Yet again, it’s wet. This time it’s very, very wet. And cold, and windy. I am looking for a slightly less wet moment to pop over to the station and buy tickets to Nottingham, where we’re heading tomorrow.
Well, that didn’t work. Got to the station, but got wet as well. Dark grey sky. Horrible. Greyness slightly alleviated by woman in ticket office called Kristine, who had diamonds on her eyelashes. On the minus side, she got the ticket date wrong and had to put it through again.
Yesterday was slightly less grey, especially when we got away from Norwich and nearer to London, where we were visiting the Coomes. We had been to church first: Dot had cooked a birthday cake for Phyllis, who claims she is 89, and bought some flowers for Christine, who is retiring as coffee-person after 28 years. The journey to and from London was quite straightforward, and Kristine had her hair back, though the texture had changed following chemotherapy. She looked good as ever, though. David, sadly, was noticeably weaker and a bit more difficult to understand. Still, his sense of humour has not deserted him.
On Saturday we had more rain, which dissuaded us from going to the theatre in the evening as we had intended. Dot had been to Carrow Road to see the last home match of the season and Wes Hoolihan’s last after ten years. Fittingly he was captain and scored, albeit via a big deflection, and City beat Leeds 2-1. Dot stayed behind for the celebrations, and I cooked the Hello Fresh! meal.
On Friday it was raining as Anne and Dot departed for the city, and continued to rain when they got back and Dot departed for her massage while I went to Mundesley to pick up Roger’s framed picture. It was raining there too.
On Thursday, happily, it was not raining as I went to Brundall and did a three-mile walk in the company of David Pilch, who I was in the same class with at school and who is also the husband of the Blofield hub co-ordinator for the Paston Footprints project. I was pretty exhausted by the end of it (he walks pretty fast), but I was given a cup of tea in the church by his wife Barbara, and we had a useful talk about prospects for Blofield in 2019.
In the evening we were at Mundesley Manor Hotel for the PHS annual meeting, which we managed to get through without discussing the fact that Lucy had resigned, and the resulting problems with the re-enactors. This rumbles on, and today e-mails were flying backwards and forwards. I’m hoping that by the time I get back from Nottingham, something will have been sorted out.
Back in the distant past, last Wednesday, we had the HIgbees for lunch, which was very pleasant as always. If I remember rightly, it wasn’t raining.