I’ve spent the week building up to our Scottish holiday, which starts later today – at least, we’re leaving Norwich later today, eventually arriving at Inverey, where we’re renting a house, on Saturday. Today proved more hectic than I anticipated. While Dot went by train to Ipswich with Sue to attend a P4C meeting, I expected to be taking it easy, but it didn’t turn out like that. All the packing was done, but I had to go up to the tip, then to the garage to fill up with petrol. I had an eye test in the city (happily, I still have two reasonably good ones) and ordered some new glasses, then bought a couple of other things it occurred to me might be useful. Out of the blue, someone ordered two of my poetry books (no complaints there), and I had to put them in an envelope (trickier than it sounds) and take them up to the post office. Happily, our Barclaycard bill also came today, and I was able to pay it and rest easy for the next fortnight.

The weather is quite sticky, but no rain today: earlier in the week there had been occasional showers. I have been getting stick for saying the weather hasn’t been too good, and of course the stick-wielder is right. It has been pleasantly warm for a while, and only occasional rain. I’m feeling considerably better, though still not as fit as I’d like. I’m hoping Scotland will give me a boost. Well, it’s possible. Encouraged by our Tuesday group meeting this week: lots of love floating around.

Grandson Oliver tackles the climbing wall at his school fun night.

Quite a week. I was well enough to have the operation, despite a brave attempt to get into a different hospital by falling headlong in the street the day before. My computer had gone in for repair, and I was carrying my external hard drive in for testing when I trod on some uneven ground outside the shop, which is in a rather rundown area of the city. I hit the ground quite hard because I instinctively tried to protect the hard drive (success there), and twisted my ankle quite painfully. Happily the injury was not too severe, and I was able to walk all right, but it was a bit of a shock – I suspect more of a shock than I realised at the time. I also jarred my shoulder – again I didn’t realise it till later – but I was lucky not to do serious damage. The computer is OK too.

So we arrived at the hospital at 7am on Thursday, and I had the operation at 8. Since you ask, it was a cysto-urethroscopy with bladder neck incision, which sounds like an Olympic dive, but isn’t. I was awake again not long after 9, and had no pain. At first everything seemed brilliant, but later there was a bit of a hiccup, and I thought it hadn’t worked at all. Happily that was just temporary, and it does seem to have done the job. Because of the uncertainty I stayed in the hospital overnight (though I was given permission to go home), and Dot picked me up at 10am yesterday.  I felt a bit tired, though I had slept quite well. It was probably a mistake healthwise to go to Peter Franzen’s farewell party in the boardroom, but I’m quite glad I did, because I was able to say goodbye and also to chat to a few old friends, including Ian from the printers and David Paull, who is doing very well. Also Alison Croose from Lynn. The gap is widening.

If that was a mistake, going out for the evening must have been too, though Dot and I had a really good time at the Higbees’ with their friends John Martin and Larisa, his wife, who is Russian. John is an author, and the conversation was really interesting. Felt fine while we were there but very tired afterwards, and today I am feeling extremely weary, which is annoying, as David and the grandchildren are here. Have taken an antibiotic in case of infection, but it’s probably just after-effects. Phil and Joy also called in this morning, and Phil told me all about his visit to Open, the new facility for teenagers in the old Barclays building in Norwich. Sounds absolutely amazing. Dot and the children are now up at Chapelfield at a funfair (it’s Lord Mayor’s Procession day) and David has walked up too after initially dropping them off. The weather is a little threatening and not very summery. Dot is much better, though still clogged up, especially in the mornings.

Dot’s cousin Rosie, pictured at her North Norfolk rose nursery when we visited with the Murrays in May.

Dot has had a bad couple of days. Though her throat improved dramatically (so it clearly wasn’t tonsillitis), whatever it was initially turned into a really bad congestive head cold, and she was in bed all weekend. I did my nurse-cook impersonation and kept her well-fuelled with food and drink while worrying constantly that I might catch it, which would inevitably delay my operation. All right so far, though I am by no means 100%. Last night she was coughing really badly, and I had a bad night myself for unrelated reasons, having to get out of bed almost every hour. So feeling a bit woozy. Foolishly, although she cancelled this morning’s DSSO meeting, Dot has gone off to Dussindale for another meeting with Sue Eagle. She has this admirable determination not to let people down, but I fear it could get her into trouble.

We watched the men’s final at Wimbledon: a real epic, with Roddick just failing to survive against Federer, 16-14 in the final set. Despite admiring Federer, I didn’t want Roddick to lose. Nobody should have to lose a match like that. Dot is now reading Franny and Zooey, by J D Salinger, which has been on my bookshelf for possibly 40 years or more without my reading it. I finished it a couple of days ago and thought it was excellent. All that time I had thought Zooey was a girl… Nothing much happens, but the conversation and description make the whole thing really vivid, and the ideas – especially when worked out at the end – are fascinating. I picked it off the shelf because I saw a reference to it in Into the Silent Land, by Martin Laird, the guy who spoke at St Luke’s recently. I intend to read that, so I thought it might be a good idea to read F & Z first, so that I could understand the reference. Glad I did.

Have written a liturgy/meditation/poem for the Ambient Wonder event which will be trialled on Sunday before being put on at Greenbelt in August. Quite pleased with it. Have also provisionally booked the Ballater cottage for a second week in Scotland – all depending how I recover from the operation, if indeed I am well enough to have it. The weather has broken: now much fresher and with some heavy, thundery rain this morning – fortunately not till after I had gone up to the hospital for a blood test.

The picture is of  a cannon (inoperative) at the mouth of Hull marina, taking a shot at anything that moves in the Humber. If my camera was a Canon, that would be a neat pun, but it isn’t: it’s a Panasonic. Bit tricky, that. I was down there in the warm sun of Thursday afternoon, having checked over all the portfolios at the Hull Daily Mail which, quite surprisingly, seemed to be OK. I was meeting Sylvia, the internal verifier from Sussex, in the evening,  so I had a bit of time on my hands. Though it was hot in the town, by the river there was a chilly wind, and the water outside the harbour was noticeably choppy. Took a few pictures and walked back through the old town. All this was a part of Hull I had never seen: previously I had been in and out, not deviating. I have to say I was quite impressed. Sylvia’s train from London was cancelled, and the substitute arrived late. We walked back to the hotel and grabbed a meal. I had fish and chips. The chips were all right, but the fish looked as if if had been unwilling to take part.

Had quite a reasonable night: I normally sleep badly in hotels. The breakfast was excellent: continental style, including bread roll, hard-boiled eggs, cheese and cold meat. And other stuff, of course, but that suited me. As we ate it started raining. It had been overcast from the start, in stark contrast to the day before. By the time we left to walk to the office it was tipping it down, and if I were to say we didn’t get pretty wet, I would be lying. Still, no lasting damage. Portfolios checked again by Sylvia, just in time for the arrival of biscuits, followed by the external verifier, Anne Hayes. Happily all was in order, except some details from the original centre (PA Training), which Sylvia will obtain, and details of when I became qualified to assess, which I had forgotten. I emailed the certificates when I got home.

Train journey back was quite pleasant, with the sky gradually getting brighter. Changed at Grantham, where I said goodbye to Sylvia, and had to wait an hour for my connection. Had a sandwich and cup of tea, and the time soon passed. Something amusing happened at Ely. The guy sitting in the seat adjacent to mine, who was of the I’m-going-to-put-my-feet-on-the-opposite-seat-and-I-don’t-care-what-you-say variety, had been sitting with his back to the engine. When the bloke sitting almost opposite him got out, he immediately changed seats. Unfortunately, the train changes direction at Ely, so he was still sitting with his back to the engine. Worse (for him), a couple of people came and occupied the opposite seats, so he couldn’t put his feet up. I know I shouldn’t have felt rather satisfied, but I did. Of course I could be quite wrong: he might like travelling with his back to the engine and changed deliberately. But I don’t think so.

I arrived back to find my wife laid low by tonsillitis. She had seen the nurse, who as usual decided it was a virus and wouldn’t give her antibiotics. So that’s put that off for a few days. Meanwhile she had a bad night, but happily this morning her throat is less sore. I have cancelled the Coomes, who were supposed to be coming tomorrow, and stocked up on supermarket fodder. We were out of practically everything.

Don’t know where she got the throat thing from. We had a barbecue at Ed’s on Tuesday, but no-one there was ill. Then she went to a Nafpht meeting on Wednesday and the UEA on Thursday. The latter is the most probable. Of course we had our hair cut on Wednesday. That’s always risky. Weather is warm again today, but the forecast is not so good: rain in the offing.

Warm has become hot, with occasional rain. This morning it is sunny, and Dot is about to go off to Hethersett to see her aunt and cousin. I had a bad night and am feeling pretty tired. The last three days have been full: on Friday and Saturday we were at St Luke’s all day as volunteers for the Martin Laird visit. Caught a bit of what he said, and liked it. Yesterday I led the service at St Augustine’s and fitted a bell in the loo, as requested by an occasional visitor who is disabled. I can foresee problems involving intrigued toddlers and am going to write a note to go with it – not that that will avoid the toddler problem: I suppose it could make it worse. In the afternoon Fred and Sue came round for tea. They were in Norfolk for the marriage of his sister Marjorie to Pat. We spent a stimulating afternoon together, starting with a cup of tea in the garden (pictured: the weather was warm enough even for me) and ending with a sort of high tea. As a result the pizza at Ambient Wonder  in the evening was a step too far, and I had only the slimmest slice before realising that I really, really wasn’t hungry.

Dot and I decided to take a day off yesterday and, after leaving the MX5 to be MOT-tested, we went to Blakeney for lunch at the Manor Hotel (fried whitebait for me), then walked out along the quay before moving on to Cley, where we parked at the visitor centre and walked out to the hides. Very chill wind blowing directly into the hide, but if you could get out of the wind, it was a beautifully sunny and warm day. Got out of the wind for a while among the reeds, and tried to identify a few flowers and birds. While we were briefly in the hide, a birder kindly let us look through his new bit of kit and we saw a spoonbill and a redshank, which I believe are birds. From there to Cley Green, a beautifully green and quiet spot about a mile inland, with an excellent pub and outstandingly large church, which had not only bats but what appeared to be house martins nesting in the porch. Or church martins. Of course they could have been spoonbills or redshanks. (Dot is pictured in the pub garden, quietly pleased.)

Took a look at a beautiful slate carving in the memorial garden by Philippa, who I met at the Twenty Group party. It was in memory of former Cathedral Dean Alan Webster, who I noticed planted a tree on the riverside walk in 1972. Have written a poem partly inspired by memorials, trees, slate and the passing of time.

Eight at Tuesday Group last night, and it was warm enough to eat outside. Very sheltered in the back garden. Dot has now departed for Dickleburgh, to visit a school there. I have received the paperwork for my operation and discovered it was for a slightly different operation. I checked, and all is OK.

By the way, I lost my chess game on Monday. Misplayed the opening, and never recovered. Last of the season: I like to finish on a low note.

Dot and Dave Evetts at or near the summit of a minor peak on Wiveton Downs, near Blakeney. About 145ft, and in case this does not impress you, it is a higher than a blue whale standing on its tail. Or its head. See earlier post for more details of this impressive walk.

England are now out of the world 20-over cricket cup, having allowed West Indies to score 80 in nine overs to win by the ridiculous Duckworth-Lewis method. Our captain, on being asked whether he had considered the weather forecast when he chose to bat, replied: “Certainly not.” My question is “Why on earth not?” It’s well known that the second team to bat has an advantage under Duckworth-Lewis, and it was pretty obvious that it was going to rain. England didn’t really impress, even when beating India.

We had a large amount of rain last night, and I had to go out in it to play chess. Clarification: I wasn’t actually playing chess in the rain, but I had to get through the rain to reach the venue. In the end I managed to draw after winning a piece for two pawns and failing to preserve the advantage. Rain easing off on the way home, but I still got wet.

I’m seeing the consultant privately tomorrow to clarify certain points about the operation I shall be having shortly. It’s hard to get over all you want to say during the ten-minute clinic slot, particularly when the guy you’re talking to hasn’t had time to read the notes (understandably). I understand it’s probably a cysto-urethroscopy, which has got to be impressive, hasn’t it?

Went for a curry with the Savignys on Sunday evening, after taking complete control of the service at St Augustine’s in the morning. Met at the King’s Head as usual and went on to the wonderful Ali Tandoori’s for (in my case) a chicken bhuna and mushroom bhaji. Excellent evening.