Pause for breath. Have just arrived home from Blakeney, and Dot is about to leave for Brooke school, where she is sitting in on Ofsted feedback. Earlier we had lunch at Cookie’s, which was preceded by a short walk down to Salthouse beach, in the course of which we stumbled upon a geocache. As you do.

On the coast it’s a bit cooler than it has been but the previous two days were  especially warm, and I had to have suncream applied before we went for two longish walks – from Holkham to Wells (Monday) and from Burnham Overy Staithe out to the distant beach (Tuesday). On Monday we had lunch at the rather upmarket Beach Café, then walked round town for a bit before getting the Coasthopper back to Holkham. On Tuesday we drove to Burnham Deepdale for lunch, having had early coffee/tea at The Hero. Excellent Deepdale sandwich, but very sore eyes, presumably because of pollen.

We had arrived at Blakeney quite late on Sunday, after my preaching at church and then watching England beating Panama 6-1. Should have been more, but they lost interest in the second half, and so did we. Hamilton won the French grand prix and England completed a one-day whitewash against Australia, but we missed all that.

Back to the biggest day of a very big week, which was the celebration of our Golden Wedding on Saturday at Angela and Rodney’s house. The weather was perfect – sunny and warm but not too hot, and so were the surroundings. The guests were also delightful: David, Oliver and Amy; Denise and Peter; Anne and Philip (on crutches because of a recent fall on holiday); Fred and Sue; Jessie, Roger and Debbie; Dave and Julia; Alan and Rosemary; Donna and Andy; Phil and Joy; plus Vicki and Chris Ellis off and on.

We had a great time, and I think everyone enjoyed it. Admittedly it was over a month early (our wedding anniversary is July 27), but we will be in Canada then. I gave a short speech, and Fred a much more interesting one, borrowing from Gilbert and Sullivan. Having forgotten to tell everyone not to bring gifts, we also received some nice presents.

Fred was also in fine G&S form the previous day, which was a CNS Reunion event, starting at the Louis Marchesi for a very good lunch and continuing at St Mary at Palace Plain for a fascinating talk by Geoff Tudor, who has been living in Japan for 40 years, followed by Fred’s account of his life, which included a number of G&S extracts with assistance from other old boys and Bev McInnes, who is Sue’s cousin and a colleague of Dot (violin) at Sillars. In this case she sang and played piano, though most of the latter was done by Andrew Barnell. Would like to have heard more G&S: most songs were cut short.

Thursday was big day too, because at 7.45am my old friend David Coomes died. I received the news while walking with Dot and the Evetts from Bakery and towards the Wiveton Fruit Farm and cafe. By the time I had finished talking to a very distraught Kristine, the others (blissfully unaware) had entered the cafe and were about to order lunch.

After lunch we continued to Cley and looked at the house Dot had booked for October, when David and the children will be coming up for part of half term. We now know that they will also be going to Canada next month and will be coming back with us while David stays on. He will also be arriving earlier than them: they will travel on their own, having been delivered to Gatwick by their mother.

After all this, we arrived back in Norwich in time for me to go to a book launch at NRO, where I chatted with the publisher; the director of NRO, who I know reasonably well; and Joseph Mason, who writes a blog about Norfolk and Suffolk which I often read and sometimes comment on. As a boy, he lived near my grandmother at Poringland. His wife Molly is friendly with the wife of one of the photographers at the EDP in times past – Dennis Whitehead.

Popped up to Hungate on Saturday to meet the Knees and deliver some copies of the Paston Footprints books for sale there while the exhibition is on. Hardly anyone there, but volunteer Brendan said there had been quite a few: the exhibition is open every Saturday and Sunday.

Had a cup of tea with the Knees afterwards, and another one with the Hendersons in the afternoon. We sat in the garden: neither of them seemed very well – Paul is on antibiotics for a chest infection, and Maryta appeared to have a cold, which was rather worrying. Dot baked a cake, because she knew they were coming.

On Sunday we had an experimental  Communion with Liz C and Liz D. Dot and I sang one of my songs during the actual Communion (Hear my cry), and I got some nice reaction from Liz C and Jenny, who hadn’t heard it before.  Chris and Ray weren’t there, although Chris seems to be recovering very well from her major operation in London last weekend.

In the evening we went to St Luke’s for a performance by the Oriole Singers and St Gregory’s Orchestra of a Schubert Mass and a cantata called The Road to Emmaus by local composer Peter Cresswell, who was present. Audience not as big as for his Christmas work, but actually this was much better: some good tunes and good soloists. Vicky was on flute.

More culture on Monday, which we spent at Snape and Aldeburgh, starting with lunch at the Crown Inn, Snape, with Howard, Anna and Penny, and continuing with a remarkable performance by Michael Barenboim on violin at Aldeburgh church. We had unreserved seats, but a really good view from the side aisle. Two Bach pieces and Bartok excellent: two modern pieces rather less so, unless you were fascinated by violin technique.

Afterwards Dot and I returned to Snape for a walk and a look at an exhibition of drawings of cathedrals in charcoal, with which I wasn’t particularly impressed. We sat not far from Michael Barenboim for tea in the Maltings cafe, then raced back to Norwich to catch most of the England-Tunisia World Cup game. Quite frustrating until we scored in the last few minutes.

Speaking of racing, our grandchildren did superbly well in their school races: Amy won her 800 metres, about which she had been worrying, and Oliver won his 800m and 1500m. Obvious where they get it from. 🙂

Even more culture yesterday, when we travelled to Oxnead with Judy to watch a performance of Robert Paston’s  Whirlpool of Misadventures in the hall grounds. I don’t know what I expected, but it was brilliant, starting in the main banqueting room and moving all round the grounds, including the church. Everything about it was top class: the direction and script, the acting and singing. It was put together by Holly Maples, an American, who I knew from a volunteers’ event earlier in the year. She was responsible for the script and direction, some of the acting and some excellent singing. I congratulated her afterwards, and we also had a word with some of the other actors after we’d had half a cider in the bar (orangery). All very clever – the audience were drawn into it instead of standing (or sitting) separate all the time.

So going to Jurnet’s in the evening was a bit of an anti-climax. I never really feel at ease there, but there was some good poetry from Sue Burge – a bit of local celebrity. There was also some pretty bad poetry. Hilary performed an excellent one about being in love with the sea, and I was astonished to find that almost no-one seemed to have heard of sculptor and jazz musician David Holgate (I read Never going away, which is dedicated to him). I also read Distant funeral, then walked home. Meanwhile, Dot was picking up our golden wedding cake from Marion’s.

This morning, after I dropped off Dot for an x-ray on her knee at the hospital, I drove to the chemist for a renewed prescription and dropped off a GDPR form at the printers.

It’s been quite warm over the last few days. On Sunday I had to lead the service after Carrie found she’d double-booked herself and needed to be at the Cathedral. (We’ve all been there.) Howard, making a rare visit, preached on end-of-life revival, in a manner of speaking. Very good, anyway. In the afternoon Dot and I decided to drive to Bacton to see Lucy’s Open Studio, but she wasn’t there; so we had a nice time talking to her colleague, Jo Arnold, whose house it was. Bought one of her small sculptures for £30.

Afterwards we parked near the beach and walked along the top towards Walcott. It was high tide, with waves splashing over the prom. Later we called at Happisburgh and went to the loo, but couldn’t go for a walk there as we had no coins for the parking meter.

On Monday afternoon we decided on the spur of the moment to buy me some new clothes. Our quest started badly at Jarrolds but ended successfully at M&S, where I ended up with a new suit and a jacket. We then went to Skechers in the mall, and I bought two pairs of shoes. Dot bought one (pair, not shoe). We were served by an excellent assistant, who made me want to buy the whole store, but I resisted.

On Tuesday morning I had my tooth out. I’m glad it’s gone: it had been irritating me more and more for several months, possibly years. It had a great chunk of gold on the top of it; so I am now worth slightly less. Still, I have the tooth. No bad after-effects, but I didn’t feel up to going to a talk on the dead sea scrolls, which I had pencilled in for the evening.

Yesterday we took the MX5 in for a service and MOT, and I was pleasantly surprised when it emerged unscathed, but with new windscreen wipers.  It was due to be collected at 5pm, but we left it overnight and picked it up just after 11 this morning. Last night, while Dot was at orchestra, I went to the launch of three poetry pamphlets at Anteros, at which the only person I knew was Hilary Mellon, the compere. The poetry was pretty ordinary, and I told Hilary afterwards that hers was far better. So is mine, actually. Obviously I wouldn’t say that to just anybody.

This afternoon I popped into the city to buy some Communion wafers, because the ones at church had gone missing. I lingered by the Cathedral green so as not to exert myself too much (because of the tooth extraction) and resisted the temptation to buy an ice cream. Dot and I are on a 5:2 diet, which means we don’t eat much on two days out of five. I have lost a bit of weight…

It’s been cooler the last couple of days. Yesterday we drove out to Beeston Regis to visit Fred and Sue at their caravan, and the north-east wind made that area much chillier than inland. Nevertheless after a chat we went for a short walk, and later drove to East Runton to have a meal at a Greek restaurant. The food was pretty good, and this was followed by Greek music and a lot of audience participation, during which I kept my head down on the pretext of taking a video of it.

Today we were up at the church hall shortly after 10.30am to help with a kind of spring clean. I didn’t do a great deal except sort out the noticeboard, put up a couple of mirrors, return some vases to the church and quite a bit of dish-drying. Oh, and a bit of moving stuff about. It was nice to be with people from both church and Monday Club.

Over the last few days I’ve written three new poems, two of which I sent off to a competition. I sent another new one to another competition a couple of weeks ago, but I’m not going to make a habit of it. It just seemed the right thing to do. Flawed Beauty and Chasing the Moon went to the Crabbe competition, and Background Music to Bridport. The first one was based on a sermon by Eleanor, the second was about my father and the third was rather gloomy.

I have got round to doing something about my teeth: I went to the dentist on Thursday, and he decided (with my agreement) to take out one of my back teeth at the top. This is scheduled for next Tuesday. Meanwhile I am on antibiotics. My pharmacist disagreed with my hairdresser and said it would be perfectly OK to stop taking statins; so I am doing that, in an attempt to stop coughing. I seem to be a bit better, but I have bad moments.

I checked with the garage about a warning light on my car, and it turns out it’s nothing to worry about: so I’m not worrying about it. Apparently it’s just there to remind me to book a service, which I’d already done. You can have too many warning lights.

Just back from Anne Travis’s funeral at the old church. Dot, Phil and I played the hymns, Dot read a poem and I read from the Bible. Liz Cannon took the service. I felt it went really well – Dot was able to help Chris Denton with reading out her daughter’s tribute to her grandmother, and Andy (Chris’s brother) spoke emotionally about his mother. Refreshments afterwards in the hall, organised by Carrie and Sophie. Sunny day, too, although the chilly wind has returned.

Before that I walked up to the Archant coffee morning. Robin, Brian and spouses were there (Brian not too well), and Maryta came on her own because Paul has a chest problem. I have had a mouth and throat problem over the last few days (well, more like weeks, but it was particularly bad yesterday). I see that statins can give you throat and nose problems: so I may try to ease off them. I was warned against this by Linda, our hairdresser; so I may consult our pharmacist.

While Linda was here yesterday, Luke the electrician, who lives just over the road, came over and put in a number of new sockets, as well as fixing the oven light. We now have a number of extension cords going spare, but the place looks much neater. New sockets under my study desk, in the kitchen by the door, in the shower room (waterproof) and in the garage (quite a complex job involving the bending of pipes). Hey ho. Rather an odd day all round.

On Sunday I led the service, and Eleanor preached a good sermon on flawed beauty that reminded me of Leonard Cohen (“There’s a crack in everything; that’s how the light gets in”), only the other way round. Afterwards we cleaned up the old church in preparation for today’s funeral, and had a light lunch before driving out to see Jessie.

Saturday was a big day as far as Dot was concerned, because it was the Sillars proms concert at St Peter Mancroft. Although the day was dark and damp, there was an excellent attendance, including Des and Chris, Anne and Philip, the Hendersons, Angela, Rodney and Vicki, David and Bridget and Robin and Shelagh. The orchestra played very well: good acoustics, too. Earlier I had gone with Dot to pick up a music stand from the church hall, and for some reason I can’t work out (it made sense at the time), she dropped me at the far end of Silver Road, so that I could walk home while she returned a defective rose to the garden centre in Sprowston. We arrived home at exactly the same time.

The previous day we went to Caddington to see David, Oliver and Amy, but got delayed on the journey down by resurfacing work. Nevertheless, we had a good time with them: I managed a short walk, Amy did some baking with Nana and David took Oliver for a swim. David is now in Canada.

On Thursday I watered Phil’s flowers for the second time (he is now back from Southampton), and the day before I did a short walk at Blofield, checking on whether certain places could be accessed (they couldn’t). Not doing badly with my steps: May was the best month since last August.