Monthly Archives: March 2014

Nothing suspicious here

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In matron's white, my aunt Dorothy pictured at Norwich School in 1964 - from a photo in the school magazine
In matron’s white, my aunt Dorothy pictured at Norwich School in 1964 – from a photo in the school magazine

Spent much of Sunday wondering why Dot hadn’t worked out that David was coming to see her for Mothers’ Day. I could clearly get away with murder. I even cleaned the bath and the washbasin in the morning, and went to Budgen’s after church to stock up on bread. Then we went to North Walsham to put flowers on the graves and in a totally out-of-character move I rejected the possibility of dropping in on Jessie. I then (having by now established what time David would be arriving) stopped by the church at Beeston St Lawrence and we had a look round. Warm, calm, dry, idyllic. Not suspicious at all.

David eventually arrived just after 5pm, as Dot was finishing some work in the garden and not noticing how I kept consulting my Find-your-Friends app to see where he was.  I rejected making the bed in the guest room as a step too far and put the chicken in, peeled far too many potatoes for two, and went upstairs while Dot did work on the computer, thus allowing her to open the door when the bell rang.

It was worth it.

David left this morning just after 12, after we’d had a chat with Mairead outside. This afternoon a buoyant Dot is at Little Plumstead school explaining to parents how wonderful Philosophy4Children is. I went into the city to pay in some cheques. It’s nice to be able to do that without putting on a coat.

Some kind of poetry

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Dot doing her Princess Diana thing at Chatsworth
Dot doing her Princess Diana thing at Chatsworth

And this was the second week in the year we didn’t go to the cinema. Nothing really calling to us at the moment. But we did watch North by Northwest on television  this evening by way of recovering from Norwich losing 3-0 at Swansea and England being ejected from the 20-20 cricket world cup.

Lovely warm day today. Bought some flowers and took them up to the Rosary while Dot was going through the torment of listening to the Norwich match. It’s Mothers’ Day tomorrow. I slipped a couple of little roses on to my grandparents’ grave as well. It’s looking neglected.

Not a very busy week. I managed to get down to my last blood pressure pills and had to beg some emergency ones from the chemist. Also had some interesting laser work done by Ross on one of my upper teeth to get rid of some minor problem at gum level. Bit uncomfortable, but not too bad. Health continues to be up and down. Today I’ve felt tight round the abdomen and odd altogether. So hard to pin down exactly what’s wrong, but something is definitely not right.

On Wednesday went to the last performance of Whistle, by Martin Figura, at the Arts Centre. The evening started with a 20-minute warm-up by Russell Turner (The Vodka Diaries), which was quite entertaining, though not something one would want one’s grandchildren to witness. This was followed incredibly by a 20-minute interval, which probably shows that poetry audiences are very thirsty. Martin Figura himself was good – more monologue than poetry, but he did justice to the story, during which his father kills his mother.  This did actually happen, which just goes to show.

Yesterday I got a call from a woman who wanted to use my poem Some Kind of Lamb in the Wymondham Abbey magazine. She was very complimentary about the poem and said that several of her friends had it pinned up. That is the kind of thing that makes writing poetry worthwhile. That and the writing itself.

I have also written a short piece on Betjeman and Clare for the Parish Pump website, at the request of Anne Coomes. And at last I’ve put together five of my songs with chords for the next Seagull session. Dot and I practised some of them tonight. Sounded good.

Chatsworth in the rain

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A rainbow near Chatsworth
A rainbow near Chatsworth

Last week was the first this year when we didn’t go to the cinema – time pressed a bit, but also there was nothing we really wanted to see. Hope to resume this week, though it’s looking a bit busy already. Dot is at Barbara’s today and will progress from there to Peterhouse School at Gorleston for some Ofsted feedback (representing the diocese). I am catching up after a weekend away.

On Friday we left around 10.30 for Nottingham, calling in at Coventry on the way. It was a very slow journey, particularly the section through Elveden and the M1 from the M69 northwards. I had called Coventry the night before to make sure they knew we were coming; nevertheless we arrived around 1.30pm to find that Andrew had gone out for a walk. Helen gave us a hot drink and we waited for nearly an hour, but he didn’t return; so we went to Green’s garden centre near the Binley roundabout for a very pleasant snack. A spot worth remembering, though it’s not really a garden centre: more a garden furniture and sculpture outlet.

We got to Nottingham around 5pm after calling in at Donington services to buy some flowers for Julia.  In the evening we went by taxi to an excellent Indian restaurant. Next day we visited Chatsworth. It was very cold, and there was quite a bit of a rain, but we enjoyed it very much. We started at the farm shop and restaurant, where we had a meal (recommended), then after a “quick” tour of the excellent shop proceeded by car to the house, where we parked and after a brief discussion about the weather paid £9 each to enter the gardens.

These far exceeded my expectations and were certainly worth the bitter wind and frequent showers. A rock garden with massive rocks stood out, but there were plenty of other features (fountain, maze, waterfall) which I’d like to go back to in more clement weather. There were also a number of sculptures of gardening equipment which were eye-catching.

In the evening we went by taxi to a community church near Pride Park in Derby (£20 each way) for a celebration of Rosemary’s 70th birthday. (Alan and Rosemary have been joining us in Blakeney for many years now.) We had a good time and met some interesting people, including A & R’s two sons, Howard and Nigel, plus Howard’s wife Esther and a steam engine enthusiast, a secondary school headmaster who came from Gorleston and a maths professor from Newcastle. The buffet was excellent, and there was a 70-year quiz at which the four of us managed a measly 20 out of 39.

Sheltering from a sharp shower on the tramway walk
Sheltering from a sharp shower on the tramway walk

On the Sunday there was no rest: a 5-to-6-mile walk taking in parts of the new tramway preceded a late lunch, and we left for home at about 4.30pm. A good journey this time, and we were in Norwich by 7.20pm.  And in the middle of all that, Norwich City had won 2-0 🙂

Earlier in the week (last Wednesday) I had attended a Paston members’ meeting, which featured rather less impressive refreshments but a good talk from Rob on Edward and the minor branch of the Pastons. Meanwhile Dot was at orchestra rehearsal.

Vagueness about place

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Dot near Cockshoot Broad
Dot near Cockshoot Broad

After writing the last post, we were invited round to number 18 for a cup of tea, which turned out to be much more: sandwiches, cakes and so on. An afternoon tea that Phil would have been proud of, apparently. I’m sure she would. Phyll too. Had a very pleasant time talking to a number of people – especially the wife of the RC deacon who had led the service.

We were about to lose our record of going to the cinema every week this year when we decided to go for a walk at the end of Saturday afternoon – and during the walk decided to go to the cinema to see The Grand Budapest Hotel. Discovered at the end that it was from stories by Stefan Zweig, and it certainly had a mid-European feel to it – a vagueness about place but a fascination with unusual sequences of events. Ralph Fiennes was very funny, as was the bellboy, whose name escapes me. The hotel was  funny too.

On Sunday we had Communion followed by a talk by Robert Fruewirth on Lady Julian and person-centred counselling. I spent most of it trying to work out what non-person-centred counselling would be like. I do have an antipathy to counselling generally, suspecting it’s often a kind of addiction indulged in by people who should just get a grip, but are too fascinated by themselves to step outside. He didn’t say anything very interesting, which is a pity, because Julian most definitely did.

Later Dot and I went for a walk at Woodbastwick in weather rather redolent of the previous Sunday, if marginally cooler. Cockshoot Broad is as tranquil as ever, but the dyke seems to have lost its water lilies. Or maybe it’s the wrong time of year. Is there a wrong time of year for water lilies? Bright sunshine, though, and restful.

Yesterday I went to the dentist and got more or less a clean bill of health, though he identified a little hole that he would like to have a go at with a laser. In a weak moment, I said yes. It’s happening next Wednesday. Not sure it’s totally necessary, but apparently it bled a lot. Meanwhile the rest of my body is up and down: last night I felt extremely odd in the middle of the night, but much better as soon as I got out of bed. Still have a funny head  (oh yes) and a tight abdomen.

In the afternoon I went out to Mundesley for a meeting of the PHS trustees, arriving a little early. Not a bad meeting in the sun room, but with the door open. Have just finished the minutes, but it sounds very much as if we are going to get involved with another huge project. I may flee the country.

Meanwhile I have written a song called Farewell to Philomena, based loosely on our dear departed neighbour, but with some other elements of southern Ireland. Quite pleased with it, though Dot has doubts about the tune. She has a pain in her groin too (I don’t think it’s the tune), but has been spending the afternoon at Peterhouse School with her colleague Juliet (wife of Tom Corbett, ibid).

Farewell to Philomena

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philomenaThe talk at Halesworth went all right, despite my rather sketchy knowledge of tanka. It was sunny but much, much colder then the previous day. I drove through Bridge Street but failed to locate the driveway where I was supposed to park; so I left the car in the pay-and-display and walked down. After finding it, I returned for the car. Made some  money on it, too. Paid 70p for parking but found £1 in the return slot.

The tension persisted while I had a cup of tea in the adjacent cafe and established that the talk was to be in the library. In the library the group, some nine strong, were given an exercise which was supposed to last about 15 minutes, but as they all had to read out what they’d written and everyone else had to comment on each effort, it actually lasted nearer 45 minutes. Ah, well. I did speak eventually and they seemed to be happy. The organiser, Tom Corbett, bought me a sandwich afterwards, I had a chat with some of the group, and the drive home was very relaxing.

I had quite a good night’s sleep after that, but the next day I had a chess game, playing for the A team against Norfolk and Norwich in the semi-final of the Williamson Cup. They were desperate, as I believe I mentioned. I walked there (they play at Thorpe House school) and played pretty well, considering I hadn’t had a competitive match for months. Then I did a pretty close impression of Norwich v Stoke:  I won a piece and should have finished off the game easily, but simplified when I shouldn’t have and eventually drew when all the pawns came off.

This was made worse by (a) the fact that my opponent was graded considerably below me and (b) the unfortunate detail that if I had won we’d have made the final. Still, the team captain managed to throw away a much more obvious win and lose; so I can’t really feel too bad about it. Afterwards I had to find a side gate and climb down a bank to get out of the school grounds (the gates only opened for cars), and then predictably had another bad night. I only have the stamina for half a game of chess nowadays.

The next day was better. I delivered Phil’s presents and birthday card and then went up to the chemist to get a prescription for Dot. On my return the plumber came and put a new ballcock in the tank in the loft, and on this basis (and a word from the vicar) I recommended him to Paul and Maryta for work they want doing on their potential new house on Ipswich Road.

That night (Wednesday) I slept badly again, waking with severe pains in my stomach. Looking back, this may have been caused by mouldy bread. I noticed today that the loaf I had used for supper on Wednesday was going off in a big way. Anyway, I had recovered enough not to put off Roger and Sue Eagle, who were scheduled to come for lunch on Thursday, did, and stayed till  about 5pm. Dot made soup, bread, a dessert and a rhubarb crumble, and we had a really nice time. We’re hoping they will join us for a week in Scotland later in the year.

Had quite a reasonable night last night and noticed this morning that I’ve lost a quarter of a stone. My blood test came back clear, but I’m still not feeling 100 per cent. Have written a few Lent poems.

Today was Philomena’s funeral. She has lived next-door-but-one to us for some 30 years, but I discovered much more from the funeral homily in the RC Cathedral than I ever knew about her. Her maiden name is O’Driscoll, for instance, which is much more fun than Humphry. Very nice service. I walked there, and Dot arrived by car after an early lunch with Carrie at the Reading Rooms. Also present: Mary from next door; Diane, who used to live next door; and her predecessors, whose name escapes me. They now have a big B&B on Lower Clarence Road. He used to drive round the city in a horse and cart, but he now has a mobility scooter.  There must be a song in that. Or maybe not.

David has been in Canada all this week and returns tonight. We haven’t been to the cinema this week yet. May not make it now.

Words in the night

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The moon seen through the windmill at Thurne
The moon seen through the windmill at Thurne

It’s just after 4am, and I’m shattered. Haven’t slept for the past two hours. I’ve just finished my antibiotics, and I guess I’m feeling a bit more healthy, but I’m quite down at the moment. I have a very heavy feeling in my abdomen. Today I have to give a talk to some people at Halesworth, and I’m quite nervous about it, because I’m not entirely sure what’s expected. The guy organising it is one of those people who assume you know what he’s thinking. I’ve never met him or any of the people involved.

Yesterday was a bit of a disaster too. I made a bit of a mess of the hymns, Howard hadn’t chosen a reading and various other things weren’t right. The day was somewhat redeemed when Dot and I went out in the afternoon: it was a sunny and warm day (18C), and we started at Billockby, where we visited a ruined church recommended to me by Joy McCall and then went on to Thurne, where we walked from the church and down along the river bank. Stunning, really.

I had a blood test on Friday; no doubt that won’t show anything , which of course is good in a way. On Saturday Dot and I went out to North Walsham in the afternoon, visiting the atrium and the high school, where they were showing some old photographs of the town. Ran into Jessie (among other people, including Brian Gaudette[?] from EN subs) and we went back to hers for tea and biscuits afterwards, accompanied by a friend of hers who turned out to be Richard Batson’s mother-in-law. We all listened to the football. Norwich City managed to throw away a cast-iron win by giving away a penalty.

In the evening Dot and I went to the Cathedral for Night Vision, a Soul Circus event featuring hi-tech sounds and visuals from Robin Vincent and a communion presided over by Suzanne Cooke, who seems to have taken to being a vicar like a natural, which of course she is.

Another Lent event took place at St Luke’s on Wednesday, and I attended while Dot was at orchestra. This was an Ash Wednesday communion, and attracted a surprising number – somewhere around 50, including Howard and Anna, and Anna’s sister Nicola. Had tea afterwards and walked home: at least I can walk a fair distance now without feeling exhausted.

The garage door was fixed on Thursday and looks quite good, though of course the frame now needs painting. Dot is undecided between brown (like the window frames) and green (like the gates). Later we picked up three pictures that have been framed, though we haven’t actually got round to hanging them anywhere yet.

On Tuesday last week we had a meal that was definitely not a Tuesday Group affair. Oh no. However, Bridget, David, Vicky and Claire did come, and we had pancakes. This coming Tuesday I am playing chess in a cup match. Not really looking forward to it, but they were desperate.

Yeats knew a thing or two

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Crocuses in the Rosary
Crocuses in the Rosary

Sunny and relatively mild the last few days. Went to the doctor yesterday and got some antibiotics, but didn’t feel I’d really explained the problem properly. I’m having a blood test on Friday, so that should reveal anything underlying. I get tired very easily.

Before going to the doctor’s I drove Dot to a meeting at Thorpe High School, and she walked from there to pick me up from surgery, arriving only an hour after my appointment but while I was in with the doctor. I had been in the waiting room for almost an hour, which may be a record. After lunch we walked into the city, and she got her feet looked at while I paid in some church cheques at the TSB. Dot then spent some time looking round the shops while I returned home and did some work.

Part of the work was preparing a financial report for the DCC last night. That was well received, but they are easily pleased, I’m happy to say. While waiting for the doctor I wrote a couple of poems, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.

Dot and I went to a poetry conversation at the Playhouse on Friday, organised by the UEA.  Adrian Ward and two people from the Seagull were there. There was some interesting stuff, but as usual with such things, one or two people dominated and the talk kept going off at a tangent (“things fall apart; the centre cannot hold” – W B Yeats).

On Saturday, after getting some groceries for Joy and Phil because the latter is ill in bed, we drove to North Walsham for a visit to the cemetery – followed more importantly by a meal with Jessie, attended also by Roger and Liz. Ate far too much, of course, but a very pleasant time. Jessie is having quite a lot of problems with her eyes, probably as a result of an allergy to her most recent drops.

On Sunday the vicar made an appearance, following his recent excursion to Aspen, Colorado, but the congregation was ushered out rather sharpish to make way for a baptism at 1pm, which seemed kind of odd. In the afternoon Dot and I went up to the Rosary with flowers for Mum and Dad’s grave, followed by  a glance at a house on Thorpe Road that had caught Dot’s attention.

We have extracted Dot’s car from the garage, though she collided with one side of it in the process. Now it is in a holding pattern by the roadside, because the replacement people are coming on Thursday with two big vans and need the space. Hence the arrangement mentioned in paragraph two.