Couldn’t stay away from the Assembly House yesterday. At lunchtime wandered up to attend the Archant annual meeting as usual. Quite strange, really: an inordinate number of suits, and a distinct lack of people from my former areas, though one of my trainees spoke to me about the new design system, and another one featured on the video about it. He is now a news editor. Brian C was the only member of the subbing group to show up: no Bruce, Robin, Peter or Hugh. This despite the excellent wine and buffet. The actual meeting was peculiar too: in the absence of chief inquisitor Mike P, no questions were asked at all following Mr J’s unusually monotone presentation: possibly the recession has brought out the Trappist in everyone. Spent some time towards the end talking to Cliff Butler’s widow Audrey, who was delighted that we remembered him, and to Jennie Downing, John’s widow, who seems as feisty as ever.

Back to the Assembly House with Dot in the evening for the Norwich Writers’ Circle open poetry competition prizegiving. Endearingly amateur organisation, with no-one seeming to know how things were going to be done, if indeed they were going to be done at all. But eventually I was announced as the winner for my poem Failing Fire, which I wrote in January after gazing into the fire after a succession of those January days in which dawn seems to slide straight into dusk with nothing in between. North Walsham cemetery made an appearance too, though incognito. To my surprise, the three other poems I submitted were also highly commended and thus got into the anthology. I read three of them and should have read the other one, but my lack of willpower got the better of me.

Very strangely, a headteacher who Dot had spoken to on the phone earlier in the day was also there, sitting next to Nic from church – who had two poems in the anthology. Also the former chair of governors at Tuckswood. Small world. There were about 620 entries from all over the country (and one or two from further afield), so I was very pleased. The judge was Hilary Mellon, a poet whose work I enjoy very much.

Today Dot has been busy: first at Brooke for a DSSO visit, and this afternoon leading four sessions at a conference for aspiring head teachers. She has spent a huge amount of time preparing for it (with some help from David); so I hope it goes well. I have just put the dinner on; she should be home soon. Managed to get in an hour’s walk this morning – Dot dropped me off at the Martineau Lane roundabout and I walked up into the city via Long John Hill and then paid in my poem cheque before walking home. Quite chilly weather, but good for walking.