Monthly Archives: July 2014

David, Chrissy and party

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Dot, Amy and Oliver on the brink
Dot, Amy and Oliver on the brink

David, Chrissy and the grandchildren have come and gone. It was a rather unusual visit that seemed to pass too quickly. It opened with a bang: Dot arranged an Arbonne party at the house for Wednesday evening, to which many of her friends were invited. Parking problems were surmounted through the use of chauffeurs (Julia), remote  parking (Anne and Bridget) and my positioning the MX5 in Rosary Road to make room for Sue and Judy. Too much detail, I hear you say.

The party seemed to go well, though I’m not sure how financially successful it was: in any case there is a suspicion that most of the friends came to see Chrissy, David and the grandchildren. I can hardly blame them for that.  I should make clear that it is Chrissy who is the Arbonne consultant, not Dot.

The weather has been warm, and some of the party was in the garden. On the Thursday Dot and I took the children to Winterton, one of their favourite spots, where we had a late lunch at the cafe and followed it up by some hide-and-seek in the dunes, which my ankle stood up to reassuringly well. Even Dot was able to move about a bit 🙂 We also spent some time on the beach, when all of us paddled.

While we did this, David and Chrissy were doing my Norwich Paston walk, partly as a test for some software he’s writing. They appeared not to get lost. There was also a great deal of table tennis played, with Oliver improving visibly as the three days progressed. In the end he was beating both Dot and me. Amy spent a lot of time watching some kind of drama on her small screen, and did not welcome intruders.

L:ate on the Friday David and Chrissy took my car to Suffolk to visit a cousin  of Chrissy’s. Earlier Richard had called round coincidentally and was able to talk to David about websites and similar matters.

The Caddington contingent returned home on Saturday just after lunch, following a visit to Hobbycraft and Morrisons and an unsuccessful search for a Mr Whippy. Sorry, Amy. The journey went well – probably a good time to travel.

After a rest in the afternoon, Dot and I went next door for a meal. Much of it was in the back garden, the weather still being very warm. But it ended in a thunderstorm:  we rushed home to take washing off the line when we saw the lightning, but returned for another half an hour.  Good food and drink and some enjoyable conversation, mainly philosophical 🙂

But this thunderstorm was nothing compared to the one that hit Norwich yesterday afternoon. We had been to church, where I preached on God being with us, and were sitting watching television when there was a huge, prolonged cloudburst. It wasn’t long before water came into our living room again. It seemed to come down the walls, but there was more on the floor than seemed to be indicated by marks on the walls. We got the towels out again and mopped it up.

Next door had flooding in the bathroom, and are having a builder round tomorrow. He is popping in to see us too.

In the evening Dot and I went to Lowestoft for a Seagull performance. We read a tanka series together and then I read a couple of my other poems which were well received, especially by Kaaren Whitney, who wants me to read at some other place in Suffolk in August. Uniquely, there was a guest poet, Rodney Pybus, who was pretty good, but it left little time for others, and the whole thing didn’t finish till after 10pm, by which time we were pretty tired.

New car in the post

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Bird-watching on Cley beach, looking over the marshes.
Bird-watching on Cley beach, looking over the marshes.

Seems a long time ago since I posted something. Let me see, what has happened? Oh yes, I have become 69. I am in my 70th year. Three score years and ten on the horizon. I suppose getting this far has been good, but it all went by so quickly, and the more it went by, the quicker it went.

So I was feeling a bit down on my birthday, which was last Saturday, as I recall. Maybe this was partly because the previous four years I had been on holiday when my birthday came round: this one seemed strangely flat. That was until I bought a new car.

We called in at the garage on the way to the North Norfolk coast for a late afternoon visit, and things soon got out of hand. We took a Mazda2 for a test drive – both of us had a go, and it seemed really nice, light and nippy. We sat down to talk to the salesman/general manager, who we know quite well, and before we knew what we were doing we had ordered one.

Things I forgot to check: whether I could get my guitar in the boot. Bit worried too about how I’ll cope with the much smaller engine and loss of Sport boost, but on the plus side it’s much cheaper to tax and insure, and it uses far less fuel.

Afterwards I was driven to Holt by my wife and we had tea and cake there before moving on to Cley, where we visited the beach and then the Three Swallows before ending up at the church for a performance of Caroline’s Pepys extravaganza, which was brilliant and worthy of being seen by many more people. She seemed pleased to see us. The rest of the audience were very weird, so we fitted right in. One of them had bought a dining table for £8500, apparently. I didn’t mention the car.

The next day I had to preach at St Luke’s. Happily Karen was leading the service and Steve was the worship band, so I felt quite at home, and the talk (on No condemnation) went OK, despite a large man on the front row who tried to join in. He was also in the front row at a concert there in the afternoon to raise money for Carrie’s work, and kept trying to draw attention to himself. He tried to engage me in conversation in the interval, but I was giving nothing away (we had already had a brief discussion after the service, where I obstinately refused to agree with anything he said). He brings out the worst in me.

There was a fierce rainstorm during the concert, and water started to get in, but they soldiered on. Very enjoyable, actually, especially Dvorak’s New World symphony. Dot and I escaped by the side door afterwards to avoid encountering Mr Big in the foyer. Also Dot was anxious to get home to continue with a mammoth clean-up that has been going on all week. The garden is now stunning and the kitchen repainted, rearranged and generally just right for a party, should one happen to occur.

Coincidentally, Chrissy has arrived in the country and will be joining us on Wednesday with David and the children. Oliver has a new phone and texts us quite a lot, which is nice. We also get more of an idea what’s going on.

My birthday meal was on Friday evening. We went to Cafe Rouge, and the meal included a free bottle of champagne, as it was for my birthday. This kind of generosity might help to explain why the place is closing down shortly – something we learnt by chance, overhearing a conversation while we were there. Our waitress, who was an opera singer, said that the group was cutting back, which is a pity, because Cafe Rouge in Exchange Street has a very particular kind of charm that I’m sure you don’t get in other Cafes Rouges.

Earlier we’d popped out to Mundesley to see Lucy, who amazingly was able to let us have the ISBN number for the Oxnead book. She seemed quite well, and her house looked very nice. Not sure what’s going on there. The cat and rabbit look innocent.

On Wednesday last week we went to Muspole Street to pick up my other birthday present, which is a picture by Martin Laurance that I’d expressed an interest in and which suddenly became available. Nothing too expansive or expensive, but it looks good on the newly painted wall with the other two of his that we have. I also called in to see Nick Gorvin about printing the Oxnead book. He gave me quite a reasonable quote.

Going way back, a week ago as I write we were at Judy’s enjoying cake and compline, but without the compline, because no-one had prepared it. Lovely evening though, including the Archers, who took us.

Back to today: I’ve been in the city paying in cheques. Weather very warm. On the way back I looked at David Holgate’s carving of Julian on the Cathedral, which is impressive. He has just died, and his funeral is this week. I have been in touch with his assistant, Philippa, who I know a bit. Also bumped into Margaret and Martin on the way home and had quite a long chat about his worries concerning Mairead’s house, which he fears may be sold for bedsits. We agreed that this must not happen, but had no idea how to prevent it.

Oh yes, there was a World Cup Final. Germany won. Nice goal.

Table tennis triumph

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Dot in the woods at Felbrigg
Dot in the woods at Felbrigg

Busy day last Thursday: so busy that Dot got confused and ended up doing a presentation at Little Plumstead school instead of coming to the Paston members’ meeting at Bacton, where Susan Curran spoke rather well and then almost had a fight with Lucy about the Pastons’ reputation and origins.

Earlier we had a Chronicle meeting at Rob’s house, preparing the Oxnead event and discussing various other things, including the book. It seems I will be wearing some kind of costume. I may have to leave the country. Afterwards Rob and Penny entertained me to tea, which meant I was pretty full when faced with the fabled Paston refreshments.

Still, at least we all got there, despite signs declaring the Bacton road closed (it wasn’t). Apparently removing road signs afterwards isn’t included in the contract for repairing a road. Not many people at the talk, but a nice evening.

Dot and I missed an extraordinary meeting of the PCC that discussed the parish profile (probably a good thing), but I made some comments beforehand that Howard passed on. I called on him the next day and bumped into Beth, who is looking very well.

On the same day we emerged triumphant in our table tennis encounter with the Robinsons, despite not having practised. It was interspersed with lasagne and a couple of world cup quarter-finals, both of which were pretty dire. Philip went to sleep at one point.

Saturday and Sunday were quiet, apart from a lively Communion service and afters at church. Elvira brought a cake, and there was some jamming with Carrie (using my guitar), Dot and a guy from the farm, who plays the piano by ear.

Today, which has been muggy, Dot visited a couple of schools and continued the task she started yesterday: painting the kitchen. She claims to like doing it; so I let her do it (as if I had a choice). It all makes me feel uneasy, though.

Have had a look at Godfrey Sayers’ book and made him an offer. Haven’t heard from him; so it was probably ill-judged.

Tracked down crocodile in Felbrigg Hall

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The usual suspects at Creake Abbey
The usual suspects at Creake Abbey

Summer seems to be with us: today is bright and warm, and Dot has just left for Metfield for a session with Barbara. Yesterday the weather was similar, and Dot and I had a go at cutting the hedge, with reasonable results. Of course we can’t reach the other side of the top…

Despite the bad weather forecast, we had a good weekend at Blakeney with Julia, Dave, Alan and Rosemary. The promised rain did not materialise except when we were at the hotel, and on the Sunday, when we visited Felbrigg Hall for the first time,  it was actually warm and dry.

Interesting place, and more to see inside than I had anticipated. I tracked down the picture of William Paston and his crocodile, though it was hard to distinguish the latter, because the light fell badly. Outside there are lovely grounds that we intend to explore another time, but we did have a long look at the magnificent walled garden, which includes allotments hireable by locals – a great idea.

The previous day, when we’d been expecting rain following downpours in Norwich and on the journey on the Friday, we got away with a dark sky and not much else. We did a walk at North Creake. Halfway round were the ruins of Creake Abbey, which I’d never visited, and nearby some shops and a cafe  rather beautifully presented.

After stopping for refreshment we started on the second half of the walk, but Dot was feeling her ankle; so she returned to the shops and cafe while we completed the circle, which included some rough walking over fields that she did well to avoid. After more refreshment, we popped into the rather impressive church and bought some jam, then headed home by way of Big Blue Sky, which seems to have shifted its focus away from books. Still a nice shop, though.

The hotel at Blakeney had been hit by the floods earlier in the year but had recovered well: the food was still good (especially the breakfasts), and as usual we brought the average age of residents down a bit. As usual we started the weekend with tea in the upstairs lounge at the Blakeney Hotel, with its stunning views and first-class scones.

On the Monday both Dot and I had appointments in Blakeney: she had been asked to go to the local church school to assist them in preparation for an inspection, and I called in on Godfrey Sayers, a water colour artist who has written a book on the area, where he has lived almost all his life. He has a house and rambling garden in Wiveton, and the caravan that used to be on the carnser in Blakeney displaying his pictures is now parked there. I have no idea how he got it to the inaccessible spot that it stands in. I asked him, and he said: “Land Rover.” I decided not to pursue it.

He wants me to proof read (by which I think he means edit) his book, and I took it away with me. We talked about it, and about his job as flood warden for Wiveton, and it sounds fascinating. It sits in front of me now, demanding my attention. But so do many other things. I will get to it very soon.

After meeting at the school, Dot and I called in at Cley nature reserve for a scone and drink, plus a short walk, during which we saw a marsh harrier. The scone was a bit of a mistake, because we also called at Jessie’s, where a cake awaited. I was unable to eat much of it.

The Apple picture books I created for our Iona friends have arrived, and have been sent on their way. Quite pleased with them. In sport, a brilliant match between Belgium and the USA (well, the extra time bit, anyway), and a new star at Wimbledon: Nick Kyrgios, a 19-year-old Australian, blew Nadal away.