Monthly Archives: August 2012

High winds and rain lead to abandoning walk

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Captain Oliver on the rocks

Dot had a bad night on Monday, with much coughing, but she was determined to get to Morston Hall in the evening. Roger drove us so that I could have a drink or two, and the meal was as always excellent, exceeded in quality only by the service. Dot survived well enough, though her throat is very sensitive to vinegar at times like these, and she had one attack (and a much worse one earlier in the day). It is now Friday, and she is almost better. She is preparing a meal tonight for Roger and Barbara (who are in Essex again during the day) and Anne and Philip, who are joining us at 7pm.

We had another first-class meal yesterday, though I made a tactical error which made it rather less special for me. It was at the Ship Inn, Brancaster. I led with a “small” caesar salad and then went for fish and chips which, although very tasty, was far too big a portion, and I had to leave most of the chips and omit the sweet. The others made more judicious choices and raved about it. Once again, the service was first class, and there were vows to return.

Originally, this had been planned as a light lunch to precede a Walking event from Holkham – part of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. But the weather was so atrocious, and both Dot (especially) and Roger so below par, that in combination with Barbara’s sensitivity to to any temperature below really hot, we were persuaded to abandon the idea. This turned out to be the right decision in so many ways. Exceptionally high winds and driving rain would have made the walking awful even if we had been fit, and it would have been a big rush to get there after the Ship. So that was all good, then – which reminds me, we have already got through both series of Twenty Twelve on DVD, much to the Murrays’ delight. Last night we started on Dollhouse.

The weather generally has been fickle. On Wednesday Roger, Barbara and I had a long walk in the morning while Dot rested, and we took in the Rosary, Lion Wood, part of Mousehold and a large proportion of the Riverside Walk, plus the Cathedral loos and St Andrew’s Hall. It amounted to over six miles. Dot was keen to go to Cromer in the afternoon, so after lunch we set out despite a bad forecast, and got to Cromer just as it started to rain. We bought some fruit and vegetables on the way to the pier, but by the time we reached the sea front the rain was coming down in a quite determined fashion. We had a brief shot at the museum, but in the end I went and got the car and picked them up from in front of the church (traffic through the town was as always awful), driving home through driving rain.

In other news, I have had a couple of e-mails from a Jennifer Lenton in Australia who asked me about my family history. As a result of information she supplied, I am now led to believe that my great-great-great grandfather was one Thomas Lenton, who died in 1806 while working at Woburn Abbey in Bedfordshire and who is related to the said Jennifer. His son William seems to be the one whose tombstone is in Folksworth churchyard. Some more research needed there, though once you get back to 1800, sources are few and far between.

Arrangements for rebuilding our living room are now sorted out: furniture removal Monday, asbestos removal Tuesday, rebuilding ceiling Wednesday; redecoration the following Monday. Sounds like a barrel of laughs.

Long journey into Norfolk

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Oliver gets down to some serious photography

Later on the 22nd, I walked up the hill and along the path to Ilfracombe, which opened up to give nice views. Met the craft shop crew on the way back, and later in the day we all went to Woolacombe again. It was cooler and windier than before, but still pleasant enough for me to go into the sea with Oliver and Amy as they did some surfing: Dot hired an extra board for Amy, and I quite enjoyed myself.

Afterwards we took everything away from the beach hut and locked up, but it was too late to deposit the key, so Dot and I dropped it in the next morning, reclaiming the deposit. We then continued down the coast to Croyde, where I had spent a holiday as a child, but nothing rang a bell. It wasn’t far, but it was a very slow journey because of the narrow roads. When one queue met another queue, things got tricky, especially when there was a bus involved.

In the afternoon we all went down to the cove as the tide went out and made our way quite a good distance along the beach, looking for paths between the rocks that avoided deep pools. Amy took on the role of tour guide for a while, and Oliver took lots of photographs. He has a good eye for an effective picture. On the way back I took a different route and ended up having to jump the river, wall to wall.

In the evening we all went down to the Grampus for a meal, preceded by some outdoor table tennis. The food was exceptionally good: Oliver and I had steaks, and Roger had a second slice of banoffee pie. Very pleasant pub, to be recommended, which I did in the Daymer Cottage Guest Book.

Elegant Amy, at ease in any situation

On the Friday it rained as we packed up the cars, but it eased off as we left, about 9.45am. It was a bank holiday weekend, so the traffic was predictably bad, but we managed to stay together for the first services on the M4, where we had lunch and said goodbye to David and the children. We still stayed more or less together, though, until they left the M25 at the M1 junction. The M25 hadn’t been too bad (though it was pretty solid going the other way) until then, but it was getting worse as we reached the A1, so I took that route, up to Baldock and along the A505 to the A11. We managed to keep moving well enough until we reached Barton Mills, where there was a queue leaving the roundabout, so we took the normal evasive action through some nice Suffolk countryside and arrived home around 6pm.

On Saturday we decided to go to the Maddermarket for a production of A Murder is Announced, by Agatha Christie. This was remarkable in that it is the first time I have been to a play at the Maddermarket that was badly acted; it was pretty amateurish all round, and it was hard to know where to pin the blame. The director? Key roles? On the bright side, I ran into a couple of ex-Archant library people: Maureen Green and Frances Pearce. Had quite a long chat with Frances, who now lives in Aurania Avenue, behind my childhood home in Brian Avenue.

Yesterday I led the service, and Howard preached about the nature of holy places (everywhere). Unfortunately Dot had developed a sore throat and wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed in bed. However, she managed to come with us to the King’s Head and Ali Tandoori in the evening, with Heather and Simon, and we had a really good time.

Today Dot stayed in bed till late, but then got up, though she isn’t much better. The sore throat is less severe, but she’s developed a cough. Barbara and Roger have been visiting her sister and are just back (6.30pm). I cleaned the car out, getting rid of most of the sand, and did some food shopping. Also caught up with email backlog and the post. Now I will get us all some tea.

Amy on the rocks

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Oliver, Amy and Dot by the river on Lee beach

Much windier today, and a bit cooler. Yesterday David and Oliver went for a long walk with Barbara; Roger did some photography on the beach; and Dot, Amy and I explored in the cove at very low tide, discovering new routes among the rocks and getting further along the beach amid a moon-type landscape.

Amy showed herself very adept at scrambling: as the rocks were sharp and high, this was quite alarming at times, but she seemed to have good judgement of what she was capable of. Later, we all went out for another walk: I took a slightly different route and took some photographs by the harbour wall, where the sea was rolling in.

After a Lighthouse breakfast with mimosas, the keener among us are off for a walk to the craft shop, and Roger and I are holding the fort.

Sand, surfing, rocks and caves

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Amy and Oliver head down the hill to Lee harbour

Halfway through our week at Daymer Cottage. The Murrays and Dot have just left for Barnstaple to do more food shopping, and David and Oliver are playing a card game that Amy has invented. It’s intricate, but it works. I spent an hour playing it with her yesterday. Amazing creativity.

It’s overcast again, but we’ve had some very good weather as well as some rain. We discovered that we were entitled to the use of a beach hut at Woolacombe, which is a huge sandy beach beset by much surfing. We drove there down narrow lanes late on Saturday and managed to park solely because so many people were leaving. Dot obtained the beach hut key from the shop and we found the hut – Number 43, Myrtle – a bit of a trudge down the beach.

We returned yesterday for most of the day (parking £7 per car), and the children enjoyed it very much. It was warm, and the tide was exceptionally low: quite an expedition to reach it. Loads of surfing going on, and the children were able to use the board we found at the house. There were so many people on the beach that we kept losing each other, but the children were quite capable of finding the hut on their own. During the day we bought ice cream, and then chips, from stalls on the beach.

Sunday started grey, but became warm and sunny. We spent most of it down at Lee Bay, which expands dramatically when the tide is out. Loads of rocks and rock pools, and the children especially enjoyed a river that channels down across the beach. Oliver and I (with Roger) had reconnoitred the previous day and found a path to another cove: now the tide was far enough out to reach it across the rocks.

We found a cave and Oliver did much climbing on the rocks. The more vigorous among us decided we would all climb the steps up to the cliff at the far end and walk back round by the road: quite strenuous, but different. Back at the cove Dot and I stayed for an hour or so as the tide came in, until the small space remaining was overrun by dogs.

The house is delightful, with great views of the Bristol Channel and, in clear conditions, Wales. A few boats and kayaks pass at low tide.

Difficult journeys but spectacular views

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Dot at Lulworth Cove: hotel in background

Sitting in our lounge at Daymer Cottage, Lee, North Devon. It’s getting dark, the children and the Murrays have gone to bed, and the lights are coming on in what I suppose must be Wales. Amazing clifftop situation with a great view.

We arrived at about 3.30pm after a rather fraught journey from Lulworth Cove, using lesser roads to avoid traffic but thereby lengthening the journey. Dot felt ill after much delicate navigating, so we resorted to the main roads around Axminster and made reasonable progress north-westwards, though the traffic remained heavy. Meanwhile the Murrays and David had an even harder time of it, with David badly delayed by full motorways.

Our welcome supper arrived just after 6pm. Oliver and I took some photographs outside (rather nice setting sun), while Amy posed.

We had spent a couple of nights at Lulworth, where I had booked bed and breakfast at the Lulworth Mill House. We found ourselves in an annexe called the Boat House, with a fantastic view of the cove. I suspected this was a mistake, and so it proved, but we were able to keep the room (though it wasn’t cleaned on the Thursday, for which we got a £20 reduction). Two good meals too, in the Dandelion bistro, which turned out to be the same place.

Had to park quite a way from the hotel, but we did get a season ticket for the main parking area at Lulworth Cove, so that wasn’t too bad. Spectacular coastline. On the Thursday the weather was fine enough for us to walk the very steep hill path to Durdle Door, where we lingered awhile and saw a snake.

We returned to Lulworth for a cream tea (forgetting that I hate clotted cream) before driving via Weymouth to Portland for a great view of Chesil beach and the Olympic marina as it began to rain. Drove on to Portland Bill and the lighthouse, monolith and Pulpit Rock, where I took some nice pictures during a lull in precipitation. Very good day altogether, marred only slightly by dozy Dorset drivers.

Weather has been rather better than anticipated. Missed most of the heavy rain, and it remains warm.

Life-changing Australian poet

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Not an Australian poet, but Andrew on the beach at Winterton

A quiet few days in terms of getting out of the house, but of course the Olympics were coming to a climax and Dot was also – well – reaching the apogee of her house-cleaning programme preparatory to welcoming the Murrays when we return from Devon. The house now looks terrific and I am beginning to relax a bit. The weather has been good.

Have been out a bit, though. Yesterday, after our regular haircut, I rendezvoused with Lisa D’Onofrio and had a late lunchlet at Waterstone’s. As literature development officer back in 2003, she opened the door for me to take part in a poetry project which eventually turned into InPrint, and so changed my life, transforming me from a closet poet into a real one. She is a really good poet in her own right, but she is now living in Australia, her home country. We had a good 90 minutes of reminiscence and catching-up, following which I bought a new pair of trainers.

On Sunday Dot and I went to see Jessie after visiting the cemetery at North Walsham. It was actually a bit warm to sit in her summerhouse, so we moved indoors for scones and strawberries. She seems very well, apart from family worrries.

Last night I had my second game of chess this calendar year – a bizarre affair in the first round of the club knockout tournament. I got a clear advantage fairly early on and should have won, but I was too timid, blundered and then he was clearly winning. But he dropped a piece, and I got the advantage again, but couldn’t make anything of an extra pawn in a queen ending. So we have to play again in September. Not a classic. However, I picked up my prize for best game played at the club last season, which turned out to be a£25 John Lewis voucher – more than 100% larger than I thought it would be.

The Olympics has now ended, but it lingers on in the newspapers and on TV. After a brilliant opening ceremony, the closing ceremony was very poor musically (two songs from George Michael and Russell Brand singing a Beatles song – is that the best we can do?) though it did end with The Who, bringing a bit of belated class to the proceedings. Someone said that before the Olympics, everyone thought we were poor at sport but brilliant at music: now…

Great-great-great-great, probably

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Andrew at Stow Mill

The Olympics are almost over, which means I shall be able to get back to a more ordered lifestyle, whatever that is. Keep popping upstairs to just miss crucial moments, and then sit on sofa for hours while nothing much happens. Watched open-water swimming yesterday, and now feel much more favourably towards the synchronised stuff. At least you know what’s going on, even if you don’t want to.

Some good moments, though. Mo Farah and Jessica Ennis, for instance. But I find myself really interested in people who do well but don’t win the gold, like the American Rupp, who finished second in the 10,000 metres and Yohan Blake in the 100m and 200m; and I’ve never felt so impressed by someone who finished last as by Andrew Osagie in the 800m, whose time would have won gold in any other Olympics.

Anyway. We now have a date for the work to be done in the living room – it will happen in the week after we return from holiday. The only thing that hasn’t been confirmed yet is the furniture removal on the Monday. But at least two people apart from me are pushing the insurance company to arrange it. The living room has remained watertight, and the sheet is still in place. Mr Bunn the Builder hasn’t given me a date yet for the roof work, but the timing there is not critical.

Various redecoration and replacement work is still in progress. The new curtains for the living room and the bedroom were put up yesterday and look excellent. Dot is now painting a wall of the cloakroom and I have put a couple of certificates up on the wall of the study. Meanwhile Andrew has been to stay with us.

Phil and I picked him up on Monday, which was his 64th birthday, and got him to Norwich in time for a birthday meal. Joy and Phil joined us, so there were five of us at Rushcutters for excellent food and a very efficient waitress, too. As we arrived back home for coffee, the Robinsons were driving down the road – returned to pick up their car after watching boxing at the Olympics – and so we invited them to join us, which rounded off the evening nicely. Andrew spent some time talking to Philip R towards the end…

Tuesday turned out fine and mild, so I took Andrew for a tour of the coast. We had a walk at Winterton (beach out, valley in), then some food in the cafe. We then drove up via Sea Palling and Hempstead (where Dot’s mum was born) to Happisburgh, where we parked on the new car park and went to the new loos. Andrew was a bit too tired to walk down the ramp to the beach, so we continued to Mundesley, where I drove to the cliff edge, then back to Stow windmill. Looked round the mill and climbed to the top, which Andrew quite enjoyed, I think.

On Wednesday it turned out that Andrew needed some new shoes, so we went to Clarke’s and bought him a pair for best and one for everyday. The iconic wherry Albion was moored at riverside, so we took a look. Philip called just before lunch with Andrew’s present. Following the remains of the roast chicken I had cooked the previous day, the two of us left for Coventry at 2.15pm in good weather. We called at Folksworth on the way to see our great-great-grandparents’ grave, and I noticed that the owners of an adjacent grave were probably our great-great-great-great-grandparents. The latter would have been born around 1760.

Straightforward journey, despite the lorry irritation factor. Called at Cambridge Services on the way back to find that they had deteriorated to such an extent, and so quickly, that the toilets were unusable. Sad. They started so well.

I have omitted Sunday, which was a full day. I dropped some stuff off at the Vicarage at about 11am, then picked up Phil at 11.45, packing all our instruments in the car with him and Dot. Quite a tight fit. We then proceeded to Potter Heigham, where we embarked on a church boat trip (six boats)  to St Benet’s Abbey. I was a bit worried about sinking, as we had the massive Ian in our boat, but it turned out all right, once he had managed to board it. Sadly conditions at St Benet’s Abbey were such that he (wisely) didn’t try to make it to the field where the annual service was taking place and remained in the boat. There was torrential rain just after we arrived, but by the time those of us who could get out of the boat did so, it had slackened off, and there was only the occasional drop during the service itself, at which the Bishop preached (very well, as always). Afterwards we made a quick getaway and had a really nice sail back to Potter Heigham in sunshine and sudden warmth.

Dot needed a cup of teat at Potter Heigham, and so we crossed the bridge and found a pub at which there were only to good things: the tea and the barmaid. No ambience to speak of, and a noisy crowd of young men buying lots of lager. But the barmaid was pleasant and intelligent, so that was all good.

Potter Heigham to Lowestoft took longer than I thought it would, but we arrived at the Seagull  in good time to rehearse our songs, and the evening went well. I was particularly pleased with our second set of two, ending on my new song, Feel Like I’m Falling Apart, which I like a lot. And if I don’t who else is going to? (Well, Andrew said he liked it when I played it to him on CD.) In the absence of Ian Fosten, Ivor compered very well indeed, ending with a poem incorporating all the acts. We got home about 10.30pm, having missed Usain Bolt’s first gold, but I think we all thought it was worth it. Which is quite remarkable, really.

Tea at Mannington Hall

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Amy enjoying the sea at Mundesley last week

Have managed to reach Friday in a rather stressful week. The roof has been fixed temporarily, and the ceiling has a tasteful white sheet covering the holes and the damp section. It stayed up at the second attempt. The second surveyor (for the builders) said the asbestos positive meant the whole ceiling would have to be removed and reinstated, which would involve moving all the furniture out and making good afterwards. Haven’t heard the insurance company’s reaction to this, but it leaves us still in limbo, which I hate. I am not good at waiting.

Meanwhile Dot has finished the wall-painting, and I have painted the trapdoor to the loft, because I am taller. Well, to be more accurate, I have painted it once, and I am about to paint it again. Dot is now immersed in improving the look of the garden, and keeps arriving home with a car full of plants. Keep catching bits  of the Olympics, but not always the right bits. Happily the BBC website is quite good on videos of bits you miss. I am as pro-Team GB as anyone, but I did rather enjoy those South African rowers who came from miles back to snatch the gold.

Two further sources of stress: intermittent Broadband connection at the beginning of the week for no apparent reason; and the unexpected difficulty of finding transport for church members without cars who want to go on a boat trip to St Benet’s Abbey on Sunday for the afternoon service. This would have been difficult enough anyway, but Dot and I are taking Phil and going on to Lowestoft afterwards for our third Seagull gig, so couldn’t take anyone. One of our members with a car didn’t know if she was going until Thursday, another (understandably) didn’t want to come into the city to collect people, and the two people at St Luke’s who might have helped were unreachable by phone or email. Howard could borrow a people carrier but couldn’t drive it because he had no insurance. Aargh! In the end I gatecrashed the Vicarage and spoke to Heather, with the result that Nicholas is going to drive the people carrier.

Our church is full of people who can’t drive or don’t have a car, or both. On Thursday Ian asked me to pick him up from the City College midway through the evening, which I did, of course.

Tuesday was kind of a highlight, because I had tea with Lord and Lady Walpole at Mannington Hall. Also present were Lucy, Jo and John, and we were discussing the Paston event at the Hall in October (weekend of 27–28). As Chronicle, the four of us – Caroline, Rob, Kay and I – are going to do two half-hour slots, but we will have to rework The Heroine of Hungate to introduce a Mannington connection. This is not quite as obscure as I thought it was (there is a 15th century marriage), but it will take a bit of working out. Afterwards Jo and John paid for lunch for Lucy and myself (and them) at the Saracen’s Head. Very impressive spot for lunch. Excellent food. Probably the fist gooseberry compote with mackerel I have ever had.

In the evening Tuesday Group was at the Archers, and another excellent repast – this time sausages and mashed potatoes – was followed by a very tasty video by Rob Bell. This was almost matched culturally on Thursday by a second attempt at a poetry group at the Narthex at St John’s Roman Catholic Cathedral, led by Hilary Mellon. Ten of us present, and it worked much better than the one on Betjeman. We looked closely at three of six Larkin poems that he had read out electronically and without hiccoughs at the start. Found myself liking his work a lot, though not his rather dour philosophy.

Have just made a list of areas for which I am responsible, in an attempt to work out why I never have time to do anything. I am up to 24 at the moment.