Everything is out of kilter, even the Tour de France, which usually starts back in July but has only now, on September 3, reached its sixth stage. We are of course following it on ITV4, not so much because of the exciting action but because the team of commentators are pretty much the best on TV for any sport. And of course there always is some exciting action. I have never been tempted to watch it live, though I could.

We did watch the T20 cricket live last Sunday, because it was a momentous event (apparently) – the first live cricket on the BBC this century. It lasted four hours and wasn’t particularly interesting because the pitch was too “good”, which means there was nothing in it for the bowlers. In my view that’s “bad”, but there you go. We won it because Morgan scored a hatful of runs after wrongly being given not out lbw as soon as he came in. The Grand Prix was even less interesting, but David and Chrissy FaceTimed us, which was much more fun.

Earlier we went to church (St Luke’s again) and I did a sermon on suffering (mainly) which seemed to go down quite well. Afterwards Matt came round to get the combination lock off my bike so that he could see if he could crack it. I don’t think he has. Dot popped round to see Sarah, who broke her wrist while looking round her prospective vicarage at Carlton Colville. I refrained from asking her if she thought God was telling her something (!). She’s having an operation tomorrow but is in quite a bit of pain.

I should mention that the previous day it rained almost incessantly, but we snuck up to the Old Library Wood towards evening and bought a halloumi burger for Dot from some very nice local people in a van. In normal circumstances (regarding my health, I mean) I would have bought a wild boar burger, but I thought it was a bit risky. My £10 note on behalf of Dot was rejected because it was a paper one, which is odd because I’m pretty sure I got it out of a machine. The burger was £5, by the way, and the murals on the wall by the road are very good indeed.

Monday was Bank Holiday – apparently the coldest for many years. No comment. We spent most of the day preparing for the plumber, Robin, who rescheduled our work for this week – a good thing, but it meant Gary the electrician had to postpone his final day because he didn’t want to share the house with a plumber. He has done just about all the work but needs to make some final checks. So we were making the main bedroom available for Robin and moving our stuff from there and the shower room into the guest bedroom and Dot’s study. We also filled the car up with petrol – or at least I did while Dot bought a few things in Morrisons. In the evening I drove Dot and Eleanor to the Oaklands Hotel in Thorpe, where they and other members of our Compline group were having a birthday meal with Claire. Very good, apparently. Dot was dropped off later by the Archers on Rosary Road, and I went to meet her as she came down the path through the wood.

Robin arrived at 8am on Tuesday and started work on the cistern in the bathroom. By the end of the day (or was it the next?) he had it fixed, as well as the one downstairs. They had started to leak water into the pan, and the upstairs one had some broken bits inside. He is now (Thursday) well into the shower room and has relaid the floor. He managed to get away without removing the fitted cupboards, which is good, and he has also taken out the bidet, which will give Dot more room. He seems very thorough. Dot has ordered some flooring from Dovetail, and it will be fitted by them when Robin has finished.

Also on Tuesday I at last got round to visiting my Aunt Thelma in the Cresta Run care home at Poringland. (I have decided to call it that instead of Cresta Lodge because it seems more appropriate.) I had to book an appointment, phone them when I reached the front door, then go and wait by a side door until someone let me through that and took me to a spot outside Thelma’s window, which was ajar. I had to wear a mask through all this, but took it down while speaking to her because otherwise she wouldn’t have heard anything. We had a good conversation for about 45 minutes, and she seemed well, though she is not very mobile. She has an excellent memory. I took her a book and a couple of photographs, but these had to be put in quarantine for 72 hours before she could have them.

Yesterday morning, after watching highlights of another T20 match – this time rather more exciting and won by Pakistan – Dot and I spent some time trying to sort out her diocesan e-mail problem (again). We couldn’t make much progress, and so she rang the IT people. I stood by to see if I could help, but I really wasn’t much use except for the occasional interpretation until they decided that she needed an app. After installing the wrong one we eventually sorted it out, and now it seems to be working fine, as long as she uses the app instead of the system she’d been using up to now.

Late in the afternoon I took Joy’s presents round for her birthday and had a fairly brief chat with her and Phil. She didn’t look too well, to be honest, and is down to seven stone. My friend Joy (McCall) is also not too good, but her husband Andy is even worse (though he has both legs). He has problems with his spine, hips and bowels and has had to leave work. He also can’t act as her carer any more; so they are having people in, with all the additional specialist problems that entails.

I’m still working on the Paston letters and have booked visits to the dentist and ear clinic. For the former I had to update my health form, which was a bit of a challenge. Last night we went to bed early – partly because we had been pretty busy and partly because we’ve been getting up early for Robin.