Very, very tired. Possibly something to do with the glass of Sauvignon Blanc I’ve just enjoyed; possibly the heat (have just returned from the Rosary, where I removed dead flowers from parents’ grave and caught guilty-looking couple exiting with lilac from a cemetery tree); possibly the fact that Dot has had a cold/cough and I haven’t been sleeping too well; possibly the amount of stuff I’ve been doing over the last few days.
Today I’ve been trying to put together a booklet of my Lent poems. Downloaded some software that seemed promising, but it would only work if you had a printer that printed on both sides (I think), so I have now resorted to juggling the original pages, which will take a bit longer. Why do I get lured into trying something new? The perennial question.
Yes, it is much, much warmer. Summer is with us. I just hope it doesn’t take a good look round, decide it’s had enough and go away just as we head north for our Scottish holiday. No sign of movement yet. Dot was not at all well on Monday, which meant we didn’t go to Alison’s funeral; and to round the day off, Yosif failed to show up for our chess game yet again. Rumour has it that he’s in Bulgaria, east of Hemsby.
I’ve done quite a bit of work for Howard this week but not received any acknowledgement for the last, most complicated piece, which was an EDP-style article on a plan they have to improve orthopaedic pathways. It sounded more exciting in the article, I have to say, which may be why I haven’t heard back.
On Tuesday I spent much of the morning walking around Norwich with Rob Knee, researching the Paston sites. We then met up again in the evening for the Norwich Writers’ Circle prizegiving at the Assembly House. I won the smallest prize for a minimalist poem, which left me unreasonably less than satisfied, as I had nothing else in the anthology. However, I was the only Norwich prizewinner, and the first prizewinner came from Northern Ireland, so I suppose I should be happy. Walked part way home with Rob, his wife Penny and son George. Hilary was also there after a couple of days of being whisked to hospital with suspected heart attacks (probably angina). She wants me to do a workshop on journalism for her handicapped group, but I have nothing against them, so why should I? I suppose I might. Meanwhile the Cracknells’ son Finnan has been in hospital with a muscle infection, which sounds nasty, but he seems to be making a good recovery.
On my way into the city to buy a ball for Oliver, I ran into Joy, who used to clean for us. Mind you, I didn’t work that out until I’d nearly got home. Her daughter Tiffany also “did” for us at one point, but I can’t remember their surname. Vicky M introduced them to us, but she can’t remember either. Frustrating, especially as I said I’d send her a poetry book.
Far back in the mists of time, last Friday,Dot got a spare ticket to go to watch Norwich beat Nottingham Forest 2-1 – an exciting match, but not as exciting as tonight’s derby at Ipswich, which we really need to win, but probably won’t. On the Saturday the Greens came round for a meal, and we had a predictably convivial time, though Anna had to leave early because her shingles was playing up. Howard went with her, which is only right.
By the way, Dot has had her P4C visit to Holland in September confirmed – exciting. She’s spent most of the day in the city with Anne, which must mean she’s feeling better. She has new shoes too.