Dot, David and Chrissy on the boundary at Beechwood while Oliver played cricket
With rain promised for the rest of the week, Dot and I felt we had to take advantage of today’s sunshine and warmth; so after lunch we headed for North-East Norfolk. Once clear of the tourist hub of Wroxham we headed for the hamlet of Briggate, where we parked adjacent to Weavers’ Way. From there we walked across fields to Worstead and back – a round trip of about four miles. Quite pleasant.
We are now home and preparing to have two friends from church round for a meal as part of our “have two friends from church for a meal” project. Well, not exactly, but the church as a whole is trying to get to know each other better, though I suspect our congregation already knows each other better than most church congregations.
Yesterday we had the Bishop of Norwich for lunch. I suppose that could have been better phrased, but I sort of like it. It was basically a joint service at St Luke’s, at which Dot and I assisted with the music (Phil was a late withdrawal). Six hymns (three completely new to us) with Steve on lead guitar and Angela on keyboards. Also Dot and I (with help from Steve) did a couple of my songs during communion.
The Bishop did an excellent sermon and was even better on answering questions afterwards. We had a bring-and-share lunch that was more than adequate, and then those who were left (the Bishop having departed with Nicholas) had a shot at an exercise designed to reveal who was interested in doing what after Nicholas left for America. I suspect that “reveal”is not quite the word.
Working backwards, on Saturday we celebrated Anne’s birthday belatedly with an excellent meal at the King’s Head in Brooke. I had fishcake with egg, duck breast and a lovely dessert consisting of Malibu brûlée and mango sorbet. Very moreish.
Julia and Allan came for an evening meal with us on Friday. Dot did her latest lamb dish, which is delicious, and we had a made-up starter involving those little salmon thingies, grapes and toast, with strawberries dipped in chocolate to finish. Then we imposed our holiday pictures on them, but they didn’t seem to mind too much. Earlier in the day I had been rushing up to the bank in Magdalen Street to find out why a church cheque had bounced (they had neglected to amalgamate our two accounts as promised) before heading to the market to buy the strawberries.
Which brings us logically to last Thursday. In the morning I went by bus to the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital for a chest x-ray, which must have taken all of 15 minutes maximum (including waiting time), and in the evening we attended the Assembly House for a piano concert by Evelyne Berezovsky as part of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. She was hot, and so was the Music Room. I had to rip off my jumper during a break between pieces, and other customers were also wilting.
Still, it is always worth visiting the Assembly House, because the toilets are first-class. When I say Evelyne Berezovsky was hot, I mean of course that she was a stunningly good pianist. I hope that’s clear.
Last Friday Dot and I spent much of the day in the city, including looking for presents for David (who was 42 on Sunday). In the end I ordered a couple from Amazon, because of the dearth of shopping satisfaction in Norwich. I also paid some cheques in for the church and didn’t have time to go to Diss for Annette’s first-year birthday celebration (her shop, not her).
Had a great time on a warm and sunny Saturday. Left quite early for Caddington and – alerted by text – called at David’s house to pick up some cooler clothes for him, Chrissy and Amy – who had travelled direct to Beechwood from their swimming, because Oliver was playing cricket. We arrived at the school to find Oliver at the wicket. He had scored nine runs, but unfortunately was out shortly after we got there. However we later saw him bowl someone out and do well in the field.
Meanwhile we were all having a go at Dot’s delicious picnic, which included prosecco. She had bought a cool bag the previous day, which was just as well, because it was pretty hot out there on the boundary, despite David’s tent. Later we had Indian back at Caddington and got home around 11.30pm. Chrissy learnt a lot about cricket and did a great Pavlova.
After church on Sunday we decided to forgo the pleasures of a ramble around Whitlingham Broad with the Archers and friends, and instead Dot and I walked to Phil and Joy’s to deliver a cheque to pay for Phil’s car use earlier in the week. It was hot, and we were tired, but we did go to the Archers’ house later for scone and cake. Unfortunately I had changed into cooler clothes, only to find that we were sitting in a cool breeze in the shade! Still, we had a good time (I had a conversation with chess player Paul Heppell), and we were back there the following evening with Judy (gave her a lift) and Vicky for more cake, tea and compline.
Over the last couple of days I spent some time tidying up my part of the study, and today we were at the charity shop getting rid of the some more stuff, and calling at the nearby butcher’s and Adnam’s. Got asparagus and strawberries at the butcher’s, but this seemed wrong, so we got lamb as well, and had it for supper.
Got around a bit today: after delivering some cheques to Heather this morning and pinning a notice on the church hall door we did the charity shop and took some other stuff to the church hall for Carrie. Later, with Dot at a DSSO meeting, I walked into city to pay in cheques, got a bus to Heartsease, walked a bit, picked up some pills, got another bus, walked a bit more, then drove to Morrisons to get rid of a pile of waste paper and some old shoes. Feeling a bit tired now.
I didn’t mention last night’s DCC. It wasn’t all that exciting: more like a conversation between Nicholas and Howard with the rest of us listening. Nicholas has carefully laid plans for what happens when he leaves, which you could regard as thoughtful or interfering, depending on your point of view. His heart is in the right place, I’m sure.
Summer seems to be approaching, at least for a while. Sunny and warm today, and we sat in the garden and drunk tea after Dot got back from one of her schools this afternoon. Earlier she came with me to the doctor’s, and I think he was intimidated into giving me a pretty thorough going over, though I think he believes nothing is wrong. So do I really. Nevertheless my blood pressure is still a bit high, and I have to return for a check in about a month. Meanwhile I am having a chest x-ray at the hospital, which apparently you can do on a drop-in basis, as long as they know your doctor is sending you.
While there Dot mentioned her heart did a funny sort of beat-skipping thing, with the result that she had to go to a clinic this afternoon and is booked in for something else. I don’t know the details, because she is now at a governors’ meeting at Little Plumstead, but she sounded pretty upbeat on the phone. So is Phil, who was at the hospital yesterday and has been promised some treatment to reduce muscle pain from his Parkinson’s.
The previous three days were taken up by Andrew. Phil drove me over to Coventry to fetch him on Monday, when it rained quite a lot, but not at the critical times. Because of road works we got on to the M11 going the wrong way, but were able to reverse that quite quickly. However, we mirrored the adventure coming back, when there was a huge hold-up approaching Cambridge on the A14, and I decided (as navigator) to continue down the M11 to Duxford and then go back up the A11. It seems a big diversion, but I think it was the right thing to do.
Before that we’d had a meal at Thrapston Little Chef, where Andrew was disconcerted to find no steak on the menu, but settled for barbecued chicken followed by (you guessed it) a sundae.
On Tuesday the weather was much better. Andrew and I walked into the city, heading for M&S, but discovered Peacock’s in the Mall and bought him a new jacket, new trousers, shirts, pants and socks, as all these seemed to be in short supply at Coventry (except the jacket, which was just in very bad shape). He declined my suggestion that we get him a haircut, and instead we had a coffee in the Arcade. Nasty moment there as he left for the toilet in the middle and (a) couldn’t find it and (b) took a long time to come back. I had visions of him wandering around Norwich (because the toilets were oddly outside the restaurant).
Anyway we found ourselves in the Castle Museum instead. Then after lunch Dot visited a school at Corton and I took Andrew to Barton Broad, which promised more than it delivered, then on to Walcott, where we got an ice cream, and Happisburgh, where we surveyed the recent surge damage and walked along the cliffs to see where the path had fallen into the sea.
Andrew was quite keen to go on a train, for some reason, so yesterday he and I took the train to North Walsham and walked through the town to the cemetery, where we met Dot, put flowers on the graves and drove home together. (Dot had meanwhile dropped in to see her aunt.)
After lunch we set off for Coventry and made quite good time, arriving at Minster Lodge at almost exactly 5pm, which was not the brightest thing to do. All well there – staff very pleased to see him back, or at least gave that impression – but then I tried to drive through the rush-hour traffic while avoiding the numerous road works. In the end I arrived by chance at Cheylesmore and sat in Dawlish Drive eating my chicken sandwich in the sun.
Afterwards I eventually found Binley and got some petrol at Morrisons before heading back to the A45 and home by the longer but easier route (M45, M1, A421), doing it in well under three hours. At Newport Pagnell services I was approached by a woman who was driving the wrong way down the M1 (bit of a theme, this) and wanted to know if there was any way she could turn round. I told her she would have to go on to the next junction, which was not far away. She was heading for Oxford, using “heading” in a completely different sense.
I arrived home about half an hour before Dot got back from orchestra rehearsal.
Happisburgh lighthouse from the now accessible pill box near the cliff edge.
Going back a bit, on Friday last week Dot and I went to another Julian Week lunchtime talk – this time by Dr Sarah Law on Julian and the Poetic Process. This was another really good one, despite the rather pathetic introducer, who seemed never to have seen a microphone before, let alone know how it worked. She propped it limply against the podium, where it was no use to man or beast. Fortunately the speaker overcame her ineptitude. That’s the trouble with these mystics: they don’t know how the world works.
Not true of Julian, of course, as former Archbishop Rowan Williams made clear in a much longer talk at the Cathedral the following morning, starting at 10.30am. Not much would get us out of bed that early on a Saturday, but he was well worth hearing, talking about Julian’s anti-theology and much else that I wish I could remember. Happily, I believe the talk is being printed, so I can go back and check. Many friends in the packed audience.
But I am leaping ahead. Friday contained more – starting with my picking up the St Augustine’s accounts file from Sarah, continuing with delivering some old videos etc to Stuart to sell in a sale at The Stage and ending with a concert at St Andrew’s Hall by the London Philharmonic. We had a front-row seat; however, it was strategically placed so that we couldn’t see the soloist and could only catch a glimpse of the conductor. Yes, dear reader, we were behind a pillar. I knew the pillar was there when I booked, but figured we could see behind it. Unhappily, the plan I consulted was inaccurate. On the plus side, we were perfectly placed for Dot to study the second violins in action. And the music was really good.
It was the first event of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. The second, on Saturday morning, was erecting a cardboard copy of St Peter Mancroft outside the Forum. Unfortunately, it was very windy. The result was described by a friend as “underwhelming”. Harsh but fair.
Dot at the BBC, with Mary Thrower and Julia Ann Houseago
I should probably not have contested the date of completion of the Guildhall during the lunchtime quiz at the CNS Class of 61 reunion event on Sunday. I have now been earmarked as a troublemaker and almost a sore loser, despite the fact that getting the question right would not have given our team anything like the total of the actual winners.
In case you’re surprised that I should have the faintest idea when Norwich Guildhall was finished, or care, the information happens to be part of the Paston Walk round Norwich that I devised some time ago. And it’s 1453, since you ask. However, the quizmaster had 1412, because that’s when the basic structure was completed. However, the windows weren’t put in till 1453, and if you think a house without windows is finished, I invite you to live in one. I tried to remain dignified about it, but my case comes up next week.
Just kidding. It was an excellent day, starting with a tour of the BBC and ending with a tour of said Guildhall (which should have settled the matter, but didn’t). In between we had an excellent lunch at Loch Fyne. We were accompanied by Fred and Sue, who had been intending to stay the devious night but in the end arrived early on the Sunday morning, following a mini-crisis with Sue’s aged mother. And about 34 others, of course.
On Monday, which was a bank holiday, Dot decided to spring-clean the garage. It was a pleasant, sunny day, but everything has gone downhill since then. On the plus side, the garage is much clearer, and I have sorted all my tools out. I have 27 screwdrivers. Dot is well on her way to sorting out her sewing basket (once you get started on this sort of thing … ). On the minus side, there is a massive amount of stuff heading for the tip or the charity shop, it’s raining, and one of my car tyres is looking very flat. I’ve tested it, and it’s about 14 psi. The question is, does it have a puncture, or is it just losing interest?
It’s Julian Week, and I’ve been to three talks at the library – one by Karen Smyth on the literary aspects, one by Sophie Cabot on the world Julian lived in (I thought it was going to be about Norwich, but no) and one today on the link between Julian and T S Eliot – Little Gidding in particular. The guy who gave today’s talk read Little Gidding, which was worth the walk through the rain on its own, but he had some interesting things to say too. Dot managed to get to two of the three, and we’re going to one tomorrow. Eleanor was there today, and Lucy Edwards yesterday.
The talks are in the library – an environment that turned out to be surprisingly loud. Today a man turned up 25 minutes late for a 20-minute talk, which meant he plonked himself down after the talk was supposed to have finished and about three minutes before it actually did. I’m sure he had a good reason for this, as I’m sure the mother did yesterday who thought a talk about a mystic writer was just the thing for her toddler. People are weird.
Returning from yesterday’s evening talk, Dot and I had an impromptu evening meal at Prezzos, which was unexpectedly nice.
We had our hair cut at the second attempt yesterday, and we’ve paid for our holiday in Iona, thankfully organised by Anna. I was astonished to discover that to get from Norwich to Glasgow by air, you have to change at Manchester. That’s like going by train to Brundall and having to change at Trowse.
Dot did the first of a series of P4C sessions at Little Plumstead school on Tuesday, and she had neglected to pick up her blood pressure pills on Saturday. So I was outside the chemist when it opened and took the pills to Little Plumstead. Also a large piece of card that wouldn’t fit in her car.
Heard today that Oliver took two wickets at cricket against another school and ran someone out with a direct hit. Excellent! Meanwhile Amy has been taking part in an athletics meet at Chesham. Good little mover.
Significant week in the history of St Augustine’s. We had our annual meeting on Tuesday – excellent food from Karen & Co as usual – and a good talk from visitor Keith Elliott, representing Inclusive Church, which the parish is thinking of joining. Then Nicholas dropped his bombshell – he and his family are leaving, and going to Aspen, Colorado, some time in the summer.
Actually, we already knew this, but most of the people present didn’t, and there was a bit of a stunned silence, followed by a few nice things being said. Obviously things will be difficult in the interregnum, but I think it’s the right move for him.
Mr Elliott was staying the night with us. I’d already walked him up to the Cathedral in the afternoon, and he was a considerate guest. We also felt we were on his wavelength. The next morning Nicholas came round to have a chat with him, and after a walk on his own Keith joined us for a cold lunch, during which the man came to service the burglar alarm. Not great timing, but he was very pleasant, and things went smoothly.
In the afternoon Rob and Caroline came round for a Chronicle read-through and discussion. I have a bit of reorganisation to do on the Oxnead script, as well as some design work on the forthcoming book. Time marches on: I’m a bit worried that it won’t get done in time, but I expect it will.
On Thursday evening we went to Claire’s for dinner after a day of wondering whether she’d remembered or not: she ignored an e-mail and didn’t answer her phone, but in fact all was well and we had an excellent meal.
All week a Toys R Us trolley had been languishing on the pavement outside, and we’d been a bit worried it might end up being pushed into our car, or someone else’s. Eventually I worked up the energy to push it through the city and back to its base. It was heavy and had a bit of a mind of its own (especially downhill), but I took it up Prince of Wales Road, Queen Street, St Andrew’s and down Westwick Street and left it outside the shop. On the way back I spoke to a Big Issue seller who had been a trolley boy in Hamilton, outside Glasgow, and used to fetch back trolleys that customers had taken home. That’s what we need here. He was against independence but wasn’t allowed to vote because he didn’t live in Scotland.
In the evening Linda cancelled our hair appointment again, and we are rescheduled for next Wednesday. Tonight we were due to have Fred and Sue to stay before the CNS reunion event tomorrow, but they have cancelled too for family reasons, though they’re hoping to come down tomorrow morning. This morning Maryta and Paul called in for coffee while looking at two more houses, their original vendor having created problems. They have the kind of schedule that makes our hectic ones seem positively sedentary.
