David and Kristine Coomes during their recent visit. Dot is pointing out local landmarks from St James Hill. At least, I assume that’s what she’s doing.
England duly exited Euro 2012 by managing to stop Italy scoring for 120 minutes but then, as usual, losing on penalties. The guilty players on this occasion were b0th called Ashley, which should have been warning enough. Young hit the bar and Coles’ effort was saved comfortably. Last night Spain beat Portugal on penalties after another 0-0, with Portugal playing above themselves and Ronaldo doing the opposite: he didn’t even take a penalty (one assumes he was meant to go fifth, but it didn’t get that far).
We’ve had some warmer temperatures, but the BBC is having trouble coping, today their website has golden suns all over it for Norfolk, but it’s cloudy and looking as though the threatened “showery rain, sometimes heavy” might well materialise. Hopefully it’s a bit sunnier in London, where Dot and Anne are having fun (one assumes).
Spoke on Sunday about being people after God’s own heart and not worrying about superficial issues: seemed to be well received. Monday night’s PCC was genial and quick, with only Dot and I representing St Aug as usual.
The other major meeting this week was yesterday afternoon: the Paston Trustees. The four of us who made it (Rob was working in London) got through the agenda in about a couple of hours, which I suppose is not bad. Lucy is in one of her rare “quite well” phases, but Jo is looking ill and showing no sign of cutting down on her work: offered the chance of giving the Pensthorpe event a miss this year, she was determined to do it. However, she does want to step down from the not-very-onerous job of being chairperson, so I volunteered Rob in his absence and also offered to help with the newsletter. If Rob isn’t keen, I may get the chair as well.
I arrived early so Lucy took me up on to the roof to see her alpine garden. Impressive, as is the view, especially on a still and warm day. A few inches higher and they would be able to see the sea. Apparently.
My pessimism about England’s football team has so far proved unjustified, but now they’ve reached the quarter-finals, the hype resumes and the players are vowing to put their lives on the line. No, thanks, it’s still just football. Good game, but not war. In further catch-up news the antibiotics haven’t exactly got rid of the tooth infection, but I’m still optimistic.
The weather hasn’t exactly been summery, except for Wednesday, when the sun came out, the temperature rose and we dropped everything and drove to Blakeney, which was basking brilliantly in the unexpected warmth. We had our usual scone and tea in the Blakeney Hotel lounge and followed up with a walk out on to the marshes. I am tempted to use the word idyllic: there, I have. On our return we bought some picture frames in a craft fair and then drove to Cookie’s, where we had a late lunch, followed by a short walk in the Cley nature reserve, where we saw a couple of marsh harriers, among other birds. We returned home in time for a visit from a surveyor who was looking at our house with a view to giving us free insulation. Unfortunately, as I predicted, the operation would have been too tricky and disruptive. End wall too close to neighbour, half of loft too inaccessible.
I completed Rupert Sheldrake’s book (The Science Delusion) in time to hear him speak at Mangreen on Monday evening in the company of Tim Mace and Judy Reynolds: Dot was occupied elsewhere, to her annoyance. The room was full, and Sheldrake spoke very well. Some of hiss ideas are extremely interesting, and it is hard to dispute his basic premise that science is a method of inquiry and not a belief system, though it tends to be portrayed as the latter. The title of his book is clearly designed to create sales by mirroring Dawkins’ The God Delusion, which may alienate some scientists, though Sheldrake himself is a distinguished scientist and does not attack science as such. Good evening, but it’s a pity that the questions, as usual at such events, were really excuses for the usual suspects to put forward their own philosophies instead of querying relevant points.
Another talk on Tuesday, this time by Bishop David Atkinson at the Norwich Christian Resources Centre. Much smaller audience – about 25-30 – and I attended with Tim: female members of the Tuesday Group were at Vicky’s talking about bags. Bishop Atkinson was promoting his new book on Healing in the Church, aiming for a much wider interpretation of healing, which he identified with the Hebrew idea of shalom: inner wellbeing and peace. He focused on the New Testament ideas of love casting out fear and truth setting you free. Here the questions were much more to the point. I bought the book afterwards, but I haven’t read it yet, though I am using one or two of his ideas in my sermon tomorrow!
On Thursday I was disturbed to learn on Facebook that Mark Tuma was heading for Lincoln, as he and his wife were due to come round for an evening meal. I texted him and received the reassuring reply that he fully intended to do both – and he did. Amazing what some people can fit into a day. I bought some rather nice stuff from the supermarket, and we had a good evening.
Dot has had a very busy week writing reports of one kind and another, as well as visiting various schools. On Friday she went for a meeting at Little Plumstead school, where she is going to be a governor. I saw the name of the current chair of governors and deduced that she was a former subs’ runner of mine called Jo Rokahr (now Quarterman). I told Dot to ask her if she played the bagpipes, and it turned out that she did – one of Jo’s more unusual talents. There was a certain amount of reminiscence. Also on the staff is a very nice member of St Luke’s Church who we sat next to at the last joint lunch. Dot also really rates the head teacher, so maybe her governorship could be a good move, though I’m trying to get her to cut down on her work.
She does “relax” sometimes, but when she does it can prove expensive. We are in the process of buying new curtains for the living room (I’m not even going to write down how much that will cost), and this will of course also involve repainting the room. Aargh. There is also going to be some work done in the garden in July. Happily our Devon holiday is now paid for, though there was a nasty moment after I transferred the money and couldn’t get in touch with the owners: their e-mails bounced back, and their phones went to voicemail. Could it be a scam? Well, I suppose it could have been, but it wasn’t. I eventually found a different e-mail address that worked, and all is well. Especially as I’ve now written a tune for Far Cry, my latest song.
Amy hands the crabbing net to her assistant during our visit to Sheringham earlier in the month
Four years ago I was coming out of hospital after my radical prostatectomy operation and feeling very fragile. I would like to say I’m now fighting fit, and indeed a blood test showed last week that there is no sign of the cancer re-emerging. A further test also revealed that my blood pressure has fallen dramatically to 140/75, which is not far off normal. So of course I have to keep taking the pills. But I’m also taking antibiotics at the moment , following root canal work last Tuesday. That seemed to go OK, but the infection still appears to be there; so I thought I’d give the pills a go. Not sure if that was the right decision. What can you do?
Just back from a foray into the city to pay in some cheques and cash for the church. This morning’s rain has gone, and the temperature definitely rose between my leaving the house and getting back again. So perhaps we’re due for another dash of summer. Ran into Sophie, who is resplendently pregnant and looking wonderful, and then the Eagles, who were looking pretty good too and searching for a pirate ship birthday cake. Well, you never know when you’re going to run into one. In fact, I see form the website that M&S sell them, but as I don’t have the Eagles’ mobile number I can’t let them know.
Yesterday we went straight from church to North Walsham, taking in Sainsbury’s, the cemetery and Jessie, in that order. We ate our sandwich lunch in Jessie’s summerhouse with her tea and cakes, which was extremely pleasant, then on the way home we put some flowers on my parents’ grave at the Rosary. Earlier in the week (Monday) I had visited my aunt Josephine, who was on quite good form but looking a little frailer than before Joyce died. On the subject of death, Pete S rang me after I e-mailed him following Jan’s death, and we had a chat.
It was a busy week for Dot, who stayed overnight at The Old Bell at Grimston on Wednesday before inspecting the village school at Ashwicken. B&B highly recommended. She also had various other schools to visit during the week and has just returned from one at Bradwell. Meanwhile England are still in Euro 2012, having beaten Sweden unexpectedly 3-2 and drawing 1-1 with France. Of course when they lose to Ukraine tomorrow, they will still have to go home. In other news, wrote a new song called Far Cry. Quite pleased with it.
And so we emerge from a hectic week…into another one. Dot is already out visiting schools, and I have a visit to the dentist tomorrow and to the doctor on Thursday. The latter doesn’t sound much, but it looms pretty large. There is a root canal involved.
I was in the sunny city, paying in church money, on Wednesday, when Dot called me to say Oliver and Amy wanted to come to us a day early. Naturally, a plan was quickly devised, and with Dot busy finishing a PIB (pre-inspection briefing), I set off to meet David halfway just outside Newmarket near Snailwell – a spot identified on Google maps. All went well, except that halfway there the warm and sunny day evaporated into heavy rain, and I realised I hadn’t brought my anorak or taken my guitar out of the boot. No worries, however: the rain turned back into sun before we met, and there was plenty of room for the children’s luggage.
We had a great three days with the children, despite a bad weather forecast. On the Thursday we went to Sheringham, where it was mild enough to have a picnic on the beach after Oliver and I had climbed Beeston Bump (calling in at Fred’s caravan on the way and finding Liz in situ) and Dot and Amy had done some shopping. We also did a little crabbing, and after I retired defeated, the children “teamed up” with another family, who had bait. As a result, Oliver netted one.
Oliver at the summit of Beeston Bump
We then drove (as a result of a miscalculated and rash promise made earlier) to Winterton, in time to have a quick game of hide-and-seek in the dunes before the rain started, and a few drops quickly turned into a downpour. We repaired to the cafe for refreshment and then rushed wetly to the car. We had taken Dot’s car for a service earlier in the day, but it was now too late (and too wet) to fetch it; so I left it till the next morning. The next morning was also very wet, as was the whole day, and we spent most of it in the house or garage, where Oliver showed an amazing aptitude for table tennis. As he’s very competitive, this wasn’t enough for him: he wanted to win every game too. Meanwhile Amy made a den under the table and did some cooking indoors. We finished the day off with a 6pm meal at Prezzo’s: the children are a real joy to take out – or actually do anything with.
David arrived at lunchtime on Saturday, after being held up because the police had shut the southern bypass after a fatal accident. We had roast beef for lunch, and Oliver did his best to beat Daddy at table tennis when Daddy wasn’t tackling my computer. I popped up to St Peter Hungate at 3.30pm to check that the afternoon session with the visiting viols was going OK. I spoke to Lucy and Jo, both of whom seemed very ill, but didn’t hear the viols, who were taking a break. I went back at 5pm for the rehearsal with Rob, Caroline and Kay, and it went well, so I returned home to say goodbye again, picking up the poetry books I’d forgotten at the same time.
I also went and picked up a music stand from the church hall, at the same time replacing a notice which had either blown off or been ripped off, or both (the wind had been very strong the day before). The evening performance – Heroine of Hungate – took place as David and the children were driving back to Caddington and Dot was cleaning up the house: it did go well, but the audience was very small – only a dozen, including relatives and friends. Hilary came, as did Catherine Mapes. I blame the poor publicity because the viols messed us about (no, we don’t want to perform; yes, we do; no, we can’t do it in the evening….)
Felt totally shattered yesterday morning, but had to leave at 9.30 for the Archdeacon’s Visitation at St Luke’s and a combined service and bring-and-share lunch. Worship music went well, and Dot and I were able to sing three of my songs for the Communion service. The archdeacon, the Ven Jan McFarlane, did a brilliant sermon about writing people off by labelling them: it sounds fairly ordinary, but she did it exceptionally well and brought in all kinds of other stuff.
In the evening our family’s hobnobbing with the senior echelons of the Church of England continued when Dot went to the commissioning service for the new director of Norwich Youth for Christ and met the Bishop, with whom she’s pretty chummy. She pleaded with him not to become Archbishop of Canterbury, and it would indeed be a big loss for Norwich, though probably brilliant for the country at large. I have a great admiration for him (as you probably noticed). She really enjoyed the service, at St Andrew’s Eaton, which I had given a miss in the hope of getting some rest – almost certainly a bad choice. I make a lot of them.
Tenuous royal link: rumoured to be Prince Charles' favourite spot, only a mile or three from his house near Ballater, the Falls of Glenmuick.
A memorable few days watching other people celebrate the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. David and Kristine duly arrived on Saturday, having been held up by the usual tailback at Elveden, and we had a late lunch followed by a walk along the river bank, then up on to St James Hill and back through Lion Wood and the Rosary, trying to avoid street parties in deference to our guests’ preference. The weather was cool, but dry, as it remained following our meal for the walk up to the Maddermarket to see Alan Ayckbourn’s play Time of my Life, with the cast including both Trevor Burton and David Newham, former colleagues at the EDP. Excellent production, ending to David’s mortification with the singing of the national anthem! He suspected I had arranged it, but sadly this was not the case.
We took our guests to church for a relatively jubilee-free service, then had lunch at jubilee-free Prezzos. Following this we caught glimpses of the River Pageant, sloppily covered by the BBC, who told you everything you didn’t want to know and nothing you did. The weather got worse and worse, and it was not much fun for the surprisingly upbeat spectators, one of whom was another former colleague, Ian Bullock. He related (on Facebook) that he stood for for hours on the Embankment, getting colder and wetter, and then when it was all over found that both the Embankment and Charing Cross tube stations were helpfully closed and everyone was converging on Leicester Square. I don’t even want to think about it.
Through it all the Queen was serene and the Duke of Edinburgh was becoming ill. He ended up in hospital on the Monday with a bladder infection, which is not surprising, and missed the Jubilee Concert, which (inevitably, I suspect) was a collection of mediocre songs by people who used to be quite good. It says something that Tom Jones stood out. Felt sorry for Paul McCartney, who looked ill and bemused and was not in good voice. On the plus side, Madness on the palace roof (“Our House”) was a nice idea, the rain had stopped, and Prince Charles (who came out of the whole thing very well) made a speech that was about as good as it could have been. The Coomes had left on Sunday evening after tea.
The thanksgiving service on Sunday was splendidly and traditionally done and went without a hitch, though the Queen looked lonely without the Duke, who was still in hospital. Excellent new anthem – Call to Wisdom – by Will Todd, but as a writer I felt rather annoyed that the author of the words, Michael Hampel, was barely mentioned – rather as no-one knows (or mentions) who wrote the words to The Messiah. All right, I know they’re both basically biblical texts, but they still need to be compiled in some sort of poetic order. The Messiah libretto was written by Charles Jennens, by the way. I expect you knew that.
The Archbishop gave a good sermon on the theme of dedication and commitment, and the hymns were pretty dull, as expected. If you can have a new anthem, why can’t you have the odd modern hymn? The service was followed by a couple of receptions and a lunch, and then a carriage drive to the Palace, a balcony appearance by the Queen, Prince Charles and Camilla, William and Kate and Harry only. Despite gathering rain clouds, the air force did manage a fly-past with the usual beloved suspects. Those Spitfires are really something.
Dot and I watched all this on and off. I slipped out to Morrisons to buy food for the Tuesday Group, which eventually consisted of only six people. Harriet arrived late (no buses) and Vicky left early but had nine hours’ sleep unbroken when she got home. Dot had prayed that she got more sleep. This morning Barbara is here working with Dot, who has a huge amount to do during the next two or three weeks.
Feeling strangely calm. The sun is out, Land of Hope and Glory is playing upstairs, and we are awaiting the arrival of David and Kristine from London. There is the slight worry that they may get delayed by bunting and street parties, but on the whole, I am optimistic. This is despite my incipient abscess, which necessitated a visit to the dentist yesterday. No pain, but definitely something odd going on up there – not at the dentist’s, but in my mouth. The dentist agreed and has booked me in for root treatment. Oh, joy. Still, it’s ten days away. Can’t think about that yet.
Dot has spring-cleaned the entire house, and we cleaned out Waitrose yesterday. I’m not normally tempted by food, but Waitrose is another matter. It all looks so interesting. Before that we visited the charity shop, the tip and the East Europeans who run the car wash on Aylsham Road. The latter are frighteningly efficient: they also vaccuumed the interior, and all in about 15 minutes. While we were there an expensive car drew up and three sinister men emerged. Made me wonder if the advertised “Polish Protection” was what it seemed.
I should explain that there was a free Elgar CD with the Telegraph last weekend. The funeral of Dot’s friend Jan was in Reading yesterday. Keep thinking about her husband Pete – a really nice bloke. Spent some time trying to find an obituary notice online, but in vain: eventually Dot rang the house and spoke to someone (possibly Pete’s father) to discover that they didn’t want flowers. So will be sending a donation to charity instead.
