Norwich City eventually lost 7-0, but we don’t need to dwell on that. After all, Manchester City put five past a Champions League team a few days later.  Just hope we do a bit better against West Ham on Saturday – Dot and I have tickets.

The weather has been a bit mixed, and we’ve reached that stage in the autumn when the ground never seems to get dry. The last two days have been wet and lethargic, but today looks brighter. I hope to go and see Geoff this afternoon, but at the moment I’m waiting for the piano tuner and his football commentary. Dot is on her way to a school at Bradwell after Mary next door came round for a few signatures. She is applying for a new job. Ex-head teachers rank way above ex-journalists and poets on the respectability scale.

Rather disappointingly, I failed to register in the winners’ list at the Seagull poetry competition, but Rob Knee was joint first (and had another commended). He and Penny were at the NRO yesterday for a talk by Anthony Smith on how Fastolf got on in 1450 (I paraphrase).  A dense but interesting 50 minutes, especially after they got the microphone working. I wrote a piece for my website based on it.

Penny’s mother has just died, and I was able to commiserate. This meant, however, that I missed chatting with Judy, who was also there.

Because of the damp weather I drove to the NRO, thus failing at the second fence in my bid to walk to all of the talks. The tanka book is now finished, and I have only to establish some sort of meaningful dialogue with the publisher. However, Joy is in a bad state again. We need to get it published for her.

Still in the middle of “discussions” with UEA over the PHS intern who claims to have done over 80 hours’ work but has produced very little. Mistakes on all sides, I think. He should have been much more closely monitored.

Dropped in at the Forum on Monday to look at a display of Holocaust poetry that featured a translation by Kristine – oddly, from English into German. Adjacent to the small exhibition was a circular table, around which a number of earnest middle-aged academic-looking people were holding a discussion group. Each had a pot of tea. I wrote a poem about it called The Holocaust Discussion Group.

In the evening we had a meal at Prezzo with Angela and Rodney, followed by coffee at home. The meal was courtesy of Auntie Ethel, whose house is now cleared out and all-but forgotten. She herself seems physically well and enjoying the home.

I have now booked the hotel for Florida and the seating for all the flights. But I haven’t managed to persuade Coventry City Council to tell me how much they’re paying towards Andrew’s accommodation. It will be nice when that’s sorted.

On Tuesday we had nine for our regular Group, and we celebrated November 5th with sparklers in the garden afterwards. The piano tuner seems to be getting on well.