Monthly Archives: November 2014

Scraping the barrel

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More fireworks. You can't beat a good firework.
More fireworks. You can’t beat a good firework.

I’ve just been to Morrison’s to get some mushrooms and tea, and have noted that Dot is on her way back from Liverpool, though I haven’t heard from her. She and Barbara have been delivering some philosophy to some staff at St Helens; they’ve been doing it all day, and now Dot has to drive back. According to the app, she’s now in Swincliffe Crescent, Cleckheaton, which doesn’t seem to make sense. Ah, well.

Earlier today I visited the doctor again and got in to see him only 35 minutes late. Apparently there is nothing wrong with me. My ultrasound scan revealed only a slight fattiness in the liver (no real problem), and the urology people have not got back to my GP, so that can’t be anything urgent. Or it’s so weird they can’t believe it. I suspect the former.

Quite cold today (and yesterday), but a vast improvement on the weekend, which was almost constant rain, just right (not) for the visit of David, Oliver and Amy. We got the table tennis table out again; so that was all good. But we stayed indoors on Saturday morning, and in the afternoon, during a brief break in the wetness, Dot, David and Oliver went to see Norwich draw 3-3 with Brighton while I spent an hour in Hobbycraft with Amy. She was very careful and wouldn’t let me spend any money on her, but she ended up with a white Christmassy branch / tree, some snow, some lights and some other stuff, which we manoeuvred home.

In the evening we all went with Philip and Anne to Prezzo’s, where we discovered that our favourite waitress was on her last shift and was moving to Nando’s. May have to give that a try.

On Sunday we had to scrape the barrel to get a service together. Ruth was supposed to be leading, but she was in Wales. Then Howard was supposed to be leading and preaching, but he was in London with a family crisis. Phil was in Bristol, and Dot was looking after our family; so I ended up leading and playing the guitar, and Anna did a lectio divina in the sermon slot. Add two unsuspecting readers, and it went quite well.

Our family departed just after 2pm, and the journey back seemed to go reasonably quickly. It was still raining, but Dot and I both decided to go to Soul Circus at the Cathedral with Judy. David and Bridget were there, and it was enjoyable, though I think it could be improved.

Last night I got the bus to attend a Science and Faith lecture at Holy Trinity, where I encountered Peter Bussey and Rod Kibble. It was a very good talk on the mystical experiences that people with epilepsy sometimes had: the speaker was excellent, relaxed and witty and not afraid to use the three words “I don’t know” when he didn’t. Thought-provoking. Annoyingly I forgot to take my phone; so my two-mile walk home did not register on my Moves app.

Going back in time, we had a coffee and compline at Claire’s on the Tuesday and a haircut on Wednesday – just in time for Dot to make it to orchestra rehearsal. An unexpected bonus.

Witches to remember

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Tim, Rob and Dot pre-performance at Heydon.
Tim, Rob and Dot pre-performance at Heydon.

As a follow-up to my urology visit last week I am now measuring the liquid that goes in and out of my body for a couple of days. This may sound straightforward, but it it isn’t. You may (or may not) know how much liquid is in a mug of tea, but I can’t remember the last time I drank a complete mug of tea. And so on…

Since the urology visit, I have also had an eye test; and an ultrasound scan on my stomach and large bowel. The former was straightforward and showed healthy eyes with only  a slight deterioration in reading vision. The latter happened last night, in the middle of a wood on the outskirts of Norwich, as it was getting dark and threatening rain. Ominous but, in the end, straightforward and on time. No news, of course, until I visit the doctor next week, but apparently I have a small gall bladder. Fascinating.

In more exciting news, last Thursday we visited Dragon Hall, in company with the Hendersons (planned) and the O’dells (unplanned) to see Macbeth, performed in the round by theatre group Crude Apache. I have to say it was totally brilliant, with an excellent Macbeth and lady, and undoubtedly the most impressive witches I have ever seen. Fortunately we got through without anyone in the front row being injured by flying swords, but it was a close thing.

On Friday Joe Logan paid his six-monthly visit to tune our piano, this time at a more civilised hour (11.30am). Later in the day, more excitement as we journeyed to Lucy’s 60th birthday celebration, picking up Penny on the way. Part One was in the Corner Cafe in Mundesley, featuring tea, scones and cake; Part Two was at her house and included strange cocktails in teapots, which may have had something to do with the Prohibition theme. Don’t ask me why. It was all laid on by Simeon and Naomi and went with a bang, which would have been the fireworks.

There has been a lot of rain again, and there was plenty of it on Saturday, when we did little but dash to the supermarket. Sunday looked drier, but it was an illusion. After church (at which I preached on the wrath of God, but not in the way you might be thinking) the rain set in in earnest.  We battled through it to Heydon, in the wilds of Norfolk, where Chronicle were putting on a private performance for James and Sue Knox Whittet and a couple of their friends.

Didn’t know what to expect, but it went really well. Islay Cottage was just right, and everything flowed nicely. Afterwards tea, sandwiches, cake and eventually a bit of singing, featuring friend Colin on concertina, some guitar from Caroline and myself and some violin from Dot. Dot and I did Farewell to Philomena, and James and I agreed that Runrig were a top band.

Rattling around as usual

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Fireworks at the Castle, as seen from Aspland RoadFireworks at the Castle, as seen from Aspland Road

As I sit here writing this, my wife is mixing with Royalty. A governor of Little Plumstead Primary School, she is meeting Prince Edward (Earl of Wessex) as he visits the school as part of a Norfolk tour. She was panicking slightly as she left because she had just received an e-mail saying that all the parking places were booked and she should park at the church. She wasn’t sure where that was, but no doubt it all turned out all right.

The weather has remained fairly wintry – or at least autumny. I guess it will remain so till about next May. Not sure humans were ever meant to live at these latitudes. Things have been quite hectic, even without the royalty.

Last Saturday I secured an appointment with my uncle Paul and delivered a version of our family tree that he had requested. Needless to say, he didn’t remember requesting it, but he remembers very little nowadays except who people are. When I rang him to arrange the visit, my cousin Stephen was with him, and I had a quick chat with him. He was very upbeat, despite worsening MS. After a pleasant half an hour, I left Paul to his Wiltshire Farms meal and the opportunity to examine the tree. I’ve had no feedback yet, but he was very appreciative of all my efforts. I said I had enjoyed doing it, which was true.

In the evening we visited another Paul – Henderson of that ilk – who was singing in the Philharmonic at St Andrew’s Hall at the time. Good programme: Debussy’s La Mer (orchestra only), then Lloyd’s Mass, which was excellent. Afterwards Paul and Maryta came back for coffee as the rain beat down, and I drove them home.

Another busy day on Sunday: first the Remembrance Communion at church, led by Howard and with Eleanor officiating and preaching. Reading of the names was emotional as always. Phil had called off both church and the Seagull because of work pressures; so in the afternoon Dot and I drove to Aldeburgh to see James Knox Whittet’s exhibition of sonnets and pictures relating to Islay. Although we missed the opening, we were there in time to see James and his wife – and sample some Islay whisky.

We followed this with fish and chips next door at the Galleon (also excellent) and a brief walk on the seafront in the darkness before heading north to Lowestoft. Dot remembered where there was a Morrisons garage and so we were able to save some money on petrol (we had a voucher). We arrived in Pakefield early and so drove down to the harbour and got a drink at the Harbour Inn, which was unexpected and pleasant. Then on to the Seagull, where we rehearsed for a while. Very few people present; so I got an opportunity to sing three songs and read two poems. Dot accompanied me on two of the songs, but declined on the third.

When we set off for Norwich I left my glasses behind. After searching exhaustively for them at home on Wednesday (after managing without them for a couple of days, assuming they’d turn up) I e-mailed Ian, who not only had found them but was about to travel to Norwich; so he dropped them off yesterday afternoon, while I was out but Dot wasn’t.

Travelled to North Walsham on Monday for a meeting of the Paston Trustees, during which Lucy outlined plans for yet another grant bid – this time for a project that had to be completed by the end of March next year. I pointed out the ridiculously short time frame, but to no avail. She is bidding for the money.

In the early evening Naomi arrived to stay for a couple of nights while she completed some work at the UEA. She planned to leave at 8.30 the following morning, but it was after 9.30 before she appeared. Still, all apparently went well. In the afternoon I had my urology appointment at Cromer. They were running nearly an hour late, and none of the expected things like x-ray and scanning happened. I had a flow test, which was OK, and a bit of an examination, but failed to convince the doctor that anything was wrong. So no change there, then.

Yesterday we took the MX5  in to the garage because of a rattle that I had been worried about for some time. I went for a run with mechanic Wayne (nice bloke), who diagnosed it en route as a loose caliber pin sheath (not sure that’s the right word) on the left front wheel. We left it while he packed it with grease and made sure there was no risk of anything going wrong when Dot travels to Liverpool in about ten days. When we picked it up again in late afternoon, it was much better: Dot also got some new mats, which were remarkably cheap, given the cost of everything else with the name Mazda on it.

While the car was in the garage I paid some cheques in and then went to see The Pity of War, a short piece written by and starring David Newham on the friendship between Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen and including (of course) some of their work. While waiting to go in I bumped into Sue and Roger, and sat with them. Also said hello to Trevor Burton, another ex-colleague and actor, afterwards, as well as congratulating David.

Unfortunately, though, I had to rush off, because I had an appointment to meet Joy McCall and Nick Gorvin at 3pm to discuss plans for my Iona book, which Joy insists on financing. First time I’ve been to her house, which is impressive – especially the Garden Room. All specially adapted so that she can move around freely in her wheelchair. Also met her husband Andy for the first time and was able to check that he didn’t mind his wife spending her money in producing a book for me. He didn’t.

After some deep discussion and a brief chat about the book, I have agreed to make it thicker so that it can be perfect bound. Joy insists. I think Nick is a bit bemused by the whole thing. I suppose I am really.

Back in the tree again

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P1130104This is a historic day. From 10am St Stephen’s was closed to cars and, no doubt, even more traffic chaos will ensue elsewhere in the city. I popped out and took a bus to the top of the street three days ago and took the memorable picture above. Well, more historic than memorable.

Apart from that, not much physical activity from me in the past three days, but I have been putting quite a lot of effort into researching my family tree, having been nudged into it (see last post). Last time I saw my uncle Paul he said he would like me to do him a tree; so I have been trying to put together something coherent. Obviously you can’t get an entire tree on one sheet of paper; so I’ve compromised with several sheets and a couple of pages of notes. Will deliver tomorrow, having spoken to him (and Stephen) on the phone this lunchtime.

The research was interesting and sometimes exciting but mainly frustrating, because of course all the old records which could have included valuable information don’t. For instance, the omission everywhere of a mother’s maiden name is not helpful. Didn’t these people realise how interested so many people would be in where they came from? Oh no, they didn’t. Why should they?

Anyway, I’m now back to my great-great-great-great grandfather on my father’s side, which I suppose is something, though the earliest two generations are slightly speculative. They make sense, though. Nothing really too thrilling, though. About the most exciting thing I’ve discovered is that my great-grandmother was a servant at a chemist’s in Regent Street when she was 26 and unmarried. This also revealed the answer to the question of why she got married in London, when her home was in Northamptonshire and the groom’s home was in Huntingdonshire. So a small triumph there.

Meanwhile the weather has turned very wintry, not encouraging me to go out, though Dot has been to many different schools this week. Naomi has asked if she can stay with us for a while, and I’ve said yes.

Speculation about past

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Julia, Dot and friend in the Higbees' garden.
Julia, Dot and friend in the Higbees’ garden.

Right on schedule, the weather has turned wintry: it is, after all, Bonfire Night tomorrow. Happily the cold conversion was preceded by some unseasonably mild weather, during which Dot and did some tidying up in the garden. But yesterday I ventured into the city with some cheques (accompanied by Dot on a different mission to Dipples and Jarrolds) and a very dark sky presented us with some unpleasantly chilly drizzle.

Ah well: all good things come to an end, they say, and I have also come to the end of my Find-my-Past credits. They warned me their time was running out, so I had a blitz, during which I discovered some stuff about my cousin Brenda, who turned out to be older than I thought, and then a little about my grandmother’s family. I have now decided to abdicate from FMP and stick to Genes Reunited, where I have my Family Tree.

Further speculation about the past occurred last week, when Dot and I went with Judy to a talk at the Quaker Meeting House on fossil evidence for the Flood and a young Earth. It was interesting enough to get Judy and me to a debate two nights later (Friday) at the same place, where the original speaker debated with a vicar who championed Evolution. I had some sympathy with the former speaker, but I don’t think he quite understood that the Bible wasn’t written in English and that references to well known figures could be to legend rather then history. The other guy was more appealing but his dependence on statistics and consensus was not terribly convincing. As always, they didn’t really answer each other’s points.

Why was Dot not present at the debate? She had a ticket to watch Norwich City beat Bolton, about which there was no dispute.

Between these ventures into the past Dot and I had a meal with Angela and Rodney at Prezzo’s, who were understaffed and hard pressed. Still, the meal was nice enough, and it was a pleasant evening, catching up on Auntie Ethel’s latest confusions.

On Sunday, in the absence of Nicholas, en route to Aspen, I led a joint service at the hall. This was because St Luke’s had given the day over to a kind of installation in which people read from the Bible for 24 hours and there was a brazier outside (not sure why). After the service Dot and I went along to hear Judy read from one of Peter’s letters. Our service had 14 Augustinians joined by ten from St Luke’s, and Howard speaking on All Souls, All Saints and Hallowe’en, and suggesting we should pay more attention to All Saints Day.

In the afternoon Dot and I visited Jessie after calling in at a gloomy cemetery to drop off flowers – almost literally, as there was not much space for parking and we were late for Mason Villa. Roger was also with Jessie, and I talked to him quite a bit about his recent America trip and about the flow and power of showers. Nice afternoon. Sad news from Phil about Sam and Lucy, who is still very unwell. Phil and Joy have just spent two weeks with them.