Dot got an iPod from David for her birthday. Amy and Oliver were fascinated.
Cold and wet today; ventured into the city before lunch to make inquiries at the bank. Was amazed to discover that if I want to send money to someone in the United States I cannot do it online but have to obtain some kind of money order which, if I can’t get bank details from the payeee, will cost me £25. I then have to post it to the States. How archaic is that?
Dot’s car is up on jacks in the driveway and has been since last Friday, when Wicked Wheels came and revealed that they couldn’t match the colour without taking the wheels away. There is some damage to the rims, and Dot is having them done as a Christmas present. So they took the wheels away, leaving the car very vulnerable: have to say I’m quite nervous about it, but only two days to go now. Meanwhile we were also going to get her computer upgraded, as it’s very low on memory, but the quote we have for that is over £200, so now we’re wondering about getting a new Macbook Pro. Will have to consult my technical expert.
Went to the Muspole Street private view on Thursday evening and bought a couple of small things in return for some rather pleasant mulled wine. Some very creative stuff going on there. Problem with art: you can’t just keep on buying it. Joe and Birgit came round on Saturday, and we had a good meal which more than made up for Norwich City losing 3-1 to Carlisle in the second round of the F A Cup. This was a neat trick, as it avoided them going out in the third round, which is what they normally do. Why are they such an appalling cup team? Answers on a postcard…
Yesterday I found myself leading a Communion service, with John Easton playing the role of vicar. Because of widespread absenteeism and Rosemary’s fragility, I was landed with taking the Cup round, which I’ve never done before. It may be illegal, but John didn’t seem to think so. Anyway, I managed to avoid dropping it. In the evening we supplied the pizza for Ambient Wonder, and I didn’t realise that one of them was half polystyrene, so it stuck to the pan. Not terminally, I’m glad to say.
Part of the disused Cumberland Hotel, victim of an arson attack this month
Yesterday we were intending to take part in “Just This Day” – an attempt to unite as many people as possible in silent meditation at some point, spilling over into prayer for the world, particularly justice. We did sort of take part, but it didn’t turn out the way I anticipated. For a start the silence was mainly not only in the morning but in bed, as we were both exhausted after three or four busy days. Does silence while asleep count? I was viewing the rest of the day as a sort of sabbath, where I was abstaining from my normal technological output for a long time and generally keeping things restful and low key, which I guess a day of rest is supposed to be about. We listened to a DVD on body prayer, which didn’t quite do it for me, though it had its points, and Dot discovered a couple of versions of the Lord’s Prayer in Aramaic on a CD, which I did find extremely interesting. In fact, I’m thinking of inserting one of them into our Christmas event. Dot and I also went out for a walk along Thorpe Road, up Cotman Road and eventually back across the Rosary. Lovely crisp autumn day, with a nice sunset. Watched too much TV in the evening, though.
Today Dot is supposed to be writing her report following the inspection on Tuesday, so of course she’s clearing up the house and doing some washing. I’ve cleared up another binful of leaves, the current one having been emptied at lunchtime. It’s the time of year when fortnightly collections just aren’t enough.
This is a picture of the City Hall lights mentioned in my last post. You can just about see the room I worked in for a couple of years: 1964 and 1965, to be precise, when I was a junior clerk in the city treasurer’s audit department. Often wonder what might have happened if I hadn’t left for London and a career in journalism. No contacts left from that time, though I had friends there: David Brown and Robin Larke among others. Not to mention Mimi, Jean, Sally, and Pam. Odd how two years of your life leaves no apparent residue – though I do still have the bookcase they gave me when I left. It is behind me as I write.
Had a great weekend with David and the children, although I was not feeling at my best. After dark on Saturday we went by bus up to St Stephen’s and then walked through Chapelfield Mall and across to the Forum, where they had a tall Christmas tree instead of an icing rink. To be honest, I was not terribly impressed: all it had was white lights. The children seemed quite happy though: the City Hall lights were much more striking, changing colour every minute or so. Walked home via the Arcade and London Street. Had home-made fish and chips (sausage for Amy) which I cooked, as it was Dot’s birthday weekend.
On the Sunday I had to preach and play guitar. Had found some interesting information about Hebrew letters and the first verse of the Bible, among other things. One of the congregation, who is studying poetry at UEA, was very interested and asked for more information, which I e-mailed to her later. Went to Prezzo’s for very good lunch, during which there was a fierce squall – high wind and fierce rain – outside. Happily it had passed by the time we went home, but the weather was still not good enough to go our in the afternoon, so we spent it playing games and watching a bit of football on television.
On Monday I didn’t see Dot after she departed to visit Barbara at about 3pm until late in the evening: she went on from Barbara’s to a governors’ meeting at Gillingham, and I played chess at the club against King’s Lynn. I didn’t play too well and eventually blundered a piece. The team won, but an extra point would have been useful. Today Dot has been out again, this time at Swaffham for a church school inspection. I’ve been preparing for Tuesday Group, but have also entered four poetry competitions.
Experimental picture taken after dark at Aldeburgh and digitally altered in a pretty basic way. Quite like it.
Awaiting the arrival of David and grandchildren: weather mild. Have just been out briefly to book Prezzo’s for lunch tomorrow. Earlier I cleared up some more leaves: I’m becoming something of an expert. Last night was a big success: for Dot’s birthday dinner we went with the Robinsons to the Norfolk Mead hotel at Coltishall and had an excellent meal. Also very relaxed and quiet, so pretty well perfect. Afterwards we came out to see a sky full of bright stars. Magical.
Have just finished my talk for Sunday on Christ the King. Found it difficult to prepare, because I kept getting bogged down in fascinating byways as to the true meaning of certain words in the Hebrew and Aramaic. Have rewritten first verse of Genesis to read: At source, God filled the skies and the earth as an ox moving the plough towards its mark. Not exactly traditional; I may not mention it tomorrow. On the other hand…
Managed to draw my chess game on Wednesday by winning a pawn in the opening and getting a big advantage, then letting my opponent off the hook. Quite happy really, because he’s graded higher than me. Drove the entire team down there, so very late back. Meanwhile, Dot went to a DCC meeting, so she had to tell me all about it. Result: very late in bed.
Lots of activity on internet about leaked e-mails from UEA climate scientists which seem to reveal fiddling of data and some rather unpleasant tactics to silence sceptics. Phil Jones of UEA has apparently admitted they’re genuine. Will be interesting to see how the BBC manages to ignore this. By ignoring it, I suppose.
Ali Hollingsworth and Annette at the Peter Pears Gallery
The wind has returned, but accompanied today by quite mild temperatures. I have just been outside clearing up leaves, with other leaves dancing around me. Quite fun. Meanwhile Dot has gone off to make a delivery at a school in Horsford, followed by a visit to the NYFC Christmas sale in Cringleford. Not sure what the latter is, exactly, but Dot feels she has to go, as she’s a trustee. Last night the Archers hosted the Tuesday Group, and we gave Matt a lift. He lent me The Defense, by Vladimir Nabokov, which I would already have started if Joy had not sent me The Chymical Wedding, which I am enjoying. Nice to have a good novel on the go and another waiting. Wrote a poem yesterday, but I’m not too sure about it.
On Monday I scored the second luckiest win of my chess career when I avoided a perpetual check because I thought I saw a win, and was then totally lost. I set one last trap, and for once my opponent fell into it. I am playing again this evening – at Diss, for the B team, and I don’t think my luck can continue much longer. I have won four games in a row.
Dot and Annette look at one of Ali's books at the Orford Ness exhibition.
Severe weather turned out not to be as severe in Norfolk as elsewhere, so we were able to travel south on Saturday, first to pick up Annette and Mike from Burston, near Diss, and then to proceed onwards to Aldeburgh. There had been heavy rain overnight, and it was certainly pretty windy, but no real problem until we almost got back to Burston, when we picked up a small but persistent branch underneath the car. I extracted it later by torchlight. The journey down through Suffolk was easy enough, and it was nice to return to Aldeburgh so soon. We were there to see the Orford Ness 2009 exhibition, in which friend Martin Laurance was exhibiting, He and his friend Ali Hollingsworth were part of the Stone Eye group, who had been given unusual access to Orford Ness by the National Trust in order to respond to it artistically. The result was an impressive exhibition – some brilliant paintings from Martin, and some quiet different but also fine work from Ali, who also makes books, combining words and pictures. Martin and Ali were invigilating, and we had quite a chat with them both. The show was in the Peter Pears gallery, which was totally transformed from when we saw it as part of the Poetry Festival: now open, airy and perfect for showing the work.
We drove back in the dark, but the rain had eased until it had almost stopped, and the wind has also dropped. Had curry with Mike and Annette and a long talk to the accompaniment of Leonard Cohen. Tried to persuade them to join Twitter, but don’t think I got very far. Annette showed us some of her new work, and so did Mike. His drawings are absolutely brilliant. If there were any justice, he would be making loads of money. Got back to Norwich earlier than I’d expected because I was going by the clock on their DVD recorder, which was still BST. Still, that was probably a Good Thing. Quiet day today after a good Holy Communion this morning. Music seemed to go well.
Ventured out into soggy but mild morning so that the dentist could clean my teeth – which with the advance in dentistry is now more painful than root canal work. Not that I want root canal work… Happily my teeth seem to be OK, and so do Dot’s. She went earlier in the week. We’re both feeling quite a bit better, despite having a very late night last night. Sue, Roger, Julia and Allan came round for a truly delicious meal prepared by my talented wife, who also cleaned the house from top to bottom. Literally. I always feel uneasy when this happens: I’m not sure it’s because I suspect I might be cleaned up or because I feel guilty about not working as hard as she is. Not that I ever do. She has 75% of the energy in this house. In addition to all the above, she also spent most of the morning at a school in Horsford, while I wandered up to the city to buy her a birthday present, pay the newspaper bill and get a couple of keys cut. Had lengthy chat with Big Issue seller who has just obtained a place in a hostel at Wymondham, away from people who are a bad influence on him. Hope it works out.
Poet Joy has sent me a copy of The Chymical Wedding, which looks interesting. Paul phoned me up about an angler named Paul Lenton who appeared in the newspaper, having caught something fishy at Doddington. He seemed quite interested when I suggested we could go and look at the Lenton / Archer graves at Yaxley and in Northamptonshire. He also told me Thelma’s maiden name: Harrop.
Dot got back from Ipswich on Monday just in time to grab a lightning-fast bite and then head off to Cringleford for a meeting, while I headed in the other direction to the chess club, where I managed to win my game on Board 6 in a Norfolk & Suffolk Cup match against Yarmouth. Final score 5-1 to us, which makes a nice change. Finished reasonably early but stayed on to watch others after analysing the game with my opponent.
On Tuesday Dot was off to Suffolk again for a business meeting with Barbara, and I wasted far too much time doing too little, though I did write a poem I was quite pleased with. Sent it to my poet friend Joy, who was very nice about it. She is in a bad way with bronchitis, which is unpleasant enough in itself, but she has so much else wrong with her following a disastrous motorcycle accident. Have almost finished the Christmas service – a combination of poetry, drama, readings and carols, one of which I wrote the other day. In the evening we had a very good Tuesday Group meeting: seven seems to be the perfect number. Oh, and during the day I did an hour’s worth of leaf-clearing, much to my wife’s delight.
Today neither of us felt too well: a combination of headiness and slight nausea, but not enough to stop us carrying on. Dot even went to the dentist, though she was relieved when I offered to drive her. In the evening we went to a PCC meeting which happily lasted only half an hour. Good atmosphere. Both of us feel a bit better now and are about to round off the evening by watching a little television. Bit worried about grandson Oliver, who has a bad cold and has been sick a couple of times, but he seems to be improving. David has not been too good either, but he also seems to be better.
The walk into the city last Thursday turned into a bit of a disaster towards the end when for no apparent reason my ankle turned over on Castle Meadow and I fell headlong. Managed to avoid serious injury by turning it into a forward roll, but my ankle was quite sore for a while, though it ‘s much better now. Food from M&S went flying, but that too avoided serious damage. Got bus home and had worries over the weekend trip to Aldeburgh, but miraculously the ankle was nowhere near as bad as I’d feared and hardly affected what we did.
Gentle journey south on Friday afternoon, interrupted by calling at Marion’s in Alburgh to order a Christmas cake. Arrived at Blaxhall before the light failed and found our cottage – Nelson’s Studio – without difficulty. Very rural setting, out in the wilds, though only about three miles from Snape. It was about the tiniest cottage I’ve been in, but brilliantly organised and surprisingly comfortable. It was approached up a very narrow path of large pebbles that was not too easy to negotiate for someone with a dodgy ankle – or anyone else, for that matter. But you could walk on the adjacent grass. Inside there was a small kitchen, a compact living area and a normal-sized loo and shower. Extremely narrow stairs led up to a sleeping area just big enough for a double bed and small wardrobe. Sounds claustrophobic, but we enjoyed it, though we did wonder how anyone a bit wider or a bit less mobile than us would have coped.
After taking the small amount of luggage in, we drove to Snape and Aldeburgh to work out where the venues were for the Poetry Festival. Aldeburgh is a very attractive small town which has the feeling of being extremely vulnerable to the sea: almost no protection. Lovely old houses, many idiosyncratic, and a relaxed atmosphere. Great place to live if you were sure the sea was going to stay where it was. In the evening we had a meal at the Plough and Sail at Snape. I’ve always loved the setting at Snape, and the meal matched it: really delicious.
The next day we’d set aside for the poetry festival, and I’d bought tickets for three events (total £54 for both of us). The first was at a fairly civilised 10.45am, and we were so on the ball that we were first in the queue at the Jubilee Hall. The tickets did not reserve seats, so I was bit worried about getting a decent spot, but we did well each time. The first and longest session was a reading by three poets: Ciaran Berry, David Morley and Maureen Duffy. Berry was not a good reader, and his poems were a bit too prosey for my taste, though he had some interesting ideas and lots of content; Morley was the best reader of the three and very “poetic”, making fascinating use of the Romany language which, he told us later in the day when we bumped into him, has its origins in Sanskrit, the original Romanies being a Hindu warrior caste; Duffy was quite interesting, but did not make a huge impression – perhaps I was tiring.
After this we returned to the cottage to watch Norwich beat Paulton Rovers 7-0 in the FA Cup (the unintentional timing worked out surprisingly well) while having a snack. That was us having a snack, not Norwich City, though they could probably have managed it. After the first ten minutes or so, it was a bit of a stroll. We returned to Aldeburgh for the highlight of the festival for me – an all-new reading by Geoffrey Hill. He starts with the advantage of an amazingly rich, deep voice, adds to it poetry of huge depth and structural complexity (with obscure Eliot-like references, many of which he explained), and a wonderful sense of humour. An immense figure in the poetic world, and I was delighted to have heard him. I don’t know anyone who can compare with him.
Forgot to mention that we saw Caroline Gilfillan at the first session, and I was surprised she wasn’t at this one, but of course it was sold out. After the 35 minutes we headed into town and found an excellent fish and chip restaurant, the Golden Galleon, on the High Street. Good quality and amazing speed of service, giving us time to call into a couple of exhibitions, which were not exactly compelling (though the quality of the photography in one was first-class) but gave us a chance to see the other two venues: the Peter Pears Gallery and the Cinema Gallery. We then wandered up to the final venue at the White Lion Hotel, where we had trouble attracting the interest, or even presence, of a barperson, but eventually had a quick drink before hearing David Constantine talk compellingly on Brecht as a poet. Good stuff, but I’m never sure that translations of Brecht really work: he relied a lot on the poetic sound of quite ordinary phrases in German, and they don’t make the journey into English too well. The ideas are good, though.
Wandered out into the night (which was when we ran into David Morley and had a brief chat) and then drove home, noticing the startling brightness of the starry sky, first in Aldeburgh but much more so in Blaxhall, where there was practically no other light visible. Eventually went in and watched a film – Sex in the City – before catching a bit of football and then squeezing up to bed.
Dot at Orford: bright and breezyWalberswick
Rained hard in the night, but the next day, like the previous one, dawned bright and pretty much stayed that way, though the occasional cloud drifted across. In the sun it was warm, and we sat outside an Orford cafe for our tea/coffee and cake, served disturbingly by a guy with a bad cold. Took in the ambience of a beautiful little town and walked from the quay along the water’s edge before cutting back up to the castle. Shut, of course, but often they’re better like that, and its outside shape was impressive, like a high rectangular block. Bought some fresh cod from the quayside before heading north, past Leiston Abbey before arriving at Yoxford in a bid to find somewhere Dot and Barbara could have lunch on their way down to Ipswich – well, about now, actually. No luck there (the ideal spot turned out not to serve lunch on Mondays) so we headed north again and finally found the White Hart at Blythburgh, which was so ideal that we stopped there for a drink before heading to Walberswick for a stroll on the beach and around the harbour in perfect autumn weather. Then spent some time reconnoitering the route Dot would take today from Blundeston to Blythburgh to meet Barbara – before heading home via Beccles. Found that our Humax had failed to record anything and stuck itself again, which was a bit irritating. We tried to watch Merlin on BBC iPlayer, but that encountered bandwidth problems and I was invited to download the iPlayer desktop, which I did, successfully. Must have been magic. I blame Merlin.
Later, after I had gone to an excellent Ambient Wonder Remembrance event, we watched Garrow and Match of the Day 2 live to avoid any further problems, but naturally the Humax recorded them OK. And then stuck again at 8am today. Machines – don’t you love ’em? Dot has just rung to say she has arrived at the White Hart, so it was all worthwhile. Brilliant sunshine there, raining here.
My aunt Thelma (left) with her husband Paul and his sister Dorothea, sadly also no longer with us.
The funeral for my Aunt Thelma was held in South Park Church on Tuesday, just after lunch. The heavy rain turned into a downpour as the service concluded, and there was general reluctance to leave the church. Eventually I made a dash for the car, which I’d parked strategically opposite the door, and got the umbrella for Dot. We also gave a lift to Mitch, my cousin Stephen’s son, who needed to get to Unthank Road. The burial was at the Rosary (in Dorothy’s grave), and by the time we got there (I overtook the hearse on the way, which is probably a Bad Thing) the rain had dropped back to merely heavy, then steady. We had a brief few words around the grave from Jason Griffiths, the assistant pastor at Surrey, who had taken the service, and then went home. There was a very private “wake” at my cousin Mark’s, but only closest family were invited. Phil and Joy came round to ours for an hour or so. I would have liked more of an opportunity to talks to my cousins and to Catherine, Pat’s daughter, who we had got to know quite well at the celebration we went to in London. I would also have liked the chance to talk to a few of the congregation at Park, who I knew when I was very young, but it didn’t work out that way.
The church was quite full for the service, with Molly Wurr on the organ. All Paul’s children were there, of course: Pat and her husband Brian; Stephen and his wife Anita; and Mark and his wife Julie. Some grandchildren too, notably Catherine and Mitch. Don’t really know the others. As well as Dot and I and Phil and Joy, Joe was there, as was my Aunt Kathleen and I think Aunt Josephine, though I’m not positive. During the morning it suddenly occurred to me that my cousin Barbara might not know about it, so I gave her a ring. She didn’t know, so I’m glad I got in touch. Paul gave a long talk which covered Thelma’s birthplace (Stapleford, in Nottinghamshire, which I think has connections with the Evetts) and the way they met, as well as their life together. Learned a few things: her middle name was Eveline, for instance. He concluded with an evangelistic appeal which only just stopped short of inviting people to come to the front and left me a bit worried about how Jason would follow that with the sermon. But he did very well.
Yesterday morning had a couple of long phone calls, from my cousin Ann in Liverpool and from our friend Sharon at Alpington, then another one in the afternoon from Anne Robinson. In between the piano tuner came, at a civilised hour for a change, and pronounced the machine in good nick. After lunch, which Dot spent with Carrie, Nicholas came round and discussed his book, as well as the situation at St Luke’s. Not sure I was too helpful in either case, though I was supportive. He does things completely different from the way I would do them, but I think he’s done really well and has some great gifts. Also he tries to see things God’s way, which can’t be bad.
Dot has just returned from Long Stratton and is planning a post-prandial stroll into the city, partly to buy a new pan and coffee-grinder. I might go with her.
