Improvement continues, but not very quickly. Two steps forward, one back. Dot and I are both in circulation, as it were, but very much lacking in energy. On Friday we were determined to meet Heather and Simon for lunch. They had come down from Leicester for the weekend by train, and we met for lunch at the Coach and Horses, which was surprisingly good, though maybe a bottle of Prosseco between three of us was not such a good idea.

We had a good chat (despite Prof Heather being obviously below par and possibly catching something), and then they continued on into the city as we went home. For some reason we were then completely unable to do anything else and ended up on the sofa, watching TV. Two good films, actually – The Ides of March (a political thriller) and Kingsman: The Secret Service (on Netflix).

On Saturday I didn’t feel up to going to the Norfolk Record Office event, so I didn’t. Happily it didn’t matter, as Rob went on behalf of the PHS.

On Sunday I did manage to get to church and assist with the guitar playing, though I don’t think I was quite with it. Dot stayed in bed and then went to the Norwich v Ipswich football match, which had a noon kick-off and she thought was less of a strain. (Not sure about that.) It turned out to be a 1-1 draw, and Dot brought some fish home, which was nice. I was feeling much improved by the evening.

Today, however, I don’t feel quite so with it. It’s raining, and  I think I’ll take some Paracetamol. On the plus side, Chrissy is now in England, having arrived safely on Saturday. Phil is still in hospital with leaking fluid problems, though apparently not so much pain. Dot is visiting a school, having cancelled another visit earlier.

When will it all end? Since I last wrote, Phil has been in hospital for his spinal operation, which seemed to go well. But since then he has had disturbing side-effects. Not that I have any first-hand knowledge, because I have been too ill to go and see him.

Yes, I’ve now managed to acquire an upper respiratory tract infection, which proceeded in traditional fashion, meaning that I’ve been out of commission for three days, and feeling pretty lousy. Managed to get up today, but made the mistake of ringing the surgery to find out about my blood test. Turns out I have a kidney problem of some sort, but not urgent enough to get me an appointment within the next month. Dot is pretty angry about this and is trying to make me ring for an urgent appointment tomorrow. I have to say I don’t feel right in that area, but then again, I don’t have any urgent symptoms like pain or blood loss, just a certain tightness which may not be anything to do with it.

She herself still coughs a lot, but she seems to feel all right, apart from a loss of energy. She went to orchestra last night, and today she braved Storm Doris to go to Fleggburgh  School, and later to the sugar champagne party at Kirby Bedon, which I was sorry to miss.

Happily, on Monday morning, by some freak of circumstance, I was well enough to attend the Paston Footprints steering committee meeting at our house, and was able to take the minutes. Dot made some excellent biscuits, but I’ve still lost half a stone. The trouble with an URTI is that you can’t read or watch TV. You just have to lie there. Getting pretty fed up.

We are gradually getting back into some kind of circulation, but it’s a slow process. Nothing much happened on Monday and Tuesday as Dot and I finished our courses of antibiotics, but on Wednesday I drove up to the surgery for a blood test (and delivery of a specimen), and walked into the Rosary briefly (from the back entrance) on the way back.

On Thursday we both had our hair cut by Linda, then later walked up to the post office to post a couple of things, one of which was my DNA specimen to the USA. I am going to find out where I’ve come from. Not sure if this will turn out to be a good idea, but it’s something that’s been in the back of my mind for a long time.

Later Howard rang and then popped round for a cup of tea. He also brought some eggs and sausages, so we had sausages, eggs and chips for supper. Had an interesting talk about, among other things, St Augustine’s Way.

Really good news late last night from K, who feared that cancer was spreading to both breasts, but it isn’t. Now we need some good news from my brother, who is having a critical, high-risk operation today to try to put right his spinal problems. Meanwhile I have had to call Green Flag to get the MX5 started, following which I took it for a run to Brundall.

I said nothing much happened on Monday and Tuesday, but we did in fact watch The Crown – all ten episodes – on Netflix. It’s an ill wind…

Not a good week for the Lenton family in general. David contracted a very nasty virus – possibly flu – and Oliver and Amy had a touch of it too, though they cast it off much more quickly. David is still full of cold and coughing, but says he feels a bit better. Meanwhile Andrew has been sectioned, though they haven’t found a bed for him yet.

Dot and I have done no better. She contracted a very similar virus to the one she had before, and was coughing so badly I insisted she went to see the nurse and got some antibiotics. I think she’s improving now, though we’re both very lifeless. In my case that’s partly because I lost some blood while trying to use my catheter, and we had to call an ambulance. I was also in quite a bit of pain. The paramedics arranged for me to see a doctor, who thought it might be kidney stones.

The pain got worse the following day, and in the end Dot rang the doctor (a different one), who thought it sounded like an infection and prescribed antibiotics. I asked about pain killers, and she wasn’t keen on anything stronger than Paracetamol, which were actually useless. After taking the first antibiotic I also took some Cocodamol, and this eased the pain enough for me to go to sleep. When I woke up late in the evening, the pain had gone.

Last night I was very uncomfortable again; so took some more Cocodamol: to be honest I was terrified that the original pain would come back. However, it hasn’t yet, though  I remain very tight round my lower abdomen.

We cancelled everything for last week, which meant Dot failed to see her team beat Nottingham Forest 5-1, and apart from going to the doctor, I only went out once – to the supermarket yesterday. I had to get someone else to do my sermon today (the vicar, actually). This morning it snowed, and the sky is leaden – which is pretty much how we’re feeling.

A dark and murky day, marking the dark and murky end of a weekend at Buxton. Dot is in bed again with a bad cough, and I have lesser problems elsewhere, though there was a point on the drive home yesterday that I thought I had either kidney stones or appendicitis. The pain was so bad that Dot had to drive the last 30 miles, even though she was unwell. In fact I now believe it was trapped wind, which can also be pretty painful. I am also hovering on the brink of a cold, but hoping to step back from the edge. It’s all very déjà vu.

Despite all that, the weekend was not a disaster, except for Julia, who came with a bad cough and was clearly not feeling well throughout. She didn’t manage either of the walks. The first on Saturday afternoon was a repeat, through the park, past the golf club and up to the cross on top of Corbar Hill: only Dot made it all the way to the top – I stayed by the wall with Dave to keep him company. The second, on the Sunday, was from Hathersage up into the hills to the south and back along the River Derwent path: this possibly qualifies as the muddiest walk I’ve been on. Ever. Still, the weather was good (both days), and it was enjoyable.

While we were doing the latter walk, Julia was sitting in the David Mellor cafe, until she was given some hard looks and had to remove to the car. We were in such a muddle that we forgot to pay for our visit, and it was only when we returned after the walk for Lardy cake and ice cream (gooseberry and elderflower) that we remembered. We apologised and paid the total – they seemed quite pleased.

On the Saturday morning Julia had accompanied us to the idiosyncratic bookshop in Buxton – a strange experience, especially as I was feeling peculiar (something in my bowels) – and we had lunch in the Pavilion cafe, before Julia retired to her room and lay down.  The meals at the restaurant were very pleasant, and it was nice to see our usual waiter and waitresses still in situ. Dave seemed to be getting a cough too on the Sunday. That’s the Caribbean for you.

On the way up to Buxton (an arduous journey) we stopped off to see Andrew, who had had his head shaved accidentally (in the sense that Helen was very annoyed that the staff had done it, although Andrew had agreed) and presented a somewhat esoteric appearance. We stayed for about an hour and chatted to Helen as well as to him. Head apart, he didn’t seem too bad.

On the way back we had intended to visit Ralph and Lynne at Darley Dale, but neither Dot nor I was feeling well enough. The journey was arduous again – very slow going on the A52 (the M1 was a no-go area, with long delays), a hold-up because of a nasty accident near Grantham and gradually increasing discomfort as far as I was concerned. We made it home about 3.20pm and didn’t do much after that.

Last Friday we drove down to London to see Kristine and David – both of them looking rather fragile. We had a delicious apricot tart and a reasonable journey in both directions.

Following supper with the Hendersons last Saturday, I realised I was supposed to be leading the service the following day. This was only temporarily alarming, and by the next morning all was in order. Liz Cannon did some Godly Play instead of a sermon. This is infinitely better than it sounds, and had the virtue of making the church year sound not only logical but inevitable.

In the afternoon we visited Jessie after taking flowers to the cemetery at North Walsham. It was Dot’s mum’s birthday. She would have been 97.

I have just read three books – Testimony, by Robbie Roberston of The Band (good stories about early Band and Bob Dylan, among many others); Dear Mr M, by Herman Koch (a very clever novel about a Dutch novelist and youthful indiscretions), and The Lewis Man, by Peter May (compelling thriller set in the Hebrides, with lots of local colour). I am now reading a book dissecting the science we think we know, which is fascinating.

On Monday Dot and I went to an exhibition at the Victoria & Albert museum. As this happened to be in London, we went there, leaving on the 11am train, travelling by Circle line to South Kensington and then walking via a subway to the V&A. As soon as we got there we ate in the cafe – each of us had a baguette with salad.

The exhibition was Revolution? Records and Rebels 1966-1970, and we had been given free tickets by Roger, who had been given them by Judith, who works at the V&A. Normally it would have cost £16 each to get in; so it was something of a bargain. It was also sensationally good, with a location-sensitive sound system and plenty of video archive. It culminated in a film of Woodstock projected on to walls and ceiling.

Afterwards we made our way by pavement and tube to Leicester Square, and thence towards Covent Garden, where we happened on an Apple store, which was fortuitous, as we needed a new charger connection for Dot’s iPhone. In the event we got two, so that we didn’t have to keep swapping them around when we went in the car. We also got directions to a wine bar called Li Veli (at least, that’s where we ended up), where we had some excellent wine, some coffee and some olives for very slightly less than we would have paid to go into the exhibition.

Afterwards something peculiar happened, and it wasn’t because of the wine. I think it actually happened earlier, when we came out of Leicester Square tube station. I normally have a very good sense of direction, but in trying to reach Tottenham Court Road, nothing seemed to make sense, and I eventually came to the conclusion that what I had thought was north was in fact south, which is about as wrong as you can get.

This feeling was confirmed as we approached Trafalgar Square, and after that it was plain sailing. We went down to the embankment to have a look at the river, which was where it should have been, and then caught the tube from Embankment back to Liverpool Street, where we were just right for the 7.30pm back to Norwich. A really good day.

Yesterday Annette came to lunch. I went and bought some cheese and salad, but in the end we had sausage, egg, bacon and chips, plus a good catch-up conversation. She and Mike are no longer vegetarians (obviously), and their new living and working arrangements are going well. She looked very well, and has a new car. New to her, anyway.