The house has been pretty much in chaos for four days, and it will continue well into next week. Yes, we have a painter in. His name is Barry, and he is a very pleasant guy, but he starts at 7.30am. He also has a friend who lives in Georgia and with whom he carries on long conversations on Facetime. He carries on working while he does it, so I’m not complaining. Barry has tea with two sugars, of course. 

We are having the entire kitchen done, a couple of additional ceilings, the stairwell, all the doors and the skirting boards. In addition Dot has just decided we are having blinds in the kitchen. Well, why not?

Outside, life goes on. It’s been raining this morning, but mostly over the last week it’s been dry – though on Tuesday night when walking to Eleanor’s for cake and compline we found ourselves under the only cloud in the country. It spotted a bit when we left, but David Archer gave us a lift home. Apart from us (and Eleanor), he was the only one there: Bridget was detained in Cambridge with her mother, Judy was ill, Vicky was looking after Amy and Claire was probably at work, though we’re not sure. We got through quite a bit of cake.

Earlier in the day I had a Butterfly Cafe meeting with Phil Gazley, who is currently working at St Luke’s but for YWAM, and as far as I can gather is trying to get a number of things organised. As these largely involve training and volunteering, they do not appeal to me at first glance, but I have agreed to look through a document that he wants me to anglicise. It stems from Birmingham, Alabama.

Going back to last Saturday, we ended the day with a farewell event for Sonia, head at Little Plumstead, which took place in Thorpe St Andrew. Dot put the street in the satnav, and we ended up lost and had to go home to look at the map that had been sent. When I looked at it, I recognised where it was immediately. Why didn’t I look first? Anyway, we were in time not to spoil the surprise for Sonia and had quite a nice evening. The staff had practised a nice dance/music number (Chain Reaction) which was surprisingly good, but I knew almost no-one; so the event as a whole was a little tricky. One guy knew me, but I’m still struggling to remember exactly where from. It was probably many, many years ago.

The next day Phil led the service with his injured chin, but Judy was ill. Dot did a cake for my birthday, which was eaten up rapidly. Last run the day the Seagull achieved one of the scheduling masterstrokes of the century by holding a poetry evening at the same time as two amazing sporting events. We missed the men’s Wimbledon final entirely, and only got the Cricketing World Cup final on radio, with Dot listening to the last bit outside the theatre just before the poetry started.

We saw the cricket highlights later, and it was all a bit odd. Unusually, I thought the England players did well (especially Ben Stokes, for whom I have a new respect), but felt New Zealand were robbed, partly by astonishing bad luck, and partly by bad umpiring. So I didn’t feel at all euphoric. Perhaps if I’d been there…

The Paston project is on the brink of falling apart. Rob, Peter, Karen and I had a meeting at the Maid’s Head on Monday, and it was clear that Rob was completely disillusioned by Matt, Rebecca and the UEA generally. He would like to drop it all, and so would I, were it not for the fact that Peter has been doing some tremendous work in the digital, 3D and database areas (see “Paston Places” at thisispaston.co.uk). Karen is trying to rescue it all, and Blofield is going well…