Tag Archives: paston

Rattling around as usual

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Fireworks at the Castle, as seen from Aspland RoadFireworks at the Castle, as seen from Aspland Road

As I sit here writing this, my wife is mixing with Royalty. A governor of Little Plumstead Primary School, she is meeting Prince Edward (Earl of Wessex) as he visits the school as part of a Norfolk tour. She was panicking slightly as she left because she had just received an e-mail saying that all the parking places were booked and she should park at the church. She wasn’t sure where that was, but no doubt it all turned out all right.

The weather has remained fairly wintry – or at least autumny. I guess it will remain so till about next May. Not sure humans were ever meant to live at these latitudes. Things have been quite hectic, even without the royalty.

Last Saturday I secured an appointment with my uncle Paul and delivered a version of our family tree that he had requested. Needless to say, he didn’t remember requesting it, but he remembers very little nowadays except who people are. When I rang him to arrange the visit, my cousin Stephen was with him, and I had a quick chat with him. He was very upbeat, despite worsening MS. After a pleasant half an hour, I left Paul to his Wiltshire Farms meal and the opportunity to examine the tree. I’ve had no feedback yet, but he was very appreciative of all my efforts. I said I had enjoyed doing it, which was true.

In the evening we visited another Paul – Henderson of that ilk – who was singing in the Philharmonic at St Andrew’s Hall at the time. Good programme: Debussy’s La Mer (orchestra only), then Lloyd’s Mass, which was excellent. Afterwards Paul and Maryta came back for coffee as the rain beat down, and I drove them home.

Another busy day on Sunday: first the Remembrance Communion at church, led by Howard and with Eleanor officiating and preaching. Reading of the names was emotional as always. Phil had called off both church and the Seagull because of work pressures; so in the afternoon Dot and I drove to Aldeburgh to see James Knox Whittet’s exhibition of sonnets and pictures relating to Islay. Although we missed the opening, we were there in time to see James and his wife – and sample some Islay whisky.

We followed this with fish and chips next door at the Galleon (also excellent) and a brief walk on the seafront in the darkness before heading north to Lowestoft. Dot remembered where there was a Morrisons garage and so we were able to save some money on petrol (we had a voucher). We arrived in Pakefield early and so drove down to the harbour and got a drink at the Harbour Inn, which was unexpected and pleasant. Then on to the Seagull, where we rehearsed for a while. Very few people present; so I got an opportunity to sing three songs and read two poems. Dot accompanied me on two of the songs, but declined on the third.

When we set off for Norwich I left my glasses behind. After searching exhaustively for them at home on Wednesday (after managing without them for a couple of days, assuming they’d turn up) I e-mailed Ian, who not only had found them but was about to travel to Norwich; so he dropped them off yesterday afternoon, while I was out but Dot wasn’t.

Travelled to North Walsham on Monday for a meeting of the Paston Trustees, during which Lucy outlined plans for yet another grant bid – this time for a project that had to be completed by the end of March next year. I pointed out the ridiculously short time frame, but to no avail. She is bidding for the money.

In the early evening Naomi arrived to stay for a couple of nights while she completed some work at the UEA. She planned to leave at 8.30 the following morning, but it was after 9.30 before she appeared. Still, all apparently went well. In the afternoon I had my urology appointment at Cromer. They were running nearly an hour late, and none of the expected things like x-ray and scanning happened. I had a flow test, which was OK, and a bit of an examination, but failed to convince the doctor that anything was wrong. So no change there, then.

Yesterday we took the MX5  in to the garage because of a rattle that I had been worried about for some time. I went for a run with mechanic Wayne (nice bloke), who diagnosed it en route as a loose caliber pin sheath (not sure that’s the right word) on the left front wheel. We left it while he packed it with grease and made sure there was no risk of anything going wrong when Dot travels to Liverpool in about ten days. When we picked it up again in late afternoon, it was much better: Dot also got some new mats, which were remarkably cheap, given the cost of everything else with the name Mazda on it.

While the car was in the garage I paid some cheques in and then went to see The Pity of War, a short piece written by and starring David Newham on the friendship between Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen and including (of course) some of their work. While waiting to go in I bumped into Sue and Roger, and sat with them. Also said hello to Trevor Burton, another ex-colleague and actor, afterwards, as well as congratulating David.

Unfortunately, though, I had to rush off, because I had an appointment to meet Joy McCall and Nick Gorvin at 3pm to discuss plans for my Iona book, which Joy insists on financing. First time I’ve been to her house, which is impressive – especially the Garden Room. All specially adapted so that she can move around freely in her wheelchair. Also met her husband Andy for the first time and was able to check that he didn’t mind his wife spending her money in producing a book for me. He didn’t.

After some deep discussion and a brief chat about the book, I have agreed to make it thicker so that it can be perfect bound. Joy insists. I think Nick is a bit bemused by the whole thing. I suppose I am really.

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.

Karen and Julia at UEA

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Dave, Dot and Julia at the start of the walk, near Paston Great Barn
Dave, Dot and Julia at the start of the walk, near Paston Great Barn

The roof has been restored – we hope. It’s raining today, and it rained more on Saturday: no evidence of water getting in, but we’ve had nothing like the downpours that caused the original problem.

Builder Bert finished on Thursday – earlier than we thought and his departure coincided  with the appearance of the window cleaner; so I didn’t have a proper discussion with him. Later I noticed that some leading around the chimney was loose; so I contacted the scaffolders, who I thought were going to remove the scaffolding on Friday. They said they weren’t, and  they’d get Bert to ring me, but nothing happened.

I rang them again on the Saturday morning and left a message asking for Bert’s phone number (which I’d lost). They rang back with it, and I was eventually able to speak to him. He came round on Sunday morning and repaired the leading – all of this fitting in neatly with our other weekend activities centring on the visit of the Evetts. The scaffolding is still there, but it should go tomorrow. The Evetts are in St Albans, on their way to pick up Amy.

Before they got here, on the Wednesday, when it was still warm, I visited the dentist, who cleared me at a cost of £98, and then Geoff Saunders, who had had a recent seizure problem resulting in a sudden visit to hospital. This turned out to be more spectacular than serious, and he was quite chirpy. His right side had improved a lot, and he said his feet were getting better. HIs carer, Lisa, was there, and we all had a cup of tea and biscuits.

In the evening, while Dot was at orchestra, I visited the Arts Centre for a performance of The Shipwrecked House by poet Claire Trévien. It opened with some new poems from Martin Figura, and I found myself seated next to his wife, Helen Ivory; so I couldn’t heckle. As if: one or two of the poems, on politicians and machines, were quite good. The main event was disappointing, despite its glowing reviews. I probably should have read the book before I went, because it was hard to make out what was going on, and she wasn’t easy to hear in the face of the sound effects (sea, storm etc). 

The next day I was picked up fairly early by Rob Knee, and we visited Karen Smyth at UEA to talk about a big research project relating to the Pastons that Karen would like to get money for. In the afternoon Dot and I were supposed to have our hair cut, but when it became apparent that Linda wasn’t coming, Dot rang her, and she said she’d sent me a message on Facebook. I then discovered that she had, but for some reason it hadn’t reached my e-mail inbox. Ho hum.

Dave and Julia arrived about 1.30pm on Friday. We had lunch and then walked the riverside path up to the art school, followed by tea and coffee at Costa’s in London Street. It was warm enough to sit outside, and it was still pretty warm the next morning when Julia went off to a conference at which she was speaking at UEA and we took Dave (via bus and the rail bridge) to walk round the new broad at Whitlingham, plus a bit of Thorpe Green.

After lunch we took the bus again – this time to the Sainsbury Centre for a superb exhibition entitled Reality. Some really mesmerising  paintings, including a couple by Kate Coleman. Particularly liked Clive Head and John Keane. During this the forecast rain arrived, and the temperature fell. Julia emerged from her conference and joined us for a drink in the restaurant, and then we took the bus home – a 70-minute marathon during which we waited interminably on Foundry Bridge to turn right into a road packed with stationary cars. The bus was jammed, but at least the rain was stopping.

In the evening we walked up to Jamie’s for an excellent meal: our waiter was Steve, who we had had before. He was first class.

On Sunday it was dry, but with some chilliness in the air. After Bert fixed the leading round the chimney, we drove to Mundesley for scones and tea, and then did a shortened version of one of the Paston walks, starting at the church and visiting Edingthorpe after doing a bit of blackberry picking on the way (crumble for supper later); then completing the circle. Just over four miles, and we popped into the recently repaired church before we returned to Mundesley for tea and cake.

In the evening we watched the Japanese grand prix, the result of which we had been keeping from Dave all day.

Cool – we’re in Ballater

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From the Crathie-Tomintoul road this afternoon
From the Crathie-Tomintoul road this afternoon

Here we are in Ballater, in a beautiful cottage near the town square, and it’s just stopped raining. It’s markedly cooler than it’s been for weeks in Norfolk, and we have the heating on, though the wood-burning stove remains unlit. We’ve just been to church, which is roughly two minutes away, and had an early lunch: pie and sausage roll from the bakery.

We arrived yesterday at around 3.15pm after filling up at the petrol station, and the owner of the cottage – a youngish woman called Sue – was here to meet us. She was very pleasant and was clearly keen not to intrude. She left us a bottle of nice merlot and some chocolate biscuits. The cottage is pretty near perfect, except for the lack of a tumble drier. I suspect it has been completely refurbished very recently. We have the downstairs bedroom, with an en suite bath and shower. The Eagles will be upstairs, which is only right.

Last night we bought some food from the usual place and visited the river, which apparently burst its banks last week. The woman in the bakery said she had never seen it so “angry”. Some sandbanks are still lying around, and the river is quite high, but there are no longer any sheep being washed down to the sea. We booked meal at La Mangiatoia for tonight and failed to book one at the Glen Lui for Monday, when it is “residents only”. Then we bought some Indian from the takeaway directly opposite, which was fine but far too much.

TV reception is good, and so is WiFi. We watched Match of the Day (or most of it) in bed and caught up with Norwich this morning on iPlayer (Norwich 3 Watford 0).

The journey was mixed. The first part, from Norwich to Lockerbie (Annandale Water) was pretty awful. We followed our new satnav and took the direct route via the A17 and the A1 for a change. Never again. The A17 was funereal, averaging around 40mph and too many cars to make overtaking feasible. The A1 was even worse, continually stop-start until we took the M18 to avoid  a nervous breakdown, stopped at services and came back on the M62, rejoining the A1 further up, where it was much clearer.

However, we then made the mistake of acting on advice from someone who recommended an east-west route through Bedales, Leyburn and Hawes. Beautiful road, but very twisty and therefore slow. Eventually we hit the M6 near Kendal and stopped for petrol at the Westmorland services. After this the going was very easy, but the whole journey still took us nine hours, and we had stopped for only about an hour in all. Distance: 342 miles. Our one lengthy stop was for lunch at The Chestnuts – favourite stop on the A17 for the Evetts and the Towns. We will probably never go there again, but it was very nice.

Annandale Water services: excellent room, with balcony and view of the lake. Pleasant receptionist. Poor restaurant facilities: McDonalds or Costa. We chose the latter, and also had breakfast there the next morning, me with sandwiches and fruit from Smiths, Dot with a croissant. the journey from there was pretty easy, though the A9 was unexpectedly slow. We stopped at Stirling services and then were held up by road works approaching Perth.

We had a sandwich by the Cairnwell chairlift and then proceeded through rain to Ballater, where it was much brighter.

I should mention a couple of events before we left. On Wednesday I had a “dress” rehearsal of Chronicle at Rob’s, which seemed to go quite well. Caroline tried on her new dress, made by Penelope, which can be seen on the Paston Heritage Society Facebook page.

On Thursday, with Dot in London for the day with Anne, I checked in at the printer to approve a dust jacket for the Chronicle book and (later) picked up Dot’s pills. In the afternoon there was a meeting at Mundesley of the PHS trustees, where I got rather annoyed with Lucy because her drive was so appalling and I was afraid I might have damaged the car.  I hadn’t (as far as I know), but the drive was far worse than it was last time. Not much to report from the meeting, but I managed to write the minutes when I got home.

 

David, Chrissy and party

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Dot, Amy and Oliver on the brink
Dot, Amy and Oliver on the brink

David, Chrissy and the grandchildren have come and gone. It was a rather unusual visit that seemed to pass too quickly. It opened with a bang: Dot arranged an Arbonne party at the house for Wednesday evening, to which many of her friends were invited. Parking problems were surmounted through the use of chauffeurs (Julia), remote  parking (Anne and Bridget) and my positioning the MX5 in Rosary Road to make room for Sue and Judy. Too much detail, I hear you say.

The party seemed to go well, though I’m not sure how financially successful it was: in any case there is a suspicion that most of the friends came to see Chrissy, David and the grandchildren. I can hardly blame them for that.  I should make clear that it is Chrissy who is the Arbonne consultant, not Dot.

The weather has been warm, and some of the party was in the garden. On the Thursday Dot and I took the children to Winterton, one of their favourite spots, where we had a late lunch at the cafe and followed it up by some hide-and-seek in the dunes, which my ankle stood up to reassuringly well. Even Dot was able to move about a bit 🙂 We also spent some time on the beach, when all of us paddled.

While we did this, David and Chrissy were doing my Norwich Paston walk, partly as a test for some software he’s writing. They appeared not to get lost. There was also a great deal of table tennis played, with Oliver improving visibly as the three days progressed. In the end he was beating both Dot and me. Amy spent a lot of time watching some kind of drama on her small screen, and did not welcome intruders.

L:ate on the Friday David and Chrissy took my car to Suffolk to visit a cousin  of Chrissy’s. Earlier Richard had called round coincidentally and was able to talk to David about websites and similar matters.

The Caddington contingent returned home on Saturday just after lunch, following a visit to Hobbycraft and Morrisons and an unsuccessful search for a Mr Whippy. Sorry, Amy. The journey went well – probably a good time to travel.

After a rest in the afternoon, Dot and I went next door for a meal. Much of it was in the back garden, the weather still being very warm. But it ended in a thunderstorm:  we rushed home to take washing off the line when we saw the lightning, but returned for another half an hour.  Good food and drink and some enjoyable conversation, mainly philosophical 🙂

But this thunderstorm was nothing compared to the one that hit Norwich yesterday afternoon. We had been to church, where I preached on God being with us, and were sitting watching television when there was a huge, prolonged cloudburst. It wasn’t long before water came into our living room again. It seemed to come down the walls, but there was more on the floor than seemed to be indicated by marks on the walls. We got the towels out again and mopped it up.

Next door had flooding in the bathroom, and are having a builder round tomorrow. He is popping in to see us too.

In the evening Dot and I went to Lowestoft for a Seagull performance. We read a tanka series together and then I read a couple of my other poems which were well received, especially by Kaaren Whitney, who wants me to read at some other place in Suffolk in August. Uniquely, there was a guest poet, Rodney Pybus, who was pretty good, but it left little time for others, and the whole thing didn’t finish till after 10pm, by which time we were pretty tired.

Table tennis triumph

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Dot in the woods at Felbrigg
Dot in the woods at Felbrigg

Busy day last Thursday: so busy that Dot got confused and ended up doing a presentation at Little Plumstead school instead of coming to the Paston members’ meeting at Bacton, where Susan Curran spoke rather well and then almost had a fight with Lucy about the Pastons’ reputation and origins.

Earlier we had a Chronicle meeting at Rob’s house, preparing the Oxnead event and discussing various other things, including the book. It seems I will be wearing some kind of costume. I may have to leave the country. Afterwards Rob and Penny entertained me to tea, which meant I was pretty full when faced with the fabled Paston refreshments.

Still, at least we all got there, despite signs declaring the Bacton road closed (it wasn’t). Apparently removing road signs afterwards isn’t included in the contract for repairing a road. Not many people at the talk, but a nice evening.

Dot and I missed an extraordinary meeting of the PCC that discussed the parish profile (probably a good thing), but I made some comments beforehand that Howard passed on. I called on him the next day and bumped into Beth, who is looking very well.

On the same day we emerged triumphant in our table tennis encounter with the Robinsons, despite not having practised. It was interspersed with lasagne and a couple of world cup quarter-finals, both of which were pretty dire. Philip went to sleep at one point.

Saturday and Sunday were quiet, apart from a lively Communion service and afters at church. Elvira brought a cake, and there was some jamming with Carrie (using my guitar), Dot and a guy from the farm, who plays the piano by ear.

Today, which has been muggy, Dot visited a couple of schools and continued the task she started yesterday: painting the kitchen. She claims to like doing it; so I let her do it (as if I had a choice). It all makes me feel uneasy, though.

Have had a look at Godfrey Sayers’ book and made him an offer. Haven’t heard from him; so it was probably ill-judged.

Children and poetry highlights of the week

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Dot walking near Worstead
Dot walking near Worstead

An exciting week, with two highlights: first, Oliver and Amy (that’s one), and second, the Suffolk Poetry Festival.

On Wednesday we headed for Caddington to collect the children for a short half-term stay with us: quite a while since they’ve been here on their own. The weather over the three days wasn’t ideal, but we had a great time around the house; so it didn’t matter. Table tennis came into its own, as did several other games, most of them invented by Amy. Dot even managed to fit in a blood test (before we went on the Wednesday) and an ECG (on the Wednesday afternoon).

We returned them on the Friday, managing to get them home by 1pm: they had a playdate with Chloe and Thomas in the afternoon. It’s all go for them too. Road works outside Luton are getting difficult, and as a result we found two new ways home: the first, on Wednesday, up the M1, along the A421, A1 and A428, joining the A14 at Cambridge – further but still quite quick; the second was a little detour round Stockwood Park, approaching the bedevilled roundabout from the less congested side. Much less congested, actually.

We had a slight alarm on the Tuesday, when after a huge downpour that lasted most of the morning we ended the day by finding water under the record player unit – not much, but it would have filled a bowl or two. Bit of a mystery: the walls were dry, the ceiling was dry, it was nowhere near the window, and we could only conclude that water had come down the chimney and through a gap where the floor joins the wall.

Unless it happens again, I shall treat it as a freak event and do nothing. I should imagine finding the gap and fixing it (if that is the problem) might be quite costly.

Earlier that day I had been to a PHS Trustees’ meeting at Mundesley. It was still raining hard, but not as bad as in the morning. I picked up Rob and gave him a lift. Lucy was not so good and told us that her cancer had returned. She will be having new treatment in a couple of months, but is soldiering on for now.

On Saturday we went to the Suffolk Poetry Festival in Stowmarket – chosen, I guess, for its easy access. Ho, ho. I was part of a small group from the Seagull poetry event, and I got to read three poems, plus a pentaptych tanka with Dot. This cost us £50, which represented £25 each entry to afternoon and evening of the festival.

I wasn’t over the moon about the money, but in fact I really enjoyed the day, partly because Caroline Gilfillan was one of the featured readers in the evening, and we were able to chat quite a lot. Other featured readers were Kate Foley (superb) and Luke Wright (totally off the wall and a great entertainer), but some of the other readers were good too. The weather was reasonable, and the journey no problem, though it took about an hour (roughly 40 miles). Dot was complimented on her reading and her jacket.

Yesterday afternoon Dot and and I went to Open Studios in Muspole Street, calling in briefly at St Peter Hungate first, as it was open. Saw Sophie Cabot, one of the trustees and a reader at the Julian Week. At Muspole Street we saw Martin Laurance, Lucy Edwards, Martin Mitchell and a couple of others artists – one printer and one jeweller. A warm day and a pleasant walk.

Today I’ve been to the supermarket, done a bit of catching up (but more to be done), then attended a Chronicle meeting at Fakenham, which left me with much more work toward the new Oxnead book and upcoming performance. I am about to have my hair cut, and then we will have a meal with Angela and Rodney at Prezzos to discuss A Ethel. Well, someone has to do it.

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.

Paston walk with Rebecca

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By way of a postscript, just before leaving for Caddington en route to Florida, I had a most enjoyable day yesterday with Rebecca de Saintonge, looking round the Norwich Paston sites. Dot joined us for lunch in the refectory at the Cathedral to start with, and then  she returned home while Rebecca and I did a variation on The Walk, omitting the Castle but including the Cathedral and Julian’s Cell.

Rebecca was born in the same month as me, but in Devon, and her name is French Canadian. She was lively and intelligent and generally fun to be with – and she and her husband are very interested in Dot’s philosophy work. She is aiming to write a historical novel centring on Richard Calle and Margery Paston. Gave her a copy of my tanka book. Interesting theological discussions too.

It was a sunny day, just right for walking. We managed to get into St Andrew’s Hall, and she persuaded a guy setting out a flea market there to open and close the Paston doors so that she could take a photograph.

 

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.