Football with a French accent

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children
An enthusiastic Amy tries to put a spring in Oliver's steps

At last the weather has turned warmer. Walked three miles back from Joe’s at lunchtime after beating him 3-0 at chess (the first luckily on time, but the other two quite good games), and stepped into John Lewis’s to research TVs for Andrew, adding a diversion to Timberhill to buy Claxton Opera tickets. Very pleasant.  The weather was quite good at the weekend too, which we spent at Caddington to celebrate prematurely David’s 38th birthday – actually today. On the Saturday we were joined by Philip Coomes and family, and had a really good time, rather too much of it spent playing football in the garden, which meant I was exhausted in the evening and went to sleep through Dr Who.

Oliver is developing into a really good little footballer, and Lydia and Alistair aren’t bad either. Meanwhile Amy has developed a French accent, though only while talking to her dolls. The various French numbers feature strongly, but although I didn’t recognise any other words, they sounded as if they ought to be proper French words, even if they weren’t. Taught Oliver a bit of guitar after I managed to get it roughly in tune and Dot finished it off. Oliver is also learning cello, and Vicky came round in the evening to give him a lesson. Amy has a keyboard in her bedroom, so it’s just a question of time… On the Sunday we had lunch at the Harvester nearby: just right for a family, though Oliver was feeling rather poorly, with a cold suddenly developing. Had a decent steak.

On the way home we decided on the spur of the moment to call in to see Joan at Baldock. Against the odds, she was in and had a couple of friends with her. They insisted we stay, so we had a pleasant hour or so there. The female friend had been to Wall Hall College, so she and Dot had something in common, though they weren’t there at the same time. Joan has just had another granddaughter (Harriet’s) and is going up to Leeds to see her today.

Yesterday Dot had to go to Acle school in the morning, but she got back in time to come with me to the lunchtime Norfolk and Norwich Festival concert we’d booked for at the Assembly House. Good value at £7. Superb cellist Jessica Hayes paired with Polish accordionist Rafal Luc. An unlikely team, but I thought it worked well, though Dot was not as convinced. Both agreed that the accordion solo of Mendelssohn’s Organ Sonata No 6 was brilliant, sounding just like an organ: tremendous force and amazing dexterity and feeling. Called in at John Lewis afterwards for tea and looking for an iPod dock, but couldn’t find what we wanted: similarly failed later at the Apple Store.

We’ve been fortunate with our Festival choices: on Friday we went to St Andrew’s Hall for the Moscow State Symphony Orchestra, which was absolutely brilliant, especially during the opening Borodin. The final Shostakovich I found less memorable, though it was technically well-nigh perfect. Violinist Chloe Hanslip was great (except in actual stature) for her performance of Philip Glass’s Violin Concerto No 1, which I thought was brilliant. At the end the orchestra did a couple or encores featuring their livewire redhead drummer Alla Mamyko. The percussionists were fascinating throughout.

Scarves, face paint and flags

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Norwich City players tour the city centre by bus to celebrate the championship

Weather is still chilly, but the forecast is warmer air moving in over the weekend. About time. Still, it’s not bad walking weather – when it doesn’t rain. Yesterday I did about 4 miles, starting through the Rosary, down Ketts Hill and up to St James’ Hill, then walking across the other side of Mousehold to Sprowston Road, then a bit further round the “inner link” before getting a bus to Tombland and walking home. Hard going at first, but easier the further I went.

Later on Dot and I did some additional walking when we went up to Castle Meadow to witness the open-top bus tour by Norwich City players, champions of League One. Got a reasonably good view and some excellent pictures, considering the crowds. Sun was shining brightly: atmosphere enthusiastic in that slightly self-deprecating way that is typical of Norfolk people. Of course there are also the wild enthusiasts, to whom football is a religion. Lot of slightly bemused little children in scarves, wearing face paint and waving flags. Also salesmen selling expensive cheap memorabilia. Helicopter and motorbikes, ambulance and bus: how could it not be fascinating?

Managed to finish editing the book yesterday and have sent off a few queries to the author before letting her have the final version. A strange book, skating over what appear to be serious events and going into great detail about trivia. the subject of the book herself is undoubtedly interesting, though to tell the truth a bit irritating at times. But you have to admire her perseverance and positive attitude to all kinds of problems.

On Wednesday evening we went to the Theatre Royal to hear John McLaughlin and band (the 4th Dimension) as part of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. The technique of the musicians was stunning: some of McLaughlin’s guitar-playing was almost unbelievable, and keyboardist Gary Husband was also exceptional, as were the bass guitar player, Etienne M’Bappe, and drummer Mark Mondesir. Hard to pin down the type of music – sort of progressive and jazzy – but it is the kind that becomes very samey after a while. You are amazed at the virtuosity of the musicians but yearn for a tune or, more particularly, a singer. For the connoisseurs, certainly, and there were times, especially in the first hour, when I was spellbound. But…  We actually left early, not because we we were bored but because Dot had a very early start for a school inspection the next day. The audience was also a bit odd: there was a lot of coming and going to the loo, starting as early as about a quarter of an hour in, and the woman sitting in front of me was exceptionally irritating because she would not sit still. She sat back, then forward, then put something on, then leaned over on to her partner, then went through the whole cycle again. And none of it in time to the music. All in all, a rather unreal evening.

Eccentric in more ways than one

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OK, this is for the chess enthusiasts among you. Right, so that’s just me, then. This is a position I reached in a rapid game (15 minutes each) last night at a club tournament. I was pretty proud of my next move, which was Kh1. Black is pretty tied up, so played Rd8, allowing me to carry on with my plan, which was Ng4. If I hadn’t played Kh1, he could now play Nxg4 check, but now this move, without check, would lose to Qxe7. So he is doomed. He played Rxd4, and after Nxf6 he retreated Kh8. Probably the neatest move now is Nh5! but the clock was ticking fast, and I played Qe5. He played Qd6, and I immediately played what I had planned, namely Ng4+, which wins after Qxe5; Rxf8+, but not as prettily as the alternative to Ng4+, which is Nxe8+, Qxe5; Rxf8 mate. Rapid chess, eh? Who needs time to think? Eventually ended up with 2½ out of 5, which is not bad for me. Boringly predictable, in fact.

Have just edited another couple of chapters of the book, which had more examples of eccentric English, mirroring the eccentric behaviour of the lead character. Really strange. About two-thirds of the way through now. Later today I have to do the meal for the Tuesday Group, because Dot has to go to a church school in South Norfolk as a representative of the Diocesan Office. They are choosing a new head teacher, and Dot is there to advise. I am glad one of us has done really well in their career.

Yesterday went to the dentist for a quick clean round, so of course my teeth are uncomfortable today. They really don’t like being disturbed. Like their owner, I expect. After the dentist, I went for a walk and probably did about three miles altogether. Ought to go out now, but it really is pretty cold and unpleasant, though it seems to have stopped raining. The owner of the end house on our road seems to have moved back in again, following the tenants moving three houses down for reasons that need not detain us. The couple opposite seem to have disappeared, probably temporarily.

Had a pleasant meal on Saturday with the Higbees. It turned out to be an egg curry, because some other friends who are vegetarians were supposed to be joining us, but one of them was ill. Not usually mad about veggie, but this was quite nice, I have to say. Well, eggs are almost meat, aren’t they?

Naked feet on the edge of the bath

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Red ball
Part of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival, this giant red ball will be appearing in various parts of the city. Yesterday it made its debut outside the station.

Got quite a bit of work done on the book yesterday, and also fitted in painting the bathroom ceiling: well, parts of the bathroom ceiling, after Dot revealed that she had in fact painted it last year. So I was just painting over a couple of deteriorating bits, and now it all looks brand new. I was prepared for it to drip all over the place, so painted in old shorts and a T-shirt, with naked feet. Actually naked feet came in useful for standing on the edge of the bath.

The book is a bit odd: parts of it are quite professionally written, but then you come to a paragraph that’s barely English. Ah well; it shouldn’t take too long, though I’m feeling a bit below par today. This may be because I think I have another UT infection, or it may be the really lousy weather (wet and cold) or it may be because I got very little sleep last night after a late meal at Delia’s Restaurant with the Robinsons. The meal was excellent and quite reasonably priced, but late eating doesn’t suit my metabolism, what with the sherry, vodka and wine. Not excessive; oh, no. Just a bit too varied. Had interesting conversation with Philip Robinson about the Election and What Happens Now. If pressed to compare Delia’s with the Swan, the Swan would just get my vote. But Delia’s is good.

Today has not been great so far, especially as Norwich City managed to finish the season in triumph with a pretty pathetic 2-0 defeat – just what you want when they’re going to present you with a trophy. But the Higbees will be joining us for egg curry later. Annette and Mike have cried off with illness, and I tried to contact others to join us, but was unsuccessful. Dot is feeling a bit down after knocking her glass butterfly onto the floor and breaking it. Hope this does not affect the weather thousands of miles away. Perhaps someone has broken a butterfly in China.

Delicious remains

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Blossom in the Rosary

Caroline’s poetry book launch party at Fakenham on Monday turned out to be brilliant, with crowds of people sardined into her terraced house, and just enough room for her and her friend Dee to punctuate the afternoon with songs and poetry. It was a cold, windy day, so inside was a good place to be. At first we knew no-one but Caroline, but later Annette and Mike turned up, plus Martin Laurance and Geoffrey Lefever, another artist from Bally. Also Kay Riggs, one of the Paston poets. Met quite a few new people, and renewed acquaintance with Alex Gilfillan, who used to be a subs’ runner at the Eastern Daily Press about the same time as David. She is also the daughter of Susan Lee (a former sub) and a niece of Caroline. She now has a husband and two young girls. Good to see her again.

Interesting week food-wise. As well as some lovely sweet items at Caroline’s, we have also benefited from the delicious remains of the church Sunday lunch at our Tuesday Group evening, and braved an adventurous paella at a friend’s birthday meal yesterday. The adventure consisted largely in deciding how much of the chicken to eat, as it was clearly undercooked, but there was also the added challenge of sitting down at the table, as the house was beyond description: to use the word cluttered would be an understatement of huge proportions. Six of us managed to get near enough to the table to eat, and the sweet was actually good, but there was not a lot of hanging around afterwards. Dot offered to wash up, but it became clear that there was actually nowhere to put anything. Felt like ordering a skip and depositing the entire contents of the house into it. Make that several skips.

At the other extreme, this morning we called on my aunt Josephine in her immaculate Cringleford bungalow and had some lovely scones and biscuits. Very civilised. Spent a long time talking. Tomorrow we are going to Delia’s Restaurant with the Robinsons to celebrate Anne’s birthday, and on Saturday we are having friends round here. From the sublime to the very ordinary, in a few minutes we are having fish fingers. Earlier we had our hair cut and tomorrow we shall have what to do after firing – no, wait, that’s a poem by Henry Reed. Earlier still Dot and I played a round of pitch and putt on Mousehold and both broke 100. This may not seem much of an achievement, but it is a long time since we played. We were pretty evenly matched. Just before that we went and voted (differently). I changed my mind as I approached the polling station, and still probably got it wrong.

Anyway, the more important selection story of the week was Spurs qualifying for the Champions League by finishing fourth in the Premiership, beating Manchester City 1-0 away to do so. So a good season for both Spurs and Norwich, who seem to mirror each other’s ups and downs surprisingly often. Meanwhile the bank cleared a large cheque just in time for me to pay my credit card bill, which was nice. Getting on well with the book editing, though I didn’t manage to fit any in today. Planning to give it a real go tomorrow.

Roaming in the Rosary

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White among the blue

Have spent some time in the Rosary this weekend. Saturday evening was glorious: thousands of primroses and bluebells (including some white bluebells), plus cherry blossom and in the distance a couple of green woodpeckers. Never realised they were such big birds: very colourful. Explored most of the paths and found Ruth Dix’s recent grave in the old part of the cemetery, next to her parents’. The place was so idyllic on Saturday evening that I phoned Dot to come up, which she did, despite being immersed in sorting out her finances. Yesterday I walked up there again in late afternoon, following lunch at St Augustine’s: another great meal, the remains of which we’ve been donated for the Tuesday Group. This time saw a jay. Much chillier than the day before, and today it is worse again – wet, windy and cold. But it’s bank holiday, so of course everyone will be out and heading for the coast, hoping for a miracle. We will be going to Fakenham this afternoon for the launch of Caroline’s poetry book, Yes. There was an original launch earlier in the year, but the weather was so bad (snow and ice) that few people could make it.

Archbishop, Ruth and Katherine

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Eddie's daughter Jo bubbling along

Sudden late decision to go to Cathedral at 10am to hear the Archbishop of Canterbury and Ruth Padel dialoguing on the subject of poetry and prayer. Turned out to be fascinating, and as we were buying tickets we ran into Katherine Venn, who is doing poetry at the UEA, so we sat together. Some really interesting stuff lasting till 12.30 and including a brief service, featuring poetry, at the end. Also ran into Bill Smith, the EDP photographer, with additional glimpses of Rowan Mantell (EDP writer), the Rev Richard Woodhams, and the Kiddles from St Luke’s. Tea / coffee halfway through in the cloisters, and afterwards Katherine came back to ours for lunch (dropped in at Budgens on the way). Had a long chat with her about various things, including her UEA project. Weather cooler than of late, but not as bad as had been predicted.

Could it be the Mottram walk?

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Eddie
Little Eddie working hard in the garden

Quite a busy week, and warm too – until today, when it’s cooled off a bit. I’ve done a couple of longish walks – the first, 3.2 miles, was to the sorting office, then through the Rosary and Lion Wood, crossing Plumstead Road to Hilary Avenue, then through the alley into Mousehold and back by the usual route, taking in St James’ Hill and finishing along Riverside Road. Could call it the Mottram walk, because it passed Ralph Hale Mottram’s grave in the Rosary, and then his memorial skyline plaque on St James’ Hill. The second – 4 miles – started with a walk into the city to pay in the cheque for selling some of Dot’s shares, and continued down Tombland and past the Puppet Theatre, up Silver Road, along Mousehold Street on to Mousehold Heath (pause for ice cream), then across and into the Heartsease Estate to pick up pills from the chemist. Then along Witard Road and part way down Plumstead Road before I was picked up by Dot in her sports car, hopefully before she reached the area covered by the sociopathic speed camera van. That was yesterday. Feeling pretty tired today, with strange pains in my head. Shurely no connection?

Have managed to free padlock fastening long ladder to side wall. It had rusted in, but copious amounts of WD40 and persistent twisting eventually shifted it – just in time for neighbour to some round and say he didn’t need it yet. Job worth doing, though.

Cousin Eddie and family spent Tuesday afternoon with us. They are staying at Caister on Sea for a week. Grandchild small Edward has just turned three, and though he has lost his fantastic black curly hair (now browner and straighter), he is still delightful. Also present: Chris, her sister Maureen, Edward’s mother Jo (my Facebook friend) and her husband Stuart. Jo has gone from blonde to red: almost didn’t recognise her. Fun afternoon: should have invited them for meal, but didn’t get my head round it quickly enough – partly because we were out in the evening at the parish agm, which included a scrumptious meal prepared by Karen Wimhurt and friends, a certain amount of wine and some entertainment from a Congolese gospel choir. Again, a really enjoyable time.

The following evening we were out again, walking up to the Playhouse to see The Caretaker, by Harold Pinter. Splendidly acted: most rewarding. Met my “agent”, Tony Cooper, who introduced me to a potential stand-up comic who he said I might be able to provide material for. Left him my e-mail address and phone number, but am not convinced the PS-U was on the same wavelength. We’ll see. At least the author whose book I’m editing is happy with what I’ve done; so I will forge ahead with that.

Have just spent a couple of hours playing chess against my nephew Joe, with less than optimal results. Good practice, though. Would now be preparing for weekend trip to London to see the the Coomes, but astonishingly, and in completely unprecedented manner, it has had to be called off. This time very sadly too, as David has to travel north to visit his father, who is in a bad way, having fallen over recently. He has had to go into hospital, and the prognosis is not very good.

Something absolutely delicious

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Canoeist somersaulting
Canoeist tests submarine mode

Typically early visit from the piano tuner on Thursday roused me from my toast, tea and Sudoku. Wandered into sufficient consciousness to discuss Norwich City and other essentials while Dot prepared for DSSO visit to Yarmouth school. Later in the day she went to a governors’ meeting at Gillingham and dropped me on the Kirby Bedon road. I did a bit of exploring round the hinterland of Trowse and eventually found my way down to Whitlingham Broad and then home along the road, with a brief meadow excursion. I would guess about four miles in all, and very pleasant too. Got in some walking every day last week (until the weekend), and after a discussion with long-distance walker Michael, from down the road, went up to John Lewis and bought myself a pedometer that you can wear round your neck. New technology: you had to wear the old ones clipped to your belt, and I broke or lost several of them. I gave this one a brief test immediately, and it seemed pretty accurate. Unfortunately available only in kilometres, but the conversion maths will give my brain some exercise.

During the Thursday walk I took several photographs, and was lucky when I did the final bit along Riverside and found a canoeist doing practice stunts in the Wensum. Got some nice shots.

Drove to the Swan Hotel at Southwold on Saturday for Philip Robinson’s 70th birthday celebration meal. Got stuck in Norwich City championship celebration post-match traffic on the way out of Norwich, but still reached the hotel first, by about half an hour. Too chilly to go for a walk, so had a drink in the bar. Eventually, everyone turned up: Philip and Anne; Anne’s friend Francine; Sophie and husband Rich; Charlotte and fiance Chris; and Louise and boyfriend James. Had quite a long talk with all of them during the evening, which lasted till nearly midnight. Particularly good chat with Charlotte and Chris, who sat opposite us in the restaurant. The food was pretty well perfect. I had pigeon breast followed by beef – both done beautifully, and then poached pears with something absolutely delicious, the exact nature of which I’ve forgotten. It may have been supernatural. Gave Louise and James a lift back: they live on Thorpe Road, opposite the Town House.

Before all that I started work on the book I’m editing and got a couple of chapters done. I’ve fired them off to the author to see if she’s happy, but haven’t heard back yet. Perhaps she isn’t.  Despite our rather thick heads (we didn’t get to bed till about 1.30am) Dot and I enjoyed St Augustine’s yesterday, where I read the Banns for Ed and Jenny – for the second time of asking. Caught up on some TV in the afternoon and decided at the last moment not to go to the Ambient Wonder cafe evening, partly because our neighbours from the end of the road came round to tell us they were moving three doors down, and why. Nothing to do with us. I’m happy to say, but the same problem with the same people that everyone else seems to be having. Oddly, it’s bringing the rest of us together.

Today Dot dropped me off at the Premier Inn near the bypass on her way to Yarmouth. I walked back from there to test new pedometer again. Pretty accurate, but have adjusted step length downward slightly (85 > 80 cm) which works out about right, I think. More walks to follow! Quite warm today, but with some spots of rain.

Inordinate number of suits

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Alligator
Our magic alligator in his prime: he is now out of the bath and in the back garden, though showing no sign of shrinking.

Couldn’t stay away from the Assembly House yesterday. At lunchtime wandered up to attend the Archant annual meeting as usual. Quite strange, really: an inordinate number of suits, and a distinct lack of people from my former areas, though one of my trainees spoke to me about the new design system, and another one featured on the video about it. He is now a news editor. Brian C was the only member of the subbing group to show up: no Bruce, Robin, Peter or Hugh. This despite the excellent wine and buffet. The actual meeting was peculiar too: in the absence of chief inquisitor Mike P, no questions were asked at all following Mr J’s unusually monotone presentation: possibly the recession has brought out the Trappist in everyone. Spent some time towards the end talking to Cliff Butler’s widow Audrey, who was delighted that we remembered him, and to Jennie Downing, John’s widow, who seems as feisty as ever.

Back to the Assembly House with Dot in the evening for the Norwich Writers’ Circle open poetry competition prizegiving. Endearingly amateur organisation, with no-one seeming to know how things were going to be done, if indeed they were going to be done at all. But eventually I was announced as the winner for my poem Failing Fire, which I wrote in January after gazing into the fire after a succession of those January days in which dawn seems to slide straight into dusk with nothing in between. North Walsham cemetery made an appearance too, though incognito. To my surprise, the three other poems I submitted were also highly commended and thus got into the anthology. I read three of them and should have read the other one, but my lack of willpower got the better of me.

Very strangely, a headteacher who Dot had spoken to on the phone earlier in the day was also there, sitting next to Nic from church – who had two poems in the anthology. Also the former chair of governors at Tuckswood. Small world. There were about 620 entries from all over the country (and one or two from further afield), so I was very pleased. The judge was Hilary Mellon, a poet whose work I enjoy very much.

Today Dot has been busy: first at Brooke for a DSSO visit, and this afternoon leading four sessions at a conference for aspiring head teachers. She has spent a huge amount of time preparing for it (with some help from David); so I hope it goes well. I have just put the dinner on; she should be home soon. Managed to get in an hour’s walk this morning – Dot dropped me off at the Martineau Lane roundabout and I walked up into the city via Long John Hill and then paid in my poem cheque before walking home. Quite chilly weather, but good for walking.