Monthly Archives: June 2013

Hard day in the recording studio

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No, we haven’t moved. This is Dot at Adrian Ward’s 60th party in the garden of his rather impressive house. There were a lot of people there, but not in the picture (obviously).

Summer has gone temporarily absent, and it’s raining as Dot prepares to depart for her orchestra rehearsal. She has been at Barbara’s all day, discussing future P4C activity. I went for a session with Sharon, armed with my “normal” x-ray results. It does seem to be getting better.

I was pretty tired, though, following a hard day yesterday in the recording studio at Katy’s Cottage, Wood Dalling, otherwise known as the home of Kay and David Riggs. We managed to get through the entire performance of what has recently been known as “The Magnificent Margaret” , taking one speech, poem or song at a time and then re-recording when the girls managed to hear some tiny interference on several tracks that was indiscernible to the men.

I even recorded my song – guitar first, then vocal. An interesting experience. It was quite warm and we ate outdoors. Had a stomach upset during the night and early this morning, but that was probably a coincidence.

Eventually retrieved Dot’s MX5 from the garage on Monday, but it cost us over £1000, largely because everything was done at once: new power steering fluid reservoir from Japan, service, brakes, renewal of roadside assistance… Gave a bloke a lift from the garage into Norwich who turned out to be from North Walsham and (inevitably) a former pupils of Jessie’s. Michael Self.

Later that same day, while Dot was at a governors’ meeting, I went to a private view of the annual 20 Group’s nudes exhibition; I was invited by Hilary. Not very impressive, to tell the truth, but free wine, and I ran into Rosemary Dixon from Archant library who, I was informed by a passer-by, is a fiddle player. She didn’t seem entirely sure.

The big event of the week, of course, was the joint service at St Augustine’s on Sunday, about which I had been having bad dreams for some time. It turned out to be OK, though, with the visiting clergy person, the Rev Eleanor Langan – lead chaplain at the N&N Hospital – turning out to be a sweetie.

Quite a big congregation; the church hadn’t been swept, and I didn’t follow precisely the guidance I’d been given, in that I forgot the second chalice and neglected to put the collection plate in the right place at the end (not strictly my fault, that). I also refused to use the ugly makeshift shelf for the pulpit and rigged up a music stand for EL’s notes instead. And I forgot to light the candles on the altar.

But on the plus side, the leading of the service was fine, and everyone was happy afterwards. Dot and Steve did an excellent job with the music. EL left her coat behind, and I delivered it to the Chaplaincy letterbox at the hospital in the evening while delivering Dot to see A Ethel, who is still in situ. EL was quite impressed by this.

Geoff’s operation at Papworth didn’t go too well, and he was unconscious for several days, but he has now woken up and will hopefully start improving, though we have no details.

Queen Dot, approximately

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Lovely picture of Dot taken by the head teacher at Little Plumstead school. Yes, that is a pine cone on her head. Don’t ask.

That was a rough week, bringing with it the return of the dreaded upper respiratory tract infection, which caused me so much grief in my younger years. Thought it had gone for good, but it all came back again with the usual unpleasant symptoms, and I was in bed for three days with everything streaming. In essence I think it was the virus Dot had (and she had it bad enough) but it seems to debilitate me completely. I am now feeling OK, though rather tired, and a little clogged up. Dot still hasn’t got rid of her cough.

I missed leading the service and the visit to Oxnead Hall on Sunday, and a meeting at the Norfolk Record Office and the Launch of 26 in Norwich (Paston connection) on Monday, all of which was disappointing. Dot went to Oxnead, Phil took the service, and Rob went to NRO (which he would have done anyway).

While the virus was getting into me, and before it reached its three-day apex, I went with Dot to Judy’s for supper on Thursday – lovely fish pie and Eton mess, amusing cat – and paid a misguided, fleeting visit to Welborne Arts Festival on Saturday while Dot was visiting Auntie Ethel in hospital (yes, she’s still there – Ethel, not Dot). The weather was chill and coming on to rain, but I had a brief chat with organiser Mike and, unexpectedly, top artist Kate Coleman, who had a small tentful of paintings. Then I ran for the hills, getting back to the hospital just in time to give Dot a lift home.

That reminds me, I ‘ve written a new song called The Rolling Hills of Pakefield, which I like quite a lot.

I’ve spent the last couple of days completing preparations for Sunday (though I made a brief foray into town today to pay in cheques and buy paper). An unexpected complication – and I realise I’m looking at this from completely the wrong point of view – is that our friend and church member Geoff Saunders is on the critical list in Papworth following an operation to replace his aorta. Nicholas rang, concerned that my leading of the service on Sunday would be affected if he dies, and it certainly would, but I think I could cope. Hope I don’t have to, of course. (Nicholas himself is leading a Developing Consciousness course at St Luke’s and so can’t step in.)

Half a dozen of us had a prayer meeting at St Luke’s yesterday during the operation.

Several fantasy lands

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Dot on the path from Spout Hills to the Letheringsett Water Mill.

Life doesn’t get any slower, but at least the weather is something approaching mild today. I stepped outside to go to the supermarket, wondering which coat to wear, and realised I didn’t need a coat at all. Deep shock. We did have some sun last week, but the wind was very chilly, and when we went to Blakeney for a concert on Saturday, it was grey and verging on cold. No, it actually was cold.

The concert, in the church, was good, though: the Mozart Orchestra playing (mainly) Beethoven’s Concerto for Violin. And the violinist, Fiona Hutchins, was brilliant, clearly having a lot of fun, and no self-importance whatsoever. We sat in the third row, and it was great to watch her close-up. She is normally the orchestra leader, and they clearly got on well.

Before that we ate sandwiches in our car on the quay, and then had a quick drink in the bar at the Blakeney Hotel as the tide raced in.

The previous day was much warmer and sunny; so we went to Holt and walked at Spout Hills and across the fields to Letheringsett Water Mill, which was just closing. So we went back up into town and had tea and scone at Byfords (always wonderful), followed by a bit of food shopping at Bakers & Larners. Earlier I’d picked up my new glasses from Boots, who have just texted me to say I missed my appointment. They clearly need glasses.

Going further back into the mists of time, on Wednesday Nicholas talked me through a service I’m leading at the old church on the 23rd. Last night I had a bad dream about leading a service and not having anything with me that I should have.  And it hadn’t even been preying on my mind, though I’m not at all sure I can remember everything Nicholas said. It is preying on my mind now, of course. I have to put the order of service together and choose some hymns; then I should be OK. Let us prey.

At the PCC that same evening I met the new parish treasurer, who gave me a document to pin up in the church. Something to do with insurance. Unfortunately I lost it on the way home: I was walking because Dot had the car, which is still in the garage and will be for at least a week, probably more. I am pretending the document never existed. It won’t be long before I start pretending the car never existed.

Sharon had a particularly effective go at my shoulder on Thursday, and it’s been feeling much better since. But I am still awaiting the results of the x-ray.

Busy day on Sunday. After preaching on raising the dead (no visual aids) we went to Adrian Ward’s 60th birthday party at Cringleford, arriving just in time for the food but too early for the only other people we knew (except Adrian and his wife). Martin Laurance eventually turned up, complete with new eye surgery, and later Annette and Teri. In between, Caroline, who read some poems from her Pepys book following a guy who played cello for rather a long time. Dot and I then had to rush away because we were performing  at the Seagull in the evening. No music this time, but Dot did assist in a tanka series, and I did a few other poems. Very good young singer-guitarist there called Matthew Shepherd, of whom I expect great things.

And then there was yesterday, when Phil drove me to Coventry/Warwick to visit Andrew. We visited Minster Lodge first and left some money for the man who was transporting Andrew’s belongings from the Langleys. Then to Warwick, and a bit of a challenge finding the entrance to Andrew’s new ward, the Rowans. All the staff very pleasant. Andrew was less manic but still firmly inhabiting a fantasy land – or to be more accurate, several fantasy lands. We had a chat with the ward manager and the consultant, then headed for home, stopping only for an Olympic breakfast at Thrapston. Well, you have to, don’t you?

And now Linda is just finishing Dot’s hair, having cut mine halfway through this blog. Tuesday Group tonight, which I will have to sort out myself, because Dot has a meeting at 6.30pm. She may or may not be back for our meal.

Looking over my shoulder

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Chronicle in action at Dragon Hall. From left, Rob Knee, Caroline Gilfillan, Kay Riggs, Tim Lenton

Well, it happened. Reading the Pastons dawned sunny and reasonably warm last Friday, and everything fell into place. The speakers all turned up and did a good job; I operated the laptop for the pictures and struggled through after one or two initial blips. The two performances by Chronicle (the first to about 25-30, the second to half a dozen) went well and got good feedback. The exhibition and re-enactors performed well.

Dot brought Jessie, and Jude came too. From church Ray and Christine were joined by David Archer. At least two people came from London, including a man who used to be admired by Dot at primary school; unfortunately she wasn’t feeling well enough to chat him up: her catarrh lingered on, and still does to a much lesser extent. Anna’s sister Nicola also put in an appearance.

In the afternoon a number of USAF children came and joined in the re-enacting as well as one or two other things. The favourable weather meant that we could spill into the garden and was also good for Rob’s tour of the Norwich Paston sites. For more information, click here.

Afterwards Dot and I had a meal with Jessie back at 22, and we then took her home, continuing on to Paston to deliver various items to the Barn. Lucy was still not too good (she hadn’t been well enough to come), but she showed us details of a couple of houses in Bacton she was interested in.

Elizabeth had left her memory stick behind, so on Saturday I delivered it to her home in Little Melton before driving dow to see nephew Joe’s photos at a New Buckenham Photo Exhibition. Liked his stuff very much, and there were other good photos on show too. Dot would have enjoyed it, but she was still suffering a bit, so didn’t come. Bought some cards.

From New Buckenham I drove across country via Hapton and Hempnall to Ditchingham, where I picked up Joy from her retreat house. Arrived a bit early (I hadn’t been sure how long it would take), but Joy was pretty much ready. Drove her home, buying some milk on the way.

Meanwhile Andrew had taken a turn for the worst and was sectioned because they felt he wasn’t in a position to remain at the hospital voluntarily. Apparently he has been quite hostile to staff. I decided to go over to see him on the Monday, partly because I was worried about what was happening to his stuff. In the end I didn’t go because A Ethel was taken ill and had to go into hospital, where she remains. Dot and I saw her last night in the company of Angela and Rodney, who returned here afterwards for coffee.

I managed to get in touch with one of the carers (Paul), who assured me that Andrew’s stuff was being taken care of, and I’ve now decided to go over next Monday, in the company of Phil, who had been in Southampton last week while Joy was in Ditchingham. I spent most of yesterday dealing with church money and taking it to the bank, then sending out invoices for hall use. We also finally got a visit from a gas person, who serviced our system. It was OK, though of course we were urged to buy a new boiler, and of course we didn’t.

Today I shall be heading to the hospital shortly for an x-ray on my left shoulder. Or a look over my shoulder, you might say.