Lighting in the loft

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Spring flowers in the Rosary, pictured on iPhone during my walk yesterday

Rainy and miserable today, with Dot off into North-East Norfolk for a meeting with a friend. Yesterday Allan H was round all day, mostly in the loft, installing lighting so that Dot can spend even longer up there than she does now. Unsurprisingly, it proved a longer job than expected, but it seems to have worked. While clearing up afterwards, Dot produced a suitcase of old paperwork which proved to be mainly her letters to me before we married, plus some rather bad short stories and poems I wrote in the same era, and a few photographs. Also my mother’s handbag and some letters she’d written to me. No doubt I will be leafing through it all some time in the near future.

While this was going on I walked up to the Rosary on the way to the supermarket (trying to get some exercise) and became rather melancholy for no apparent reason. Envisaged David and Oliver coming to see my grave and Amy asking Dot: “Why did Grandad die?” I do tend to be a bit morbid nowadays. Snapped out of it fairly quickly on reaching the supermarket, which was overrun by half-term families. Dearth of rice, for some reason, but managed to get some for Tuesday Group meal, which featured Matt on curry. Dot had to run the gauntlet of football traffic to fetch him, but I devised a cunning route for her that worked a treat. Didn’t work quite so well when I took him home afterwards, but you can’t have everything. Even Norwich City managed to thrown away a win, and Spurs went one worse by losing 3-1 to Blackpool. Meanwhile in New Zealand a huge earthquake devastated Christchurch: Louise Robinson came round in the afternoon (when I was out, annoyingly) to reassure us that her parents were not involved, but in fact Anne had texted us in the night with just that message. Christchurch is part of their itinerary, but at the moment they are in Auckland. Very thoughtful of Louise to realise we might be worried.

Last Saturday was probably my most energetic day  for years. We spent most of it painting a couple of walls in the living room – a process that also included going to the shop for extra paint; touching up two coats all round the room where the skirting heating had been; glossing the skirting board; moving three bookcases to different levels; hoovering the entire house; and, mysteriously, sorting out my tools drawer and stumbling across 28 screwdrivers. Quite enough for one day, you might think. But in the evening we had the Greenacres round for a meal: Sheila is a teacher I’ve worked with a number of times over the years and her husband David, who we’d never met, is an ex-police officer.  Dot and Sheila had never met either. As Dot had done most of the painting, I cooked the main meal and purchased most of the starter from the supermarket. Something must have gone right, because we had a really good time.

Other things going right: I managed to draw a difficult chess game against Yarmouth on Monday. I played a German dentist who had no local grade but seemed pretty strong to me. Was pleased to hold a tricky bishop-and-pawns ending. Sadly, our captain lost a won game and we are now probably heading for the dreaded drop. Felt for him, as he is very keen and an excellent captain, as well as being a nice bloke. And on Sunday at close to 11am we were staring at a congregation of about five for Communion, but we ended up with around 20. Don’t know why that happens. Scarily, David Coomes is threatening to come to our service on April 10 when they are visiting and I’m leading.

Blunder after the sandwich break

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Amy with picnic in the living room

Very little time in the past week to do anything very constructive in the way of writing. Not sure why that should be, since Dot was away for a day and a half at Dudley, doing her P4C thing. I did manage to write a poem, just in time to make the deadline for entry to the Norwich Writers’ Circle competition, which I won last year. In fact I entered seven poems and walked them up to the secretary’s house the other side of Colman Road to make sure they got there in time. It was also an excuse for a decent walk, and happily the weather was sunny, though cold. Managed a similar-length walk (just under four miles) the next day – Tuesday – after I dropped the car off for £500 worth of work (service, brakes, bodywork, MOT, European Assistance).

The following day Dot and I had a lie-in, watching a tape that Phil had lent me some time ago. During this I began to feel pretty ill, with a bad headache and sore eye, plus tiredness. Strange. Took several doses of paracetamol, which meant I had recovered sufficiently to drive to Diss in the evening for a chess match. Got a good position but blundered and lost following the sandwich break. Together with my draw on Monday, this brought to an end my unlikely run of five wins. Sad, but not as sad as the death of Phyllis Todd, the oldest member of our congregation, who was 100. Glad I saw her last week.

Oliver entirely without picnic in the living room

Happier times earlier in the past week, when David and the children came up to see us on Saturday and stayed overnight. The children came to church with us, and Oliver sat next to me and took it all in – or as much of it as he could. Not a tremendously child-friendly sermon, and he was the only child there, apart from Amy, who was upstairs with Dot. Afterwards we went to Prezzos for lunch. And the previous day we had a visit from Glenda and Peter, with whom we shared the train holiday in Switzerland two years ago. Lovely to see them again. Apparently not one of the four of us had changed a bit.

Later that day I went to a Paston trustees’ meeting at which it was decided – with some prompting from me and Jonathan – to demand an answer from the PCC and Trunch team about our potential lease of the church. They have spent huge amounts of time contradicting each other and dithering. We are now threatening to withdraw, which we hope will concentrate their minds.

Yesterday Dot and I went to the Assembly House for afternoon tea – a Christmas present bought for us by the Archers. Lovely food in a nice setting, though the service was a little slow and there was a great deal of rearranging the room while we were eating. Still, we really enjoyed it. I had previously visited our financial advisers to sign papers for a surrender of a policy which I thought I’d already surrendered, which means we will receive some unexpected money. Not a huge amount, but worth having.

Today we bought some paint and have spent time painting one of the walls in preparation for the new bookcase. Hope to finish tomorrow – in fact will have to, because I’ve just remembered we’re having people round for a meal tomorrow evening, a fact that had somehow got omitted from my diary, otherwise we probably wouldn’t have started on the painting. Ho hum. Wish I felt a bit more lively.

Someone in line for big fat bonus

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Dot, Julia and Dave taking a quiet moment by the canal: another picture from our weekend walk

Euro-cheque epic continues. Secretary at St Augustine’s Primary School rang to ask if I was Vicky Myers (no) and to say that they had been mysteriously sent a letter from Lloyds Bank concerning said cheque. The letter should have gone to Vicky, who is still nominally church treasurer and who admittedly does live in Costessey. Still… Whoever is organising the cashing of euro cheques should clearly get a big fat bonus. As for us, we have a new kettle. I was pleased to find how little it cost, but I suppose there’s not much to kettles really. This one is really basic, but it works.

I have at last written a poem, having been “dry” all through January. I think it’s quite good, but it required a lot of editing. I shall probably enter it for the Norwich Writers’ Circle competition, which I won last year. I know what they say about lightning, but it’s worth a shot.

Have been doing a lot of walking this week and have been lucky with the weather. Mileage has been roughly 2, 4, 4, 4, 2, but I’m not sure about today’s. I suspect the GPS malfunctioned for some reason: it suggested 3.5 miles, which can’t be right. Perhaps the fault occurred because I had Communion with Phyllis Todd (aged 100) at Doughty’s Hospital in the middle of it and forgot to turn it off. Nicholas was there (you can’t have Communion without a vicar, for some reason). Phyllis did not seem at all well, though apparently she was better than yesterday. Weather not so good today: light rain. But on Tuesday Dot and I walked a couple of miles in bright sunshine near Whitlingham Broad (after I’d walked a couple of miles to get there, having been dropped on the Lowestoft road while Dot made an abortive visit to Thurton School).

Last night we took Phil and Joy to a healing meeting led by Roy Todd at Open on Bank Plain and at the last moment decided to stay on instead of dropping them off. In fact, I brought the car home and walked back. Very loud and enthusiastic meeting, reflecting the sort of thing we used to go to back in the 1980s. Unless everyone was lying, which they weren’t, quite a large number of people were healed, including Joy, who lost the severe pain in her legs. I never feel at ease in this kind of meeting, but I don’t doubt its authenticity.

Went to the dentist yesterday and discovered I needed some filling repairs, which will cost a bit. Still, there is definitely something wrong, and it would be nice if there weren’t. Meanwhile my cousin’s son Bruce is becoming active on the Internet. I see he has become friends with Vicki Ellis, which is a pretty remote connection (father’s cousin’s wife’s cousin’s daughter). Where will it all lead?

Chopping up vegetables

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Julia and Dot tackle a steep section towards the end of last Saturday's walk in Lyme Park

All is well again. Van man with fan turned up again and fixed the boiler, which is now running smoothly, and I think whatever was wrong with me has probably gone away. It’s also a beautiful sunny winter’s day, and I intend to go out for a walk this afternoon in an attempt to get some weight off. Did a couple of miles on Sunday and nearly four yesterday. Admittedly, the kettle is broken, but you can’t have everything.

Had a really good lunch at the Ship Inn, Mundesley, on Saturday to celebrate Jo Berry’s birthday. She didn’t say which one, and it would be rude to guess. There were about 40 people there, including Jonathan and Lucy; Rob Knee and his wife Penny; and unexpectedly Richard Batson, chief reporter at Cromer, and his wife Angie. Excellent food, and some good conversation, but the weather was pretty dull: grey and spattering with cold rain, carried on an enthusiastic wind. Turns out Jo is local correspondent for the EDP/North Norfolk News. Her husband John is a steam train enthusiast.

Spent much of the previous day chopping up vegetables: Dot was providing the soup for church lunch on Sunday – it could have been easy, but she likes to choose interesting recipes, and an alternative. I have to say the result was excellent, despite a minor panic on the day, when the soup refused to warm up as quickly as one might have liked. One being Dot, in this case.

Won another chess game last night, making five in a row. This one was particularly lucky, as my opponent, Steve Crane, overlooked a very promising sequence that I had calculated the wrong way round. He then went on to lose on time, as usual. If there were no time limit, his playing strength would soar. Earlier I took some cheques to pay in, in my new role as church treasurer-elect: these included a €55 one from Ireland, which called forth a staggering amount of paperwork and a £5 fee. You might think that in this day and age there might be a smoother system for coping with euros.

Look East last night poured all their immense resources (very little) into covering the English Defence League march in Luton, which managed to shut the town down without doing anything much at all. To be more accurate, the police shut the town down. Newsman Stewart meanwhile did the usual appalling job of interviewing the EDL leader, generating about ten times as much heat as light and refusing to let him answer any questions without interruption. I’m sure this generates more sympathy for extreme groups than exposing them by letting them speak. I ended up wanting to kick Stewart, which poses some interesting questions about what exactly provokes violence.

Cold, cold, cold – and that’s just indoors

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Dot surveys a spectacular icefall in the Goyt Valley last weekend

Beginning to get a true appreciation of what it is like to feel cold. Our central heating has now been off for 48 hours, and as the fault is in the boiler, we have no hot water either. The engineer came at lunchtime yesterday and diagnosed a broken fan, but needless to say he did not “have one on the van” (man, van, no fan), so said he would return at 3.30pm today – about 15 minutes ago, in fact. No sign as yet, and no comforting phone call to say he’s on the way. We have had an open fire going in the lounge and, since this morning, a fan heater in my study, but nothing can disguise the fact that the house is, on average, very, very cold. I have five layers on, and Dot has gone to the shops. I would quite like to go out for a walk, because it’s a beautiful day (though cold), but I have to wait for the British Gas man with van and fan.

Yesterday, after the engineer’s visit, we went to the cinema to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1, which was pretty good actually, and the cinema was warm. Not the sort of film I would want my grandchildren to see. They would be totally terrified, but I was only mildly frightened. Besides, it was warm. We locked ourselves in the lounge for the rest of the evening and watched TV. I know doing something physical would have made more sense, but somehow being cold puts you off doing anything constructive. I suppose it’s like wanting to lie down when you have hypothermia, though we have not quite reached that stage yet.

The heating failed before the Tuesday Group came round, but happily the house had not lost much heat by that time, and we were relatively comfortable. Just as well, because the group included George Myers, aged about six weeks, who had some unusual theological and prophetic insights but is a bit sensitive on environmental issues.

One good thing: I am now feeling quite a lot better and am hoping that whatever it was has gone away permanently, rather than slipped off for reinforcements. Dot still has some back pain and visiting the chiropractor twice a week. On Monday I managed another win at chess after trying an unusual gambit – knocking my opponent’s drink over while he was out of the room, and having to clear up the broken glass while he tried to concentrate on the game. Fortunately he is a nice bloke, and I stopped his clock for a while, so he wasn’t abusive when I won.

Superb walk at Lyme Park

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Julia, Dot and Dave on a bridge over the Macclesfield Canal, coming towards the end of our walk. We are headed for the ridge top right.

The best kind of wintry day: cold, but with sunshine and a certain stillness in the air. The weekend was much the same, and our longish walk at Lyme Park on Saturday was superb. We covered just under five miles, with a fair bit of ascent, and happily Dot and I were relatively untroubled by our recent ailments. I felt pretty well throughout. She had a slight ache in her back, but had no problem completing the walk, which left the car park at Lyme Park (which is in Cheshire and was used by the BBC in the filming of Pride and Prejudice) before heading over a low ridge and down to the Macclesfield Canal. We walked along the canal for about a mile and half and spent some time watching geese skating on the ice and eventually plunging through it. Then we headed back up over the hill to our start point.

We were actually staying in Derbyshire – at the Lee Wood Hotel in Buxton – with Dave and Julia Evetts. Unfortunately the excellent food there negated the slimming work achieved by the walk, and at the end of the weekend I found my weight had worsened rather than improved. So this morning I did another couple of miles. I am really too heavy now and am determined to take off about half a stone. Dot is quite keen to assist me in this.

Didn’t feel 100 per cent in Derbyshire and had to go to bed earlyish both nights, but we still had a very good time. However an ambulance was called for someone else and I think it must have hit our car, because there is a dent in the back wing. Rather irritating.

On the way north on Friday we called in at Coventry with Andrew’s new TV/DVD combi, which I managed to set up in his room after walking to the shops with Andrew to purchase an aerial lead. Bitterly cold, and at that point quite windy. The set-up was very easy, and Andrew seemed to get the hang of it. The Langleys staff, who seem to be taking a closer interest in Andrew than the previous owners did, have said they’ll make sure he can operate it. They also took him into the city so that he could buy some clothes last week.

Before Coventry we had called in on A Ethel to give her her birthday present and stayed for a while. She seems very frail, but looked better than she had a couple of weeks ago. Rosemary is out of hospital and recovering from pancreatitis.

Clear drive back from Derbyshire via Chesterfield and the M1 on Sunday. Stopped at Cambridge Services for a snack, and both felt very tired. Nevertheless I took Rupert to Lowestoft in the evening for another poetry reading event at the Seagull Theatre, while Dot relaxed at home in readiness for an early school visit today. The reading went quite well, though it was a mixed bag as usual. Host Ian Fosten in good form, except when he omitted me from part two by mistake, and I had to point it out to get my second three poems in. Quite a good reception: did a couple of light-hearted ones (Directions and At the Chemist’s) which provoked some laughter. Also did Careless Rain, Mother of a Year Six Boy, Denver Sluice and In Love with the Second Cello.

Sweet birthday candle for Jessie

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Jessie with her becandled birthday meringue

Feeling pretty tired: not sure if this is a combination of a continued infection (if that’s what it is) and the stronger antibiotics that the doctor gave me or just the result of a packed few days. Because of the tiredness it’s hard to tell if I’m actually feeling better, but I think I am: I don’t have the nauseous feeling any more, and the strange headiness is much diminished, but the heaviness in my abdomen is no better. The doctor wants me to get this looked at by insertion of what he calls a telescope into my nether regions. The letter for me to book an appointment has arrived, but when I tried to book, neither Norwich nor Cromer had any appointments available. I am resisting the massively uncompelling lure of Gorleston and Bury St Edmunds.

Dot meanwhile still has a back problem: she is under the chiropractor and feeling a bit better, but nervous of doing any stretching at all. Walking is a bit painful after a while. Meanwhile my brother Phil tells me that he and Joy are both suffering severe leg pains. Nevertheless he came with me this afternoon to John Lewis (before he told me about his legs) to buy a television/DVD player for Andrew. A quick operation: I had gone home for the car and returned to pick it up within half an hour. Just hope Andrew will be able to use it. I’m dropping it off on the way to Derbyshire on Friday.

Yesterday I had a bit of déjà vu at Wicklewood, where I had been invited to talk about journalism for a modest fee. Year 6 class and teacher proved very amenable once I had managed to find the way into the school, and it all came back to me. Seemed to go well: I enjoyed it anyway. Afterwards I met Dot at Park Farm for lunch. In the evening I played Steve Crane at chess and won on time after seeing a winning combination earlier and wrongly dismissing it. Made hard work of the whole thing.

I made my first tentative stabs at being church treasurer last Thursday, when I called round Vicky’s for an explanation of how it worked. Seemed reasonably straightforward (hah!), but she is hanging on to the accounts until she finishes them off for last year and reconciles a discrepancy on the statement.

The next day we went to the Banningham Crown for a birthday lunch with Jessie. Also present: Roger, Jude and Philip; Janet and Ray and their daughter Judy and her husband Don. Meal and service were first-class; they even lit a birthday candle for Jessie and stuck it in her sweet. Went back to Jessie’s for tea and coffee and suddenly realised it was 5.45pm, and we were supposed to be helping to set up St Luke’s for Robert Beckford at 6.30pm. Well, we were a bit late, but there were plenty of helpers. RB is a theologian who makes documentaries for Channel 4, and he was very challenging on “picking a fight” with people who were persecuting the poor. He highlighted the USA’s exploitation of Ghana by dumping subsidised rice there and ruining the local farmers, with appalling results (teenage girls leaving the villages and working in town brothels). Hard to understand how people can do this and still sleep at night.

Dot has just returned from visiting another school (Wreningham) and the odd shop on the way back. She heard a story on the radio about headlines, which included one about a road crash on the Azores, where there were only two roads and only one crossroads on the island. Azores a first time. Olé.

High quality exhibition

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Flooding on Carey's Meadow at the bottom of Harvey Lane, where I went for a walk a couple of days ago

I’ve been feeling a bit rough this past week, off and on. Not sure if it’s the antibiotics or an infection. Yesterday was bad; today is a bit better. I’m seeing the doctor this afternoon on what I believe is known as an unrelated matter – results of recent blood test – so I will mention it to him. Meanwhile Dot’s back is not much better, and she is seeing the chiropractor tomorrow. We’re going to Derbyshire the weekend after next, and it would be nice if she was fit enough to walk in the hills. It would be nice if I was too.

On Sunday after church we went to a big exhibition by Martin Laurance at Mandell’s Gallery in Elm Hill. As expected, very high quality, but nothing actually screamed “Buy me” at us. Even if it had, we probably wouldn’t have been able to afford it. Many of the usual crowd were there: Annette, Mike, Teri, Caroline, Hilary Mellon among others. Had a quick chat with Martin too. Very pleasant hour: we parked in the Monastery car park, which I think was full of exhibition-goers’ cars. It’s normally empty on a Sunday. We only drove there because we had to go somewhere else first (he hastened to add).

Yesterday Dot had lunch with Anne and was in the city till late afternoon. Much of the time she spent at the exhibition I went to last week. I meanwhile was stocking up at the supermarket in preparation for a large Tuesday Group: 12, if you count month-old George. Just about capacity, I think. We started watching The Nativity, but TM only managed about three minutes, saying it was too Anglicised. Not sure what that meant. He started trying to explain afterwards, but his argument was rather weakened by his only having seen about three minutes of it.

Today Barbara is here, working with Dot on their Philosophy4Children days at Dudley next month. I spoke to Maryta on the phone and discovered she had to cancel her holiday because of her back, which is still far from good. She finds any kind of travel by car difficult; needless to say, she’s still going in to work, mainly by rail. At least there’s no snow to stop her: it’s turned colder again, but blue sky the last couple of days.

OK, I’ve been to the doctor now, and he was ecstatic about my blood. I don’t think  he’s a vampire: it was more that the PSA level was about as low as it can be, which is very good news. He also gave me some stronger antibiotics for the urinary tract infection, and I’ve going to have a something-oscopy to see if my bowel is OK – mainly because I still have this tight, heavy feeling in my lower abdomen. We both think it’s scar tissue, but he wants to be sure. Sorry if that’s too much information.

We’ve just heard that Rosemary has gone into hospital for tests after having severe vomiting. OK, enough information.

I’ve just read Natural Mechanical, by J O Morgan, which I got for Christmas. It’s an extended poem about a lad from Skye who is a kind of naive genius at living off nature, but also brilliant with anything mechanical. Beautifully written, with elements of Dylan Thomas but also very distinctively different. I heard the author read at Aldeburgh and was much taken by it: the book sold out at the festival shop almost immediately, so others must have been taken by it too. Some lovely touches.

Startling red

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Dramatic sky over Thorpe Road offices

Feeling woozy and a bit achy this morning, but I don’t think it’s flu: I think it’s the antibiotics I’m on for a UT infection. I’m about to have my hair cut, so monitoring the effects of that should be interesting. Our hairdresser Linda, normally blonde, has arrived with startling red hair, so I shall have to keep my eye on her. The weather has turned much milder, but there’s been a fair bit of rain, with the usual flooding in the Tas valley.

The recycling stuff hasn’t been collected since before Christmas, so yesterday Dot and I went to the tip and were strangely exhilarated by getting rid of a carload. Later, and coincidentally, a council guy came round and explained the new system; happily, he also noticed the mounds of uncollected rubbish in the street and made inquiries. He was told it had been collected, which must be one of the least convincing lies ever told.

The week began, as I mentioned last time, with Dot and Barbara doing a philosophy session at Dulwich College prep school: very good result – both of them extremely impressed with the school and hoping for a return match. In the evening I got a good result myself, winning quite a good game against a player ranked higher than me. It was in fact the return match of our club A and B teams, and the B team won 2½-1½. (Burrows ½, Moore 1, Tuffin 0, Lenton 1)

Apart from my annoying UT infection, Dot managed to injure her back and was incapacitated for a couple of days. She’s still pretty stiff. Both feeling our age for a while, but no doubt it will pass, though of course there will come a time when it doesn’t. Meanwhile I’ve been landed with the job of DCC treasurer, at least on a temporary basis, and am going for a clarification session with our current treasurer, Vicky, next week. Vicky has recently given birth to George, who isn’t quite ready to take the job over yet.

As I was in the city a couple of days ago and feeling rather below par I decided to go and see the Art of Faith exhibition at the Castle Museum. It occurred to me that if I was getting flu (for example) it would be closed before I recovered. Dot obviously wants to see it too, but she was happy that I went. Sometimes you miss things simply because you can’t co-ordinate as a couple. Still, we did get together to go to the cinema last night for The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the latest Narnia film, in 3D. Pretty spectacular and nicely done, I thought, justifying its good reviews. The exhibition was also good, though I don’t get as blown away as some people by artefacts and the guesses as to their functions. Some nice artwork, though, and interesting links to the Paston period, including Oxburgh Hall. I did enjoy the exhibition film Something Understood, which cut the practising of different faiths with shots of the Norfolk countryside; and a stunning painting by a Baha’i artist.

On leaving, and after buying the catalogue book for Dot, I was accosted by a woman doing market research about my museum experience and was reminded how useless such research is (How many times have you been to a museum in the last year? I have no idea; let’s say four.) The woman was interesting, though: on  hearing I was a writer, she revealed that she’s written a book called I’m a Street Girl Now which, in case you were wondering, is about her market research experiences. Not often you come across a marker research person with a sense of humour.

I’ve just finished Freedom, by Jonathan Franzen – a quite long American novel given to me (together with four others) by David Coomes. I quite enjoyed it: it was witty and you got involved with the characters, though you never really liked any of them. At least, I didn’t. It did have some striking things to say – by implication– on the nature of freedom, though you did wonder if it would all have worked out so nicely if one of the main characters hadn’t been killed in a road accident.

OK, I’ve had my haircut now and am reminded of some lines from once-Poet Laureate Alfred Austin on the medical condition of the King at the time: Across the wires the electric message came / He is no better, he is much the same.

Philosophical encounter

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Temperatures are up a bit, but it’s turning windy and, after today, wet, we are told. Yesterday I went for a 3.5-mile walk round the outskirts of the city centre, as it were. Felt very cold and rather unwell at first, but things improved. Dot had just left for South London for her philosophical encounter with Dulwich College Prep School. She picked up Barbara on the way and then drove to the Hendersons’, where they stayed the night, before arising at some unearthly hour to drive to the prep school. Although this is only seven or eight miles, it took them an hour,  mainly along the South Circular. Rumour has it that the session went well, but they are not back yet. Afterwards they had something to eat and then spoke to the head of the junior section of Eltham College, with a view to philosophical activity there in the future.

Ironically, in view of her picture two posts back, Maryta is now in quite bad pain after a fall from a horse – so bad in fact that she is considering cancelling her horse-riding holiday. To anyone who knows Maryta, that means it must be very bad indeed, but not of course bad enough to stop her going into work. That requires death, or at least unconsciousness.

Things have been quiet here, especially after I tidied the house up. Earlier this afternoon I went to the supermarket in the MX5 and deposited some recyclable stuff that the council persistently declines to collect. This morning I went to the Post Office and submitted applications for our new passports. We both look miserable, of course. This is partly because you mustn’t smile in a passport photo, but also because we’re never quite sure the machine is working properly.