Tag Archives: jessie

Speculation about past

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Julia, Dot and friend in the Higbees' garden.
Julia, Dot and friend in the Higbees’ garden.

Right on schedule, the weather has turned wintry: it is, after all, Bonfire Night tomorrow. Happily the cold conversion was preceded by some unseasonably mild weather, during which Dot and did some tidying up in the garden. But yesterday I ventured into the city with some cheques (accompanied by Dot on a different mission to Dipples and Jarrolds) and a very dark sky presented us with some unpleasantly chilly drizzle.

Ah well: all good things come to an end, they say, and I have also come to the end of my Find-my-Past credits. They warned me their time was running out, so I had a blitz, during which I discovered some stuff about my cousin Brenda, who turned out to be older than I thought, and then a little about my grandmother’s family. I have now decided to abdicate from FMP and stick to Genes Reunited, where I have my Family Tree.

Further speculation about the past occurred last week, when Dot and I went with Judy to a talk at the Quaker Meeting House on fossil evidence for the Flood and a young Earth. It was interesting enough to get Judy and me to a debate two nights later (Friday) at the same place, where the original speaker debated with a vicar who championed Evolution. I had some sympathy with the former speaker, but I don’t think he quite understood that the Bible wasn’t written in English and that references to well known figures could be to legend rather then history. The other guy was more appealing but his dependence on statistics and consensus was not terribly convincing. As always, they didn’t really answer each other’s points.

Why was Dot not present at the debate? She had a ticket to watch Norwich City beat Bolton, about which there was no dispute.

Between these ventures into the past Dot and I had a meal with Angela and Rodney at Prezzo’s, who were understaffed and hard pressed. Still, the meal was nice enough, and it was a pleasant evening, catching up on Auntie Ethel’s latest confusions.

On Sunday, in the absence of Nicholas, en route to Aspen, I led a joint service at the hall. This was because St Luke’s had given the day over to a kind of installation in which people read from the Bible for 24 hours and there was a brazier outside (not sure why). After the service Dot and I went along to hear Judy read from one of Peter’s letters. Our service had 14 Augustinians joined by ten from St Luke’s, and Howard speaking on All Souls, All Saints and Hallowe’en, and suggesting we should pay more attention to All Saints Day.

In the afternoon Dot and I visited Jessie after calling in at a gloomy cemetery to drop off flowers – almost literally, as there was not much space for parking and we were late for Mason Villa. Roger was also with Jessie, and I talked to him quite a bit about his recent America trip and about the flow and power of showers. Nice afternoon. Sad news from Phil about Sam and Lucy, who is still very unwell. Phil and Joy have just spent two weeks with them.

Answering sculpture call

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Organ recital at Paston Church, with just a hint of medieval wall painting in the background (right).
Organ recital at Paston Church, with just a hint of medieval wall painting in the background (right).

The scaffolding has departed, the roof seems secure, and a cheque for over £2000 will shortly be winging its way to the builder. So that’s all right. Meanwhile, David is in Canada for Thanksgiving, and I have written three more Iona poems in the hope of getting a book together and keeping Joy happy: she wants me to publish a book of photographs and poems.

On Wednesday I went to see the doctor, who seemed fairly happy with me and in a bit of a hurry for a training session. He is going to book me in for an ultrasound check on my upper stomach/large bowel, but he says my other symptoms (virtually none) make it unlikely that it’s anything too serious. This is not as reassuring as he might have intended it to be.

I left my glasses behind, which he didn’t notice as he flew out of the room, but when I got home, I realised what I’d done. I rang the surgery, to be told it was closed for training. I drove back anyway and found it was indeed closed, which is a rare example of joined-up thinking at Thorpewood. So I had to do without my glasses until the following  morning, when I picked them up from reception.

Later that day, we had our hair cut after a postponement from last week. This is normal – even more normal that postponing a meeting with the Coomes.

Yesterday was the much-heralded Open Day at Paston Church, organised largely by the PCC but partly by the Paston Heritage Society. Dot and I drove out, enjoyed an organ recital, and I took Penny back to North Walsham so that Rob could continue in role as John Paston in a funny hat. On my return there was a talk on medieval wall paintings, which was more interesting than it sounds. Peter was there showing an updated version of the DVD in which Rob appears with animation of a reconstruction of Paston Hall. Impressive, actually. Lucy was there for quite a while, feeling considerably better than of late. Refreshments were superb as usual, despite Brigette being called away because her no-longer-secret barn had flooded.

We called in on Jessie on the way back, adding to our refreshment, and after our return tho Norwich (through a considerable thunderstorm) we got a call from the Hendersons halfway through our mussels. As a result recalled round for champagne and a view (through the darkness) of the new sculpture, which was nicely placed and looking good. We took some cakes, which turned out to be mouldy. Ah well.

Today was Nicholas’ last communion at St Augustine’s, which attracted a motley crew of more than 30 people, including Vicky and Amy and others less distinguished. All very jolly, with excellent cake from Anna and apparently some wine, though this did not reach me. I had a nice cup of tea, though.

The godfather: a sequel

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Holly a few years ago

Holiday approaching fast. Dot is completing her packing today – or at least making a list –  prior to a day in London with Anne.  I will be packing too, but I have a “dress” rehearsal with Chronicle this afternoon.

Last night I met my god-daughter Holly for the first time since her wedding. She is now divorced and seems very happy: we had a lovely evening with her and her parents, Paul and Maryta, at Prezzos. The waiter was excellent, and Paul insisted on paying. How much better could it get? They also spent some time with us before and after the meal, and I discovered that Holly is a science fiction fan, especially Iain M Banks and Alastair Reynolds. I recommended Robert Holdstock’s Lavondyss and Mythago Wood, and lent her copies.

Dot was particularly pleased to have a good meal, because she had been fasting over Monday night in preparation for a blood test early yesterday. This meant that she was not able to have either the tea or the cake at Bridget and David’s during our monthly “cake and compline” gathering. Still, she could do the compline. Judy took us in her new car because she was a bit worried about parking it next to ours. So she had to park it at the Archers’, which is even more of a challenge.

On arrival home we forgot to retrieve the child seats which she had left at ours, so I took them to her yesterday morning while Dot was waiting for her blood test.

On Sunday we had another downpour or two – the biggest one as church ended. We were afraid that our living room would be flooded again, and were relieved (and surprised) to discover no water at all on the floor when we got home. The rain and wind were  apparently the tail end of Hurricane Bertha – much worse in some other parts of the country.

We were a bit hesitant about fulfilling our scheduled visit to Walpole Old Chapel, near Halesworth, in the late afternoon for a poetry reading. But in Suffolk there had been little rain, and it was sunny and quite warm (though a bit windy). We were amazed at the number of people there – probably around a couple of dozen or more reading – and we all got to read three shortish poems or two long ones.

I read Something is required, Flood levels and Pelican, and they seemed to be well received. Mike Bannister, the organiser, was very welcoming and wanted me to read again at another Suffolk group. Another woman (wife of Hebridean poet James Knox Whittet) was convinced she knew me, but we couldn’t work out where or how. The whole affair lasted about 2½ hours. The chapel itself was amazing.

All this followed a full Saturday, which started with Dot visiting the doctor and getting a positive response to her complaint about her thyroxin tablets being cut. (She had been feeling under the weather, apparently as a result.) This doctor restored her former dose and said she could quote him if they tried to cut it again.

From here we proceeded to Jessie’s and then to the Gunton Arms, where we had an unexpectedly  full lunch. I had been anticipating a sandwich, but we were sat at a restaurant table, so I felt I had to order a proper meal. This was a mistake, but quite typical of me. However, the shoulder of lamb was excellent. I shouldn’t have had the cheese and biscuits, though. Felt too full the rest of the day, which included Denise’s 70th birthday party in the evening.

This was fun, despite our not knowing many of the people there: it is after all 30 years since we lived in Yelverton. We chatted with the Jarys and especially enjoyed catching up with Keith, Clive and Elaine. I also had a longish chat with Barbara, who is not well but remains cheerful. It was also nice to talk to the Wrights’ new next-door neighbours, a youngish couple (though they have an 18-year-old boy who is interested in journalism).

Valley of death, but more expensive

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Dot on the heath at Beacon Hill
Dot on the heath at Beacon Hill

We’ve had the builder round to look at the roof. I climbed his ladder and had a look too, and we agreed it was the valley of death. So he’s going to fix that, as well as replace the felt along the back wall, after which hopefully no water will come in. The cost will be just over £2000; so the water had better not come in.

Naomi Care came to stay with us for one night last week, because she needed to be at the UEA early to see her friends graduate. We managed to supply food that did not irritate her  intestines, and she seemed pretty upbeat, or pretty and upbeat. Nice to have a fairly long talk with her about her family.

The next day (23rd) I went to Wiveton to see Godfrey Sayers about the book he wanted me to proof-read. It is basically about the North Norfolk coast and his life there from about the 1950s. I found it compulsive. Before visiting him I walked on Cley beach towards Blakeney Point, and afterwards I discovered the true nature of Roman Camp (or Beacon Hill), which instead of being the entrance to a caravan park as I thought, tuned out to be a beautiful wooded heath.

Eventually I agreed to proof-read an improved version of the book, and I returned it to him today. He still needs to do some work on it, and I doubt if he will get it launched by October, as he wants to. Still, he is good at launching… I spent much of this week working on it, and I got paid £150 and six fresh eggs, which can’t be bad. Godfrey is a big fan of Robert Macfarlane. I am too, and I was delighted Dot found a radio programme of him exploring the Cairngorms. Listened to it this morning in bed.

The next day Debbie House came for lunch, which we had outdoors, and I had a chat with her about her new role as occasional leader of services. I introduced her to Bible Gateway, and we had an interesting chat about meditation and body prayer, among other things.

Speaking of bodies, we had our hair cut on Friday last week, and there next day Dot had a pneumonia jab after I threatened the nurse with dire consequences if she had side-effects of our wedding anniversary the next day. I don’t think the nurse was too amused.

From there we travelled on to North Walsham, where we visited Jessie and the cemetery: both seemed to be in good shape. Then on to the Gunton Arms for a snack lunch, which we ate outside. As we were about to leave, a helicopter landed, carrying a group of young men. Rumours started flying. Was it One Direction? No, it wasn’t. As we left, two of them were standing in the doorway, smoking. Dot, being Dot, commented that it was a good way to make an entrance, and one of them said it was a stag do. Apparently the first part of the celebrations, in London the day before, had been marred by rain. I thought you’d like to know that.

On we went, back to newly discovered Roman Camp, which we explored for a while, finding parts that few others had reached. Lovely day, if a bit cooler than when I’d visited a few days earlier. We ended our day out at the Pretty Corner Tea Rooms, which were rather lovely.

Nicholas, freshly returned from Turkey, spoke at Communion the next day on our willingness not to know, saying that it was only when we relinquished control that God could guide and interact with us. To me it seemed a brilliant talk, aimed specially at me; oddly, most of the congregation felt the same, so perhaps we’re all trying too hard to be in control. Except Dot.

This was our 46th wedding anniversary, and in the evening we went to Jamie’s for our celebration meal, which included Prosecco and steak. Very good, and the waitress was also excellent.

It was so good in fact that I decided to have a blood pressure monitor fitted the next day. That’s not exactly true: the doctor insisted I have it fitted or he would give me another pill, which I didn’t want. It was on for nearly 24 hours, and when it beeped I went into a very calm state. As result, the figures seemed to be quite low. Not sure if the doctor will see it like that.

On Wednesday I went into the garage to sign the finance and insurance documents and discovered that the new car should be ready on Monday. Since then Dot has had the old car thoroughly cleaned (this morning, while I took Godfrey’s book back). Yesterday we went up to Santander to sort out our ISAs and close a couple of old accounts. This went surprisingly well, and we celebrated by visiting Presto, chatting with Kathy and Roberto and having tea and a delicious piece of Sicilian confectionery.

I have also rung Geoff Saunders and discovered he is making reasonable progress. Will try to visit him soon. Meanwhile I think we have eventually managed to come to an agreement with British Gas about the church’s direct debits. They kept sending me letters, but hopefully it’s now sorted.

Tracked down crocodile in Felbrigg Hall

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The usual suspects at Creake Abbey
The usual suspects at Creake Abbey

Summer seems to be with us: today is bright and warm, and Dot has just left for Metfield for a session with Barbara. Yesterday the weather was similar, and Dot and I had a go at cutting the hedge, with reasonable results. Of course we can’t reach the other side of the top…

Despite the bad weather forecast, we had a good weekend at Blakeney with Julia, Dave, Alan and Rosemary. The promised rain did not materialise except when we were at the hotel, and on the Sunday, when we visited Felbrigg Hall for the first time,  it was actually warm and dry.

Interesting place, and more to see inside than I had anticipated. I tracked down the picture of William Paston and his crocodile, though it was hard to distinguish the latter, because the light fell badly. Outside there are lovely grounds that we intend to explore another time, but we did have a long look at the magnificent walled garden, which includes allotments hireable by locals – a great idea.

The previous day, when we’d been expecting rain following downpours in Norwich and on the journey on the Friday, we got away with a dark sky and not much else. We did a walk at North Creake. Halfway round were the ruins of Creake Abbey, which I’d never visited, and nearby some shops and a cafe  rather beautifully presented.

After stopping for refreshment we started on the second half of the walk, but Dot was feeling her ankle; so she returned to the shops and cafe while we completed the circle, which included some rough walking over fields that she did well to avoid. After more refreshment, we popped into the rather impressive church and bought some jam, then headed home by way of Big Blue Sky, which seems to have shifted its focus away from books. Still a nice shop, though.

The hotel at Blakeney had been hit by the floods earlier in the year but had recovered well: the food was still good (especially the breakfasts), and as usual we brought the average age of residents down a bit. As usual we started the weekend with tea in the upstairs lounge at the Blakeney Hotel, with its stunning views and first-class scones.

On the Monday both Dot and I had appointments in Blakeney: she had been asked to go to the local church school to assist them in preparation for an inspection, and I called in on Godfrey Sayers, a water colour artist who has written a book on the area, where he has lived almost all his life. He has a house and rambling garden in Wiveton, and the caravan that used to be on the carnser in Blakeney displaying his pictures is now parked there. I have no idea how he got it to the inaccessible spot that it stands in. I asked him, and he said: “Land Rover.” I decided not to pursue it.

He wants me to proof read (by which I think he means edit) his book, and I took it away with me. We talked about it, and about his job as flood warden for Wiveton, and it sounds fascinating. It sits in front of me now, demanding my attention. But so do many other things. I will get to it very soon.

After meeting at the school, Dot and I called in at Cley nature reserve for a scone and drink, plus a short walk, during which we saw a marsh harrier. The scone was a bit of a mistake, because we also called at Jessie’s, where a cake awaited. I was unable to eat much of it.

The Apple picture books I created for our Iona friends have arrived, and have been sent on their way. Quite pleased with them. In sport, a brilliant match between Belgium and the USA (well, the extra time bit, anyway), and a new star at Wimbledon: Nick Kyrgios, a 19-year-old Australian, blew Nadal away.

Bluebells at Irstead

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Another gap there, I’m afraid. It’s taking me some time to get back to normal, whatever that is. Still, we have been reasonably busy.

On Monday last week, still feeling pretty jet-lagged, we went to Eleanor’s in Recreation Road (off the Avenues) for an at-home. Eleanor is chaplain at the hospital, a recent member of our congregation and is also ordained, so she took our Easter Communion when we were away. We met a few of her family, and some other members of St Augustine’s who popped in. Dot was able to advise a young woman on the path to take towards a career in teaching, so that was all good.

No let-up the next day, when a meeting of the Paston trustees took place at North Walsham. I managed to stay sufficiently awake to take the minutes, and was still fairly awake in the evening when we went with the Robinsons to the Red Lion in Eaton for a birthday celebration meal (Philip’s). I haven’t been very lucky (or clever) with my menu choices recently, and the smoked haddock was OK, but not exceptional. We all came back to 22, and there was a showing of holiday photographs on Apple TV.

Dot on the boardwalk at Barton Broad
Dot on the boardwalk at Barton Broad

The next day (Wednesday) was blank, so we decided eventually to go for a walk. I had seen a walk at Irstead in a book, but couldn’t find it, so did some web research, and we ended up surprisingly doing almost precisely the walk I’d lost (I found it again later). Irstead is pretty remote (a dead end village), but it has a lovely church, and there were plenty of bluebells nearby. We walked down narrow lanes to a newish boardwalk stretching out into Barton Broad; at the end it was pretty idyllic in the sunshine. The walk continued and was about 3½ miles altogether.

On  Thursday we had invited Jenny and Mary round for a meal as part of the new church initiative (don’t ask), but Mary was unable to come; so we had a lovely meal and evening with Jenny, who is sadly about to leave Norwich.

The “pressure” continued on Friday, when we went to an exhibition by Rupert and others at a house in Plumstead Road East. All rather strange – the house didn’t look welcoming, but it turned out to be a bit like the Tardis, with two lovely big rooms. Chatted to Rupert and in the end bought one of his paintings (not paid for yet), which he will bring round when he has the chance.

The same evening was the Paston annual meeting at the Ship Inn, Mundesley. Dot and I arrived very early as a result of unexpectedly traffic-free roads, but fortunately Rob and Penny were already there and had seized the room, which the waiters had been about to use for random diners. Some sort of misunderstanding, but they had sorted it out. In the end a very select gathering on a cold and foggy night (oh yes it was). I said a little bit about Chronicle and took the chair for the re-election of Rob, and Jo supplied some nice sandwiches. Lucy, not at all well, staggered over to give the treasurer’s report, and then staggered back with Dot’s help.

Dig-and-dial phone at Salthouse
Dig-and-dial phone at Salthouse

A weekend with the Coomes was scheduled, but Kristine rang at around 9am on the Saturday to say David had a very bad stomach problem. Dot moped around for a bit, and so we decided to go to Blakeney Hotel for afternoon tea, and that worked quite well. We got chairs and a nice view. The tide was high. We continued to Salthouse, where we were shocked to find the steep shingle bank had been flattened by the sea, and the car park buried. Added to Norwich losing 4-0 to Manchester Utd, this was a bit of a blow.

After church on Sunday we ventured out again to visit Jessie. I was feeling a bit ropey, but we had a nice time. My blood pressure, taken on Monday, was down slightly but still high and I tried to get the practice nurse interested in my problems, but she demonstrated an alarming lack of curiosity. I am now trying a bit of gluten-free to see if it helps. Meanwhile Dot was doing useful work in the garden, and not complaining.

At lunchtime I reported problems we’d been having with the pump on the central heating (it wouldn’t turn off at night), and amazingly I got an immediate response. Must have been a slow day. A guy came and not only fixed the pump but did our annual service too.

Exploring Oxnead

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Part of the original Oxnead Hall buildings
Part of the original Oxnead Hall buildings

It’s that difficult time when you’re almost ready to go on holiday, but not quite. In fact in about 90 minutes’ time I shall be showing a visiting author round the Norwich Paston sites, which will take up most of the afternoon, so that should take my mind off it. There has also been some dramatic and unexpected news from church, but I can’t reveal what it was – yet.

We have had our hair cut, so we are ready for anything. I was even ready for another request from Parish Pump to write a 300-word piece for May – this time on Gerard Manley Hopkins, who happens to be one of my favourite poets. Managed to put the words together yesterday, and they’ve been accepted.

Monday was quite exciting, and not just because it rained extremely hard in the evening. Caroline, Rob and I visited Oxnead Hall in the morning to look at where and how we could put on a Chronicle performance in September (26th).  The piece will centre on the history of the hall, and afterwards we rehearsed the first draft and made some improvements, which I have to work in on my return from Florida.

The hall’s owner, Beverley Aspinall, made us very welcome and showed us round the gardens and into a couple of amazing performance spaces they have available – one in what were the barns, and the other in the orangery.

In the evening we went with Judy to Vicky’s, where we were joined by David and Bridget for tea, wine, cakes and compline. I forgot I wasn’t driving, so didn’t have any wine. I really think senility is setting in.

Yesterday we spent preparing for the holiday, partly by catching up with paperwork and partly (mainly Dot) getting the clothes together.  Which leaves Saturday and Sunday, during which the Norwich City manager was sacked following a poor display at home to West Brom (0-1) and we had a really nice service at church, with Phil leading. I did the sermon and prayers, and Dot read a long passage about the raising of Lazarus. Several people said they liked the sermon, which was nice, and in the afternoon we went out to see Jessie at North Walsham, which was also nice.

I have the American dollars, and unfortunately Oliver has impetigo, which means he has to go to the doctor’s tomorrow (he’s been once). Hope it doesn’t prevent him enjoying the holiday. We have fed the fish for Sam while they were away and woke them up this morning (Sam and Ellie, not the fish) to make sure they were back when we saw a strange man wandering in and out of their house. Turns out he was fixing the boiler.

Yeats knew a thing or two

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Crocuses in the Rosary
Crocuses in the Rosary

Sunny and relatively mild the last few days. Went to the doctor yesterday and got some antibiotics, but didn’t feel I’d really explained the problem properly. I’m having a blood test on Friday, so that should reveal anything underlying. I get tired very easily.

Before going to the doctor’s I drove Dot to a meeting at Thorpe High School, and she walked from there to pick me up from surgery, arriving only an hour after my appointment but while I was in with the doctor. I had been in the waiting room for almost an hour, which may be a record. After lunch we walked into the city, and she got her feet looked at while I paid in some church cheques at the TSB. Dot then spent some time looking round the shops while I returned home and did some work.

Part of the work was preparing a financial report for the DCC last night. That was well received, but they are easily pleased, I’m happy to say. While waiting for the doctor I wrote a couple of poems, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.

Dot and I went to a poetry conversation at the Playhouse on Friday, organised by the UEA.  Adrian Ward and two people from the Seagull were there. There was some interesting stuff, but as usual with such things, one or two people dominated and the talk kept going off at a tangent (“things fall apart; the centre cannot hold” – W B Yeats).

On Saturday, after getting some groceries for Joy and Phil because the latter is ill in bed, we drove to North Walsham for a visit to the cemetery – followed more importantly by a meal with Jessie, attended also by Roger and Liz. Ate far too much, of course, but a very pleasant time. Jessie is having quite a lot of problems with her eyes, probably as a result of an allergy to her most recent drops.

On Sunday the vicar made an appearance, following his recent excursion to Aspen, Colorado, but the congregation was ushered out rather sharpish to make way for a baptism at 1pm, which seemed kind of odd. In the afternoon Dot and I went up to the Rosary with flowers for Mum and Dad’s grave, followed by  a glance at a house on Thorpe Road that had caught Dot’s attention.

We have extracted Dot’s car from the garage, though she collided with one side of it in the process. Now it is in a holding pattern by the roadside, because the replacement people are coming on Thursday with two big vans and need the space. Hence the arrangement mentioned in paragraph two.

Flying visit to Caddington

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Part of Amy's Christmas decorations, featuring Frosty and what appears to be a bear
Part of Amy’s Christmas decorations, featuring Frosty and a bear

Time is passing frighteningly quickly. Either that, or I’m moving frighteningly slowly. I spend too much time sorting out difficulties, usually computer-related, and being distracted – also computer-related. However, today I have managed to send out the invoices for use of the hall and have created a leaflet for use in the alternative carol service. The latter shows once again that my printer is not working properly, and several attempts to clean it have not helped. I may have to get a new one. Or use Dot’s.

A storm is brewing, with high winds already here and the promise of a storm surge bringing flooding on the coast comparable to that of 1953. You always think it’s not going to happen, but they probably thought that about Lyonesse. Well, actually they probably didn’t think about it at all.

Happily we travelled to Caddington yesterday and not today. The occasion was Amy’s participation in the Beechwood concert for senior citizens (that’s us). She played her cello and also sang with a choir. Afterwards Dot and I gorged ourselves on sandwiches and mince pies with cups of tea. We then took Amy home, and I returned with David for Oliver, meeting Natalie and Emma. We stayed for an hour or so, then had to hurtle off (much to Amy’s disgust) to get Dot to an orchestra rehearsal. We were a bit late.

On Tuesday Dot and I had a scone and drink in John Lewis’ cafe before meeting Judy outside and walking down with her to the NRO, where Lucy was defying illness and injury to give a very good talk on John Fenn – the penultimate lunchtime lecture of the Paston exhibition. Rob and Penny were there, as was Diana as Lucy’s chauffeur. Afterwards we walked home and bumped into Lena outside Morrisons.

On Sunday I preached on optimism, and in the afternoon we drove to North Walsham, the cemetery and Jessie (not simultaneously).   She was a bit below par because Ray’s funeral was the following day.

Meanwhile Phil and Joy have rushed down to Southampton because Lucy has had a problem following the birth of Elliott and is having treatment. An anxious time for all of them. The baby seems to be fine, though.

Shut out of exhibition

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Dot, with the University Broad in the background
Dot, with the University Broad in the background

I am writing this while listening to Norwich City getting hammered by Manchester City: 4-0 down after about half an hour and apparently unable to get the ball in their possession at all. Bit worried about Dot’s mental state.

Earlier in the week things went rather better for her. On Tuesday she went to an orchestra party and had a great time playing some tunes by sight. Meanwhile I was cooking for seven.  I say cooking: it was soup from a container, but it went Ok, with the help of a pineapple from Judy and an upside-down apple cake from Bridget.

On Wednesday we had our hair cut, just in time for me to walk to the Norfolk Record Office to hear Dr John Alban speak on the Fastolf letter. Very good stuff. Saw Judy and her friend there and said hello to a couple of NRO staff. Got back just as Dot’s accountant was preparing to leave.

On Thursday we were determined to have some time to ourselves; so after an eye test at Boots (varifocal glasses on order)  we went to Presto for lunch then deposited some cheques in two banks before getting a bus to the UEA to see the Masterpieces exhibition at the Sainsbury Centre. However, strike action by university unions had led to the closure of the centre. Not sure what I’ve done to hurt the university unions, but then strikes rarely affect the people they’re supposed to. Instead, we went for a brief walk in the university grounds and over to the hospital before getting another bus home (from the university).

Yesterday turned out better than expected, so we drove to Cromer to have lunch at the Bella Vista restaurant – which did indeed have a beautiful view of the pier and seashore. The food was pretty good too. Before reaching the restaurant we ran into Rupert and Shirley in the car park, where we bought some flowers on the way back – after a walk along the front.

From Cromer we drove to North Walsham cemetery, catching a glimpse of Jessie on the way (Dot got out of the car and had quite a long chat). Got home in good time for tea and watched four episodes of Breathless on TV. After two good nights, I had a very bad one.