How quickly things change. A few days ago I was bemoaning the lack of heat, and the failure of the sun to put in an appearance. Today it is undeniably hot, with a clear blue sky.
Yesterday, I’m happy to say, it was slightly less hot, and my train journey to Coventry was quite pleasant. Once there, I took Andrew to Memorial Park, had an ice cream (me; piece of cake, him) and walked back to Minster Lodge. Not too far, but it exhausted Andrew, and I was quite tired too. Other than that he seemed quite well, apart from his usual failure to place things correctly in time and space.
I picked up Andrew’s Christmas presents for us (a little late) and was a bit worried about their weight, but in fact they weren’t too cumbersome on the journey home, which was awkward in other ways. First, I had to wait about an hour at Coventry station because the ticket lady had booked me onto a specific train, which turned out to be 12 minutes late. This introduced a worry about catching the connection to Norwich, which rapidly accelerated (the worry, not the train) when I reached the platform at Euston Square underground and heard conflicting announcements about the length of delays for trains on that line. Eventually the loudspeaker said there would be no more trains because of a signal failure, but at precisely that point the board said there was one arriving in two minutes. My faith in inanimate objects was rewarded when it duly turned up and took me to Liverpool Street.
I was still on the brink when I rushed on to the station concourse and saw that the Norwich train had been cancelled. However, a replacement had miraculously been scheduled for five minutes later, and I hurtled on to this, only to find my allotted seat was occupied and to be told by the rather surly woman occupying it that all reservations were void. Thank you, Greater Anglia. Happily, an adjacent seat was vacant and amazingly, the train made good time to Norwich.
Point of interest for first-class rail travellers. On Greater Anglia you get free tea and coffee, plus free biscuits or crisps, if you go to the buffet car with your ticket. On Virgin, you are no sooner seated than you are offered tea, coffee and all kinds of alcoholic beverages at your seat, plus sandwiches or onion bhajis and a myriad other snacks – all free. Just in case you should be wondering about whether to travel to Coventry or Norwich.
This morning Dot and I went to see Lucy, who is upset at certain things happening within and to the Paston Heritage Society that I am not yet at liberty to divulge. Our discussion was quite revealing, and I found myself in sympathy with much of what she said. Her new house is still choc-a-block, and while we were there she took delivery of a heavy cabinet and something else weighty. Two men also came uproot her tree stumps. Naomi was also there.
Earlier in the week I managed to clean my parents’ grave with some magic spray I got online. We also had the house alarm serviced by a nice young lad who admired our garage floor.
On Tuesday I went to Jurnet’s poetry evening and read three poems. Not particularly inspiring as an evening, but they seemed to like the poems – The Daffodils are Dead, Angel’s Wings and White Hut. Hilary was there, but not Rupert.
Last Sunday was the vicar’s last, and I couldn’t face going to the “joint” service at St Luke’s; so as penance we went and had coffee with the Hendersons. In the afternoon we had our usual good time with Jessie. I was later astonished to discover that some of St Luke’s congregation are coming to us on April 29, because they don’t have anyone to lead their service. Apparently this is because those who would be involved are going to Oldham for David’s installation. Totally gobsmacked.
David arrived back from Canada yesterday, while I was en route to Coventry, and Des and Chris at No 11 arrive back from New Zealand tomorrow, after overnighting somewhere near the airport. All very reassuring.