Monthly Archives: July 2015

Strange week

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Just a quick one. This has been an odd week, in suspense waiting to go on holiday. I have spent most of my time catching up with computer and paper work and hoping that the council might empty our brown bin – to no avail. We are leaving it out as we go on holiday, just in case. Mary is looking out for it and may water some flowers.

I have been in the city a couple of times to pay in cheques and to visit the Guildhall in the company of the vicar, plus Carrie Sant and Andrea Cope, from St Luke’s. An invitation went out to all and sundry with an upper limit of nine, but only the three of us made it. I took the opportunity to have a brief chat with the vicar about Ian, which he took well. He seems very anxious about Sunday, because we’re away and Howard will probably be in London, as Anandi has just had her baby – a girl.

The Guildhall tour yesterday was not bad: I learnt one or two things I didn’t know, but the guide was kind of irritating, especially when he gatecrashed our tea with the Sheriff (a woman) and monopolised the conversation. Probably being a bit unfair there: Carrie also had quite a lot to say trying to get money for her work (which is fair enough) and I was feeling extremely hot and tired. Good tea, though.

Today we finished packing, and I paid £20 (for the year) to get Adobe’s pdf conversion gizmo, so that I could put a complicated document with images into the Paston magazine, which I’m putting together in Pages. I had tried a free version off the Internet after much research, but it was useless. I could get the words, but not the images. I will charge Paston, of course.

It will be an odd day tomorrow, because there is a CNS reunion, during which I have to give an hour’s talk on the EDP and my part in its downfall (sorry, that was Spike Milligan and Hitler, which is quite different). Thence we will come home before setting out for Gatwick and a night in a hotel before flying out to Canada.

I am now 70, so I can do what I like

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Beached, and looking its age.
Beached, and looking its age.

So I have managed to reach the age of 70, struggling across the line after eating and drinking too much over the weekend. Yesterday was my birthday, of course, and we had a celebration at church after my sermon on the beheading of John the Baptist. Dot made a delicious chocolate cake and bought champagne. She invited several people, only one or two of whom could come: Vicky and Paul and Maryta (the latter for the celebration only). Really nice to have so many people wishing me well.

I got texts from David and Chrissy in Italy, and in the evening Dot and I went to Cafe Rouge in the Chapelfield Mall with the Robinsons. The restaurant was fairly empty, except for our dentist and his wife, but the food was excellent: I think this type of food is my favourite, especially the way they do steak and chips. We had a free bottle of bubbly too. Hope this restaurant doesn’t go the way of the previous one on Exchange Street. The service was also excellent.

The previous night had been Roger’s 55th birthday party, at Jurnet’s Club. The atmosphere and food were first class, though we didn’t know many people. The music was pretty loud (though good); so both Dot and I found it difficult to conduct conversations. I spent much of the evening listening to Jude, but I practically had to sit in her lap to hear what she was saying. She is apparently being threatened with legal action by a woman in a wheelchair for suggesting it might be helpful if she (the wheelchair woman) brought a friend to the Red Hat excursions to look after her, in view of her disability.

Also spoke to Fiona, George and Debbie (apparently Roger’s new girlfriend, though he’s known her a long time) and surprisingly, Kim Pummell, with whom he went to school. She works as a secretary to various Archant executives, and used to arrange my company cars for me. Meanwhile Dot was having similarly difficult conversations with men I didn’t know.

Earlier in the day I went to a farm at Aylmerton to assist Peter Stibbons with some filming for the Paston DVD. He was already being assisted technically by Paul Damen, but I was found a role as sound man. I also read one of the letters in costume. The location was Tony Colman’s Park Farm (no relation), and because of an anomaly on the map I found it hard to find. Still, better late… Lovely sunny spot. Most of the re-enactors were there.

On Friday the gas man came to service our boiler and discovered we needed a flush-through. I am awaiting a phone call to arrange this. Nice bloke. In the evening we went round the Hendersons for a light meal. No flush-through required.

On Thursday I had taken Joy and Phil to the doctor’s again. It was their 40th anniversary on Sunday and they managed to get to church to celebrate, which was quite an achievement for them, as they find it hard to walk far nowadays, and both get tired quickly.

This week has turned rainy. Joy is worried because the 23rd (when they plan to go to Southampton) is forecast to be 29C. I tried to persuade her that no-one can make accurate ten-day forecasts, but she remains concerned.

High tides and beach walks in North Norfolk

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We’re back from Blakeney, and I’ve had my ears syringed. So I should be able to fly to Canada next week with no problems. I haven’t been able to hear properly for about  a month, and it was a real struggle getting someone to even look at my ears, let alone agree to syringe them. I’ve been putting oil in for the last couple of weeks, which hasn’t been much fun, but hopefully it is now sorted. I may even be able to get a good night’s sleep tonight. They’re still popping, but apparently they have to dry out.

We were first to arrive at Blakeney on Friday, which rarely happens. As usual we all rolled down to the Blakeney Hotel for afternoon tea, but the upstairs lounge was full, so we took advantage of a little room downstairs, just off the lounge. Very pleasant. Then began the series of breakfasts and evening meals which are a feature of life at the Manor Hotel. Nice enough food – and staff – but not exceptional. We had the same room as last year.

Dave and Julia were in good form, but Rosemary had just had some bad news medically: she has a muscle-wasting disease. One thing after another… Very sorry for her: she and Alan are such a nice couple, and Alan has been through the mill too.

It was very warm again on Saturday, and we took care to put on sun cream. We started at the Cley wildlife centre, where we had coffee and looked at the new exhibition building. We then moved on to Salthouse, where we parked at the church and then walked down to the beach and along the shingle for a while before completing a circle by crossing the road and climbing a small hill before taking a path through  barley field.  While still on the shingle we were accosted by a man who warned us about tics, showing us what appeared to be a bite on his wrist in evidence. Don’t know where the tic, if such it was, had come from (he blamed nearby cattle), but we were a bit nervous the rest of the day while quietly confident that tics were not a normal feature of Norfolk beaches.

Back in Salthouse we had a baguette purchased from the Old Post Office, positioned between Cookie’s and the Dun Cow and therefore frequently overlooked. Good baguette, though, and some rather nice ginger beer with chilli. We sat on a seat outside, with Dave and Julia in a disused bus shelter, then walked back up through a tunnel path to the church, where we popped in to look at an art exhibition by Maria Pavledis, who was about to give a talk. She persuaded us to stay, which almost doubled her audience. She was interesting, although I didn’t like her work much (rats figured strongly), but towards the end I felt tired out, and so after a brief stop in Cley where Dave and Julia bought some pottery, we headed back to the hotel. In the evening there was a very high tide, spilling on to the carnser. There was an even higher one the next morning, and the following night.

On Sunday it was a bit cooler. We drove to Holkham, lamented the demise of the restaurant (converted into extra rooms for the hotel), bought some presents in the Adnams shop and then headed to the Victoria for coffee, whereupon it started raining pretty hard. We hung on to the table as many soggy people and a multiplicity of dogs poured in for Sunday lunch, and eventually we decided it would be easier to eat there than to try to find somewhere else; so we had a light lunch (prawns for some, cheese board for others), and when it stopped raining drove on to Brancaster, where we parked in the village and walked down the road to the beach, then round and back by a muddy path to Titchwell. There was a bit more rain, but nothing like as much as at lunchtime. We ended up by the road just outside Titchwell, scarping extremely persistent mud off our shoes. Peter we stopped in Wells for a scone and a cup of tea; sadly the gallery containing Godfrey’s pictures was shut.

Took some nice sunset pictures in the evening.

On Monday we returned to Cley Wildlife Centre and had a coffee, then a chat with a helpful expert called Diane, who got Rachel to turn on the sea surge video for us. After this excitement we drove up to the church, where there was an excellent exhibition, called Marvellous in Ordinary. Some exceptional stuff in there. Afterwards we drove to Wiveton, because the Three Swallows was shut, and had a lunch that was not quite light enough in the magnificent Bell. Back to Blakeney, from where we walked along the newly restored coast path to Cley, misidentifying birds on the way. At Cley we got a Coasthopper back to Blakeney.

Tuesday, and it was all over. Well, almost. The Towns departed for Derby, but Julian and Dave joined us in a stroll in Blakeney, where we visited an excellent art and crafts fair and then, unbelievably, squeezed in a cup of coffee in The Moorings (water for Dot and me) before our noon lunch at Cookies (booked two days earlier). There was a huge traffic jam in Cley; so Dot and I took the back roads and arrived at Cookies about ten minutes before the Evetts, but still late. However, it was raining, and the place was not crowded. We had booked for the absent Towns, but those two seats went to a couple of American cyclists from New England, with whom we had an interesting chat. Afterwards we parted, but it was not all over for Dot and me.

We drove to Neatishead, where Dot had purchased a reduced-price ticket for the radar museum. This was unprepossessing but contained far more than we expected, and the guided tour lasted nearly 90 minutes, by which time Dot and I were practically out on our feet. Very interesting, though, and plenty more to see on a return visit.

To round the day off, we had a compline and cake fixed for the Archers’ at 8pm. Happily Jude took us: it was a pleasant evening as usual, and somewhere before and after we managed to watch the highlights of the British Grand Prix, won by Hamilton.

Old wax, crawling and an ugly spider

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View from the quay at Wells
View from the quay at Wells

The heatwave got here: it’s been in the high 20s for the past few days, but not scorching enough to be uncomfortable. We head for Blakeney today, and while it’s still going to be warm, there’s also a certain amount of rain forecast. I have several possible walks prepared – well, prepared is possibly putting it a bit strongly – but not sure how far we’ll want to walk. Obviously the Royal christening at Sandringham on Sunday is a must 🙂

I’m still having trouble with my ears, but I’ve managed to see a nurse. She says there’s no sign of an infection, but my ears are pretty comprehensively blocked with “old wax”. I’m continuing with the ear drops and putting up with the occasional sharp pain. I’m due to see another nurse next Wednesday for a syringe. Hope that sorts it.

On Monday I left Dot at Jessie’s after dropping a birthday card in at Sheila’s and picking up Jessie from the optician’s. I then continued to Mundesley for a PHS trustees’ meeting, which lasted quite a long time, with periods of obscurity. I returned to Jessie’s for a cup of tea in her conservatory, which was nice, especially as it came with a mince cake.

On Wednesday it was very warm. Dot and I walked to Riverside, where I bought some new batteries at Poundland. I had been having a few problems with my computer after I tried to update some apps. Everything started crawling, and Safari and the App Store refused to quit – some problem with web content on both. I looked at various “solutions” mentioned on the Internet. The one that seemed to work (although it may have been a coincidence) was when I emptied Trash. All of a sudden, everything was clean and very quick.

In the middle of all this the trackpad had run out of batteries, which is why I had to go to Riverside. It turned out well, though, because we bought some birthday presents for me: three(!) pairs of trousers from Next and some new sunglasses from Boots. We also had a drink at Costa (fruit-flavoured iced tea for me, which was surprisingly nice). Later we had our hair cut.

Yesterday we both felt very lethargic, and suddenly Dot had very bad diarrhoea. We still don’t know why, but she had recovered enough to go to Little Plumstead in the evening and have a P4C stall to show parents what had been going on. She spent a long time preparing, but none of the Year 5 parents came, which was a bit disappointing. She was able to speak to come others, though, including Brigitte Williams, daughter of the legendary David, who has two children at the school.

Earlier in the day we took the car to be cleaned, and while it was being done I went to look at the church water meter, about which Anglian Water had raised some query (possible leak). I had to knock up the guy in whose drive the manhole cover was, because I couldn’t find it – largely because he’d covered it with stones. Eventually I managed to lift it and discovered a particularly ugly looking spider, which I managed to avoid while noting the reading. I was unable to get the cap off, however; so I’ve written to Anglian Water explaining that they had my name and address wrong, as well as the address of the premises – and could they come and see if it needed looking at professionally. Howard has decided he “would prefer it if someone other than me engaged with Anglian Water”. Well, so would I, actually.

Ah, well. Time for a break.