The Olympics are almost over, which means I shall be able to get back to a more ordered lifestyle, whatever that is. Keep popping upstairs to just miss crucial moments, and then sit on sofa for hours while nothing much happens. Watched open-water swimming yesterday, and now feel much more favourably towards the synchronised stuff. At least you know what’s going on, even if you don’t want to.
Some good moments, though. Mo Farah and Jessica Ennis, for instance. But I find myself really interested in people who do well but don’t win the gold, like the American Rupp, who finished second in the 10,000 metres and Yohan Blake in the 100m and 200m; and I’ve never felt so impressed by someone who finished last as by Andrew Osagie in the 800m, whose time would have won gold in any other Olympics.
Anyway. We now have a date for the work to be done in the living room – it will happen in the week after we return from holiday. The only thing that hasn’t been confirmed yet is the furniture removal on the Monday. But at least two people apart from me are pushing the insurance company to arrange it. The living room has remained watertight, and the sheet is still in place. Mr Bunn the Builder hasn’t given me a date yet for the roof work, but the timing there is not critical.
Various redecoration and replacement work is still in progress. The new curtains for the living room and the bedroom were put up yesterday and look excellent. Dot is now painting a wall of the cloakroom and I have put a couple of certificates up on the wall of the study. Meanwhile Andrew has been to stay with us.
Phil and I picked him up on Monday, which was his 64th birthday, and got him to Norwich in time for a birthday meal. Joy and Phil joined us, so there were five of us at Rushcutters for excellent food and a very efficient waitress, too. As we arrived back home for coffee, the Robinsons were driving down the road – returned to pick up their car after watching boxing at the Olympics – and so we invited them to join us, which rounded off the evening nicely. Andrew spent some time talking to Philip R towards the end…
Tuesday turned out fine and mild, so I took Andrew for a tour of the coast. We had a walk at Winterton (beach out, valley in), then some food in the cafe. We then drove up via Sea Palling and Hempstead (where Dot’s mum was born) to Happisburgh, where we parked on the new car park and went to the new loos. Andrew was a bit too tired to walk down the ramp to the beach, so we continued to Mundesley, where I drove to the cliff edge, then back to Stow windmill. Looked round the mill and climbed to the top, which Andrew quite enjoyed, I think.
On Wednesday it turned out that Andrew needed some new shoes, so we went to Clarke’s and bought him a pair for best and one for everyday. The iconic wherry Albion was moored at riverside, so we took a look. Philip called just before lunch with Andrew’s present. Following the remains of the roast chicken I had cooked the previous day, the two of us left for Coventry at 2.15pm in good weather. We called at Folksworth on the way to see our great-great-grandparents’ grave, and I noticed that the owners of an adjacent grave were probably our great-great-great-great-grandparents. The latter would have been born around 1760.
Straightforward journey, despite the lorry irritation factor. Called at Cambridge Services on the way back to find that they had deteriorated to such an extent, and so quickly, that the toilets were unusable. Sad. They started so well.
I have omitted Sunday, which was a full day. I dropped some stuff off at the Vicarage at about 11am, then picked up Phil at 11.45, packing all our instruments in the car with him and Dot. Quite a tight fit. We then proceeded to Potter Heigham, where we embarked on a church boat trip (six boats) to St Benet’s Abbey. I was a bit worried about sinking, as we had the massive Ian in our boat, but it turned out all right, once he had managed to board it. Sadly conditions at St Benet’s Abbey were such that he (wisely) didn’t try to make it to the field where the annual service was taking place and remained in the boat. There was torrential rain just after we arrived, but by the time those of us who could get out of the boat did so, it had slackened off, and there was only the occasional drop during the service itself, at which the Bishop preached (very well, as always). Afterwards we made a quick getaway and had a really nice sail back to Potter Heigham in sunshine and sudden warmth.
Dot needed a cup of teat at Potter Heigham, and so we crossed the bridge and found a pub at which there were only to good things: the tea and the barmaid. No ambience to speak of, and a noisy crowd of young men buying lots of lager. But the barmaid was pleasant and intelligent, so that was all good.
Potter Heigham to Lowestoft took longer than I thought it would, but we arrived at the Seagull in good time to rehearse our songs, and the evening went well. I was particularly pleased with our second set of two, ending on my new song, Feel Like I’m Falling Apart, which I like a lot. And if I don’t who else is going to? (Well, Andrew said he liked it when I played it to him on CD.) In the absence of Ian Fosten, Ivor compered very well indeed, ending with a poem incorporating all the acts. We got home about 10.30pm, having missed Usain Bolt’s first gold, but I think we all thought it was worth it. Which is quite remarkable, really.