It’s coming up to 7am, and I’ve been awake since 4 – up and about since 5.15. This is an aftermath of my endeavours in the last two days to book a flight to Florida for next April: a process that drove me so crazy I had to lie down under the bedclothes yesterday evening with blood rushing round my head. In the end I was making repeated online attempts to confirm that it had gone through, together with numerous calls to both the website operators and Barclaycard. During all this I also booked a car which was probably too expensive, but I had lost the will to even discuss it.
This came after about a week of not getting enough sleep, which is worrying as I know this makes me prone to illness, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Things just seem to pile up.
A week ago we had a Paston trustees’ meeting out at Dayspring. The journey out there was pretty awful, obstructed by a series of dawdling drivers, but the meeting was OK. Unfortunately I haven’t had time since to write the minutes, and as I rely quite a lot on remembering what was said to fill out my notes, this is rather worrying. I feel sure there were some other things I had to do as a result of the meeting, but let’s hope that’s in my notes.
On the Wednesday we had Sophie round for lunch – in the garden – and afterwards I went with her to visit Geoff, who is making more progress. His left side is a bit more mobile, and the doctor was optimistic about his feet. It became clear too that he can read, though he finds it difficult to read aloud and still forgets a lot of words. Sophie took in a cassette player for him. Since then he has been moved to the West Norwich Hospital and according to Sophie is getting a lot of therapeutic help. I am trying to contribute by organising visits, but not with a great deal of success.
After leaving the hospital I called in on Margaret Comerford, who had some money for the church from her meditation group. We sat in her tiny garden in King Street surrounded by bees.
On Thursday Phil drove me to Coventry, and we took Andrew out for lunch. He is vastly improved. He suggested the Post House at Allesley, but on the way there we saw a Harvester and ate there. A very good meal: I like the Harvester system. Afterwards we drove to Corley (where else?) and then to Memorial Park before returning Andrew to Minster Lodge. The journey both ways was pretty straightforward, but of course tiring. I now have to contact the council again to sort out his money, which will reach a critical level again within a couple of months or less.
While I was in Coventry the car went in for a new condenser, and Dot collected it after spending a few hours sorting out papers and photographs with Angela at A Ethel’s place in Hethersett. Meanwhile Amanda has died suddenly, after suffering pancreatitis and a chest infection. Her funeral has been fixed for this Thursday, unfortunately, when we are tied up taking Anna to Houghton Hall for the St Petersburg exhibition. We have sent flowers, and Angela is representing us.
Friday was a bit different, not least in that it rained quite a bit, but mainly in that I spent most of it filming in the city with Peter Stibbons for the Paston DVD. We started in the Briton’s Arms and took in most of the Paston sites. It was quite strange standing in the street speaking to a camera that was not always totally adjacent. Sadly, no-one asked for my autograph, but a group of lads on the Julian Bridge did want to know which channel we would be on. We had lunch at home and ended with a cup of tea there. A fascinating experience. The filming, not the tea.
In the evening we were on the move again, up to Loch Fyne for my birthday meal with the Robinsons, only a month or so late. Again excellent food and friendly service, but very slow. With four of us, it didn’t matter much. Had some excellent halibut. Late birthday gifts of prosecco and chocolate: perfect.
On the road again on Saturday, starting fairly early for a trip to Mottingham, where the Hendersons were putting on an engagement party for Jozef and Chessie. All very agreeable: had some interesting conversations with people from Norfolk and with Maryta’s sister and niece, as well as with Paul and Maryta themselves. Got cut off in the middle of a promising conversation with former head Chris Brown, but ended up talking in depth with Chessie’s mother, from New York State, and her friend Béatrice from Avignon. Click here if you read French. Then we raced the rain back to Norfolk, and won.
Since then I’ve been trying to catch up with e-mails and paperwork. Before the flights fiasco I was spending most of my time sorting out church finances, and I paid some cheques into the bank yesterday. The weather continues warm, which enabled me to slot in a bit of bush-trimming in the front garden, so that the brown bin was suitably charged, ready for emptying today. Yesterday this account was hacked by some Bangladeshis, but fortunately David was able to save the day and sort it out.