A long weekend – at least if you measure it in miles. Total: just under 500. It started on Friday, as so many weekends do. Rob picked up the completed Paston poetry book, Another Country, on CD to take it to the printers. I have heard nothing since, so I assume that all was well with it.
Dot had been at Dickleburgh in the morning, so there was bit of a rush at lunchtime. We eventually left at about 2.30pm for Banbury, and after negotiating a hold-up in Riverside, we enjoyed a trouble-free journey. I was particularly impressed by the new junction of the A421 and the M1, which had been complete chaos last time we were in the vicinity. Got a bit lost in Banbury, but arrived at the Riches’ abode before 5.30pm. Fred was already rehearsing for his role as Lord Chancellor in Iolanthe, so we had tea with Sue and Marjorie, Fred’s sister, with her husband Pat, who had also travelled from Norfolk for the evening’s performance.
I love Gilbert and Sullivan, so Iolanthe, in Banbury School theatre, was a treat, despite the heat. Really good performance by the local operatic society, and Fred was excellent: really good acting and a great performance of a couple of difficult songs.
On Saturday we headed south on the M40, then anti-clockwise round the M25, stopping for a very acceptable lunch (fish and chips for me) at Clacket Lane services, where a girl called Donna was holding the restaurant together (and probably not getting paid much for it). Good service should be much better rewarded. Dot bought a kind of furry top and we headed ever south-eastwards, taking the M26 and M20, before switching to the M2 and A2. Dot had driven to Banbury, and I drove this time: it was again a very pleasant journey in glorious autumn sunshine.
We found our way to the tiny village of Nonington and our B&B establishment, a beautiful old house called Farthingales, run by a very solicitous guy called Peter. Nonington is the home of Pat and Barry Clayton, and we were there for their ruby wedding celebration that evening in the village hall. We walked from Farthingales in the sun to the village hall down a country lane and decided that maybe we’d take the car in the evening, though I couldn’t see where we’d park. I needn’t have worried: cars lined the narrow village street, and we joined them.
It was an enjoyable do, with some good music – mainly from a duo on guitar and accordion singing 6os songs. Much better than it sounds. Lots of family and neighbours present, of course: the only people we knew apart from Pat and Barry were Rob and Sue Bushell, with whom we sat and talked (when we could hear each other). Nice curry and some free wine. The B&B was really nice, with a huge private lounge-cum-dining room, and the breakfast yesterday was first-class.
An easy journey up the M2 and M20 got us on to the A20 without touching the M25, and we arrived at the Hendersons’ in Eltham at around 10.40am, which meant we could see Maryta’s sister and brother and their spouses before they left with Maryta’s father, Joe. They had stayed the night after a party the previous night for Maryta’s 60th. Unfortunately Joe and Holly had left even earlier. We had lunch with Paul and Maryta and looked though a book on the school to mark its centenary on the Eltham site – partly designed by Maryta. The book, that is. Not the site. We left for home when Paul took Maryta to work and arrived before 6pm. Happily the Humax had recorded Norwich City’s epic 1-1 draw at Liverpool. Watched what is allegedly the last episode ever of Spooks.
This morning the accountant has been here with Dot and Barbara.