believe are birds. From there to Cley Green, a beautifully green and quiet spot about a mile inland, with an excellent pub and outstandingly large church, which had not only bats but what appeared to be house martins nesting in the porch. Or church martins. Of course they could have been spoonbills or redshanks. (Dot is pictured in the pub garden, quietly pleased.)

Took a look at a beautiful slate carving in the memorial garden by Philippa, who I met at the Twenty Group party. It was in memory of former Cathedral Dean Alan Webster, who I noticed planted a tree on the riverside walk in 1972. Have written a poem partly inspired by memorials, trees, slate and the passing of time.

Eight at Tuesday Group last night, and it was warm enough to eat outside. Very sheltered in the back garden. Dot has now departed for Dickleburgh, to visit a school there. I have received the paperwork for my operation and discovered it was for a slightly different operation. I checked, and all is OK.

By the way, I lost my chess game on Monday. Misplayed the opening, and never recovered. Last of the season: I like to finish on a low note.

Dot and Dave Evetts at or near the summit of a minor peak on Wiveton Downs, near Blakeney. About 145ft, and in case this does not impress you, it is a higher than a blue whale standing on its tail. Or its head. See earlier post for more details of this impressive walk.

England are now out of the world 20-over cricket cup, having allowed West Indies to score 80 in nine overs to win by the ridiculous Duckworth-Lewis method. Our captain, on being asked whether he had considered the weather forecast when he chose to bat, replied: “Certainly not.” My question is “Why on earth not?” It’s well known that the second team to bat has an advantage under Duckworth-Lewis, and it was pretty obvious that it was going to rain. England didn’t really impress, even when beating India.

We had a large amount of rain last night, and I had to go out in it to play chess. Clarification: I wasn’t actually playing chess in the rain, but I had to get through the rain to reach the venue. In the end I managed to draw after winning a piece for two pawns and failing to preserve the advantage. Rain easing off on the way home, but I still got wet.

I’m seeing the consultant privately tomorrow to clarify certain points about the operation I shall be having shortly. It’s hard to get over all you want to say during the ten-minute clinic slot, particularly when the guy you’re talking to hasn’t had time to read the notes (understandably). I understand it’s probably a cysto-urethroscopy, which has got to be impressive, hasn’t it?

Went for a curry with the Savignys on Sunday evening, after taking complete control of the service at St Augustine’s in the morning. Met at the King’s Head as usual and went on to the wonderful Ali Tandoori’s for (in my case) a chicken bhuna and mushroom bhaji. Excellent evening.

This time last year I was in hospital, emerging from a very painful post-operative three days. Now I’m waiting for news of when I can have another operation. Bit disappointing, but so many people are worse off that I think I can put up with it. Of course I won’t say that if I die during it. For obvious reasons. It’s actually a much smaller deal and shouldn’t be too much trouble.

Today I visited Welborne Arts Festival – a great event in a little village not far out of Norwich – to see how they had presented the Norwich 20 Group’s Voicing Visions exhibition. Answer: very well. Not everything made it into the tent, but I was more than happy to see that three of my four poems did – and, naturally, three of my four artists’ pictures. The weather was sunny and warm, with forecast showers not materialising, and there was plenty going on. Lots of art, from the very good to the mediocre; sculpture; hazel-weaving; clowns; horses; and an interview with an author. Plus some excellent music from Axel Loughrey (pictured, singing blues, folk and indie with a touch of Velvet Underground); Nappertandy (Irish duo singing and playing traditional Celtic tunes); and Taillevent (a nine-strong group from Brittany who sang Breton maritime songs). Also a very nice atmosphere, and once I again I met the guy who really, really knows me well and I can’t place at all. Spent three hours there and ate a cheese baguette.

Dot meanwhile was in the city with Anne and came home with some excellent cherries from the market, plus a butter dish and some new shoes. Yesterday she visited two schools near the coast and ended up at Gorleston instead of Bradwell. I was about to give her directions to get back when the school sent out the secretary to retrieve her. I spent the day writing my sermon for tomorrow, but also walked to the river bank behind Carrow Road to see if any work was being done on clearing a path. There isn’t. It’s all pretty disgusting: a huge piece of waste ground on which coaches are parked and where people appear to be dumping anything they fancy. Or don’t fancy, I suppose. Pity. It could so easily be turned into a pleasant riverside path.