I drove Dot to the dentist  this morning to have her stitches out. She was intending to go to M&S afterwards to buy some nibbles for the Julian gathering here tonight, but as she hasn’t taken her phone with her, I don’t know whether she has or not. There’s a sentence that wouldn’t have made sense even ten years ago.

She has been in some pain from her teeth all week, but it all seems to have improved quite a bit over the last couple of days, and it didn’t stop her doing much, though she did cancel a couple of schools. She was able to rehearse on Wednesday for her concert and perform in the concert itself on Saturday. This was at the Walter Roy Theatre (former Hewett School), with tiered seats and everything. Very good acoustics. The Sillars Orchestra was performing with the East Norfolk Operatic Society, which specialises in Gilbert and Sullivan. They did some items together and some separately. I sat next to Neville Thrower, and enjoyed the concert very much, especially the G&S items.

I walked to the venue. I can’t remember why. Dot gave me a lift home.

Exercise earlier in the week included more pitch and putt with Paul, this time at Eaton Park last Thursday. Another enjoyable round, though no real improvement on last time, especially the putting. Afterwards Paul gave me an old putter which could be used both right- and left-handed, as I suspect I putt better left-handed. On checking my bag later I discovered I already had one…

On Friday I thought I was hosting a meeting of the Footprints steering group, but I had got the date wrong. Anne came round to see Dot, and they later went out for lunch and into the city for a while. I went to Morrisons.

Yesterday, after preaching in the morning and quoting one of Joy McCall’s poems (all fall down – a tanka sequence) I decided to go and check a walk in the Felbrigg area while Dot went to a chanting workshop with Liz Day at church. I parked at Metton Church and walked up through some fields, one of which was full of corn and another containing some crop that hadn’t been harvested and seemed abandoned. That was where I saw a deer emerge from the crop and run away.

Further up I joined a path I knew which led through Marble Hall Lodge and back on to the Metton road, which I crossed, climbed for a bit and then turned right, downhill back to the village. It seemed a long way but was certainly well under three miles. Metton itself had a very odd, almost derelict feel to it. It’s the village where April Fabb disappeared in the late 60s. Nothing much seems to have happened since.

I got home in time to cook dinner for Dot, returning from the chanting at about 7.20pm. We ate it while catching up with sport on TV. I am about to buy train tickets for Warwick tomorrow, despite being told that the doctor I was down to see won’t be there. I have told Andrew I’m going; so I think i’d better do so.