This is Dot’s cousin Roger in typically relaxed style, pictured at Jessie’s last week. Another family meal looms on Sunday, when quite a large number of people are due at Angela’s at Dereham to celebrate Ethel’s 85th. This was supposed to be a sort of a secret, but the cat has been let out of the bag by someone who shall remain nameless. As the nameless person’s husband is in hospital with pneumonia again, she can be forgiven. Dot has been at Ethel’s this afternoon, calling in with presents on her way back from Yarmouth, where she has had her first school visit as diocesan school support officer, followed by lunch with her friend Anne. She is keeping pretty busy: a long afternoon yesterday was spent with Barbara preparing for next Tuesday’s head teachers’ conference, including a visit to the venue – St Luke’s Church Centre.

This morning I got over an appallingly shoddy loss at chess last night by going for a walk that turned out to be nearly four miles. It started innocently enough with a call at the sorting office to post a letter for Dot, but then got out of hand. I walked up through the Rosary, down the steps to Cintra Road and down on to Thorpe Rod, left and up the hill again via Stanley Road and Harvey Lane, then through what was Pinebanks and down a footpath back on to Thorpe Road and up to the River Green. I sat on a seat for a while in the sun – the weather was really mild compared to what it has been recently, people were feeding ducks, geese and swans, and it was all pretty idyllic really. I then went really mad and walked up to Whitlingham Lane and over the rail footbridge on to the river path, where I noticed that work on the third Whitlingham Broad was far advanced. All we need now is a bridge over the river from Thorpe to Whitlingham. Someone … Anyone? A couple of pretty ramshackle vessels were moored there, and an old man had got a fire going on the bank. Not sure what for. I returned to the main road and caught a bus back to the station, feeling I had earned my favourite cheese and onion sandwich, which I bought from Budgens.

The rest of the day I’ve spent writing some liturgy for our Tuesday group. Sort of experimental, based on a book we went through for Advent and Epiphany. I had a phone call from Annette last night saying there had been a radio programme about the Paston book, following a page of publicity in the EDP, and as a result we had sold another four of the big hand-made books at over £1000 each. It would have been nice to have had this news the day before, when 15 artists and poets met at Cringleford to discuss the future of the project. The meeting was at poet Adrian Ward’s rather splendid house, and was followed by an InPrint meeting, which didn’t last long after I’d persuaded everyone to admit that they didn’t really want to apply for a grant to do stuff they didn’t really want to do and didn’t have time for. So we shall proceeed with the Paston project, producing more work, hopefully, and maybe running some more workshops. I’m not too bothered about the workshops, but Annette, Caroline and Lisa are keen. Fuller story on InPrint website.

Before the Cringleford meeting, Dot and I went to Martin Laurance’s exhibition at the Grapevine on Unthank Road – a splendid gallery which will be home to a Paston exhibition from March 29. Martin is a superb artist and worked on the Paston project (he used a couple of my poems for collaborative pieces). The private view was pretty full, and Rosemary, the librarian from Archant was there. So were Annette and Caroline, and so were some other Paston people, though I didn’t see them. They had probably already left by the time we got there. Dot and I only had a few minutes there because we’d been to church (I had been preaching on the conversion of St Paul), and Caroline gave me a lift to Cringleford so that Dot could take the car home. Later Dot picked me up and we gavc Lisa and her two children, Dash and Blossom, a lift to their place in Pottergate.

This afternoon Phyllis Seaman from church called unexpectedly with a gift of some windfall cooking apples. I love stewed apples. It’s my one weakness. No, it’s really one of many.