Another hiatus there, but I’ve been ill. The day before I was ill I led this yomp around Ketteringham, just outside Norwich. The picture is of me a week before, scouting it out. On the actual day (Jan 16) the weather had retreated into normal English winter again: it drizzled for much of the time and was exceedingly grey and bleak, as well as cold.

Still, we enjoyed it – especially the drink at the Red Lion in Eaton afterwards. Dot turned up for that, having given the walk a miss. But we were six: myself, globetrotter Brian Caldecott, professional rambler Liz Parker, author Bruce Robinson, sub-editor Mark Leslie, and diarist Robin “H” Limmer. We started at Ketteringham village hall car park by kind permission of Mrs Saul, took the road east to the monument at the Fiveways and continued in the same direction down a bridleway that was part of the Upper Tas Valley Walk, then south across fields to Lower East Carleton. From there we turned right on to the road west, and at the T-junction crossed on to the field, following paths, mainly across open fields, to East Carleton proper. Here we took the B road west to Lone Cottage, where we struck out slightly west of north across the fields. At the road we turned right and walked to Ketteringham Church, where we had lunch. From there it was a short walk north through woods and across a couple of fields back to the centre of Ketteringham and the cars.

Felt quite invigorated, in a wet sort of way, and prepared for my prostate biopsy the following day. This was relatively painless, and I felt quite well enough to visit my aunt Josephone (90) afterwards, as well as going out for the usual Tuesday evening meal afterwards (Helen’s on this occasion). It was only when I got home from that that I began to feel bad, and had an uncomfortable night. Wednesday was not quite so severe, and I took some paracetamol and went out with Dot for a scheduled meal with Heather and Sam Savigny. But after that I just got worse – very fluey and aching, head and stomach feeling extremely odd. Struggled through a meeting of InPrint the following morning but then went to bed. Assumed it was biopsy-related and went to the doctor the next day for more antibiotics. He didn’t seem to think it was related, but didn’t really know. He gave me the antibiotics anyway (double strength).

Gradually improved later Saturday and made it to church on Sunday. Meanwhile, as I was feeling at my worst, I received the news that I did NOT have prostate cancer. Very odd receiving good news when you feel awful. Your heart wants to leap, but your body won’t let it.