Tag Archives: seagull

Entertained extravagantly

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Birthday girl Annette at sunny Dunwich

I’m writing this as I await the arrival of the gas man – an appointment pinpointed at between 8am and 1pm. It is Andrew’s birthday. Hopefully his presents will have arrived, and I will phone him later.

Again, it has been a busy week. After mentioning that the meal for our last Tuesday Group would be cold because we were both too shattered post-holiday to cook, the Archers and Vicky both volunteered to bring food. In the end we had a curry prepared by Vicky and a nice evening. Tonight’s has been cancelled because we’re going to West Runton to see Fred and Sue.

On Wednesday I had my last session with Sharon. My shoulder is not completely better, but it is much improved. Quite enjoyed a bit of physiotherapy, and I shall miss it.

We were entertained lavishly twice last week: on Friday by the Greens – an evening meal in their garden with Claire and Phil, followed by tea and coffee upstairs in their unique house. Food and wine were in plentiful supply, as was the conversation. A lovely evening.

The following day we were at Dunwich, where we helped Annette celebrate her 50th birthday at the Cliff House holiday park, which is a lot better than it sounds and which her family and friends seemed to have taken over. Annette had a beautiful cottage, others were in tents, and the celebration centred on her mother’s large wooden chalet where, again, food and drink were abundant.

We eventually located the latter by the Liverpool accents and eventually Annette’s distinctive laugh. Guests included Caroline, Martin Laurance and Teri.

Another big day on Sunday. I was preaching at church, and this was followed by a rehearsal for our visit to the Seagull in the evening. In the afternoon we called in to see Phil and Joy with some Scottish marmalade, and updated them on Andrew. The performance at the Seagull went quite well – especially the first half, when we did my new song, The Rolling Hills of Pakefield, and The Man in the Mask. In the second half we did Feels Like I’m Falling Apart, which was fine, and the full version of Bernadette, which was probably too long. However, we got a good response, and I read a couple of poems too. As you will have guessed, the number of performers was not the highest.

Yesterday saw the culmination of house-cleaning and rearranging, thanks to my wife’s almost limitless energy (I suspect she is siphoning off some of mine). I did arouse myself in the afternoon to paint our two gates and was quite pleased with the result. They also survived a thunderstorm a couple of hours later, following which we went to Morrisons to replenish our fast diminishing food supply.

Singing at the Seagull again

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Dot at Strumpshaw Fen with her new short haircut.

Feeling a bit down; not sure why. Went to the UEA with Rob this morning on Paston business. The UEA half of the conversation (or two-thirds, to be precise) were very keen to create new projects for which they might get additional funding, which was quite exciting, though I may have to juggle creatively to accommodate one of them into Dragon Hall and the NRO.

Then to Paston in the afternoon for a trustees meeting, which was equally full of potential life-consuming items. After supper, went out for a walk while Dot was at orchestra rehearsal and returned too tired to get to grips with the many things that demanded my attention; so watched two or three Bob Dylan videos. Not satisfactory at all, especially with another busy day tomorrow. And my teeth hurt.

The weekend was quite busy too. On Saturday, after a delightful walk at Strumpshaw Fen and then listening to Norwich City getting cheated out of a win against Arsenal by incompetent refereeing, we went to Cafe Rouge for a meal with Angela and Rodney, primarily to discuss Aunt E. Nice meal, though, and A & R came back for coffee afterwards. I invited them, not reflecting carefully enough on the state of the house, as Dot pointed out.

On Sunday I led the service, and in the evening Dot and I went to the Seagull Theatre at Lowestoft and played four of my songs for the assembled thronglet. We had to manage without our lead guitarist, but it seemed to go OK. We sang my new song, Woman at the Window, inspired by a Dali painting, and then Man in the Mask, Sunset Woman and The Band Played On.

While we were there Dot unexpectedly arranged with Ian to visit the theatre again the following evening for a concert by Brian Houston: she was doing P4C at Gorleston in the afternoon, then had a meal at Ian’s and went on to the Seagull.

Meanwhile I was playing chess, trying to catch up with my tournament games. I managed a draw against Chris Tuffin after getting an advantage and being on the brink of losing. Hard work. But hey, at least spring has arrived.

On the minus side, Andrew has been admitted into hospital at Warwick (no beds in Coventry). The manager at The Langleys was concerned that he was not safe following his drugs regime change instigated by a new doctor. He was apparently so affected by drugs that he might have walked into the road. So we now wait to see where they might place him on a more permanent basis.

Hard work and good meals

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A glimpse of the new floor in the study

A kind of order has been restored to 22 Aspland Road. The new floor is all down, and only one thing remains to be done – get  a carpenter (Gary) to reduce the oak post under my desk sufficiently to get it in the space now available. Not quite sure why Mark couldn’t do this. Apparently he didn’t have the right saw.

The filing cabinets presented the most difficulty, because they had to me emptied and filled again each time they were moved. The problem was exacerbated because I took the opportunity to do some resorting of files – mainly grouping them more rationally but in some cases doing some thinning out. Very tiring work, but I’m pleased with the result. Moving the actual cabinets wasn’t the problem we thought it might be, and we’ve also got the hall (Gemmell) bookcase back inside and full of books. Dot thinned out the dresser. Of course we now have stuff in the garage that needs to be disposed of – particularly our futon, for which there will not be room when our study has been converted into a two-person room. (Next stage. Gary again. Hopefully we will also get him to fix the catch on the attic trapdoor.)

At present my car is in the garage to be serviced and MOT tested at huge cost (“It’s the big one”). I’m hoping to get it back before I need to be at the surgery to discuss my blood pressure. but I also want them to do a proper job on the lights, which haven’t been working properly for some months. Pressure? No pressure. None at all. No, really.

Had a very pleasant few days to offset the hard work in the house. On Saturday went to the Greens with Judy for a lovely evening. The Veseys had also been invited, but someone had got the dates wrong. So it was just the five of us plus Anandi and her fiancé David, who are lovely. Saw some photos from Howard and Anna’s recent Ethiopian holiday, made fascinating by their comments and enthusiasm. Lovely meal too. Teetotal Judy gave us a lift, so were able to enjoy Howard’s excellent wine.

Last night’s Valentine Day meal at the Eagle on Newmarket Road was also superb. I had a smoked salmon terrine, followed by the best ribeye steak I’ve had for a long time, and we shared a meringue and fruit sweet. Setting very pleasant, a rose for Dot and service first-class. Could hardly have been better. We didn’t drink there because I was driving, but we came home and finished the evening with a couple of glasses of Prosecco.

Earlier in the day Vicky came round with Amy and George. Jared was away in Kent because his mother had died suddenly (though she had been unwell). Amy and George were pretty lively (respectively), and of course George had to climb the stairs. Lot of illness around: my aunt Josephine’s friend Joyce has recently died, and Josephine has moved (at least temporarily) into a home on Cecil Road. My nephew Joe is very concerned about numbness in different parts of his body (CT scan clear), and his brother Sam has dislocated his shoulder again. Saw Joe outside the Cathedral in the remaining snow on Saturday: he had just given a 2½-hour lecture. Had a chat with him and Birgit, who was waiting for him.

Last Friday I took the afternoon off to go to North Walsham while Mark finished the floor. We had a meeting of the group which will probably be known as Chronicle (Caroline, Rob and me) to discuss putting a Paston show together suitable for presenting at the Coast festival late this year, as well as at Dragon Hall next year or St Peter Hungate (some time). This last followed a meeting with a Hungate trustee on Friday which established that they would be keen for us to do stuff at the church, which is a prime Paston site as well as being significant in its own right. He bought tea and cake at the Briton Arms for Rob and myself – has to be a good sign. The three of us are now going to do some writing centring on Margaret Paston from Mautby.

I led the service on Sunday, and we followed that (after coffee) with a rehearsal of four songs aimed at the Seagull on the 26th. Went surprisingly well considering I was working on the tune of one of them till the last minute. They are Bernadette, Living on a Fault Line, I didn’t think it would come to this and Where you go I will follow (which is not a stalking song). The cold weather has been abating since then – probably not causal – and for the last couple of days it’s been damp , windy and a few degrees above freezing.

After our North Walsham meeting last Monday I called in to see Jessie and her new bathroom. Roger was there too. The bathroom looked really good, though disturbingly there were two metal tubes left over. She seemed in good form. Elsewhere in the county someone has been found to be stealing money rather systematically from another of Dot’s relatives. Who? Sub judice, I’m afraid.

A significant centenary

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My mother in untypical pose on our Lea Francis on holiday in Devon, not long before my father died

My mother was born 100 years ago today, in Eaton village, just outside Norwich. She remembered seeing “the first car go up Eaton hill” and lived through huge changes – most significant of which for her was the early death of her husband at the age of 42, leaving her with three small boys to bring up. It triggered her move back from Coventry to Norwich (I preceded her by six weeks, staying with our former neighbours in Brian Avenue so that I could start school in the city).

Her father was a gardener. She was a teacher and lived to the age of 82. She was a very dutiful mother but in a way never got over her husband’s death. At home she was always there, and I appreciate most of all her decision not to oppose my going to London to live and work, though it would have been easy to put moral pressure on me to stay. I never asked her why.

Sadly she didn’t live to see her great-grandchildren, but she would have loved them as much as we all do. Dot and I went to Caddington on Wednesday – a beautifully sunny drive – to watch Oliver perform in his school concert (he led out the boys’ choir), to help put up the Christmas decorations and to have supper with David while they went to karate. Amy’s reading is coming on really well. We drove back quite late: I’m sure there’s something wrong with the car headlights, but I don’t know what. Today Dot has taken my car to Bradwell (near Yarmouth) for interviewing, so I hope she’s not too late back.

She spent Saturday in London with Anne, and thankfully a poor weather outlook turned out to be quite wrong. They went to the Degas exhibition at the Royal Academy, had lunch at Fortnum and Mason’s and then did a little shopping before catching the 21.30 train back. They got very cheap tickets – so cheap that they travelled first class, as befits first-class women.

The next evening we went to the Seagull again and I read half a dozen poems, as well as presenting a brown envelope that I hope contained a cheque to Lynn Mummery, the winner of the Two Valleys poetry competition, which I had judged. I was pleased to discover that she was quite a new writer, and I encouraged her to come to the next Seagull extravaganza in a couple of months’ time. We shall see.

The gas man cameth on Tuesday to service our central heating. He was a chatty guy who left his torch behind, but before that he checked all our radiators, fixed a couple of the valves that had broken and revealed how I could get the radiators in the living room warmer by shutting off a valve in the bedroom. You learn something new every day. He also replaced a pump in the airing cupboard which I believed had a sticking valve. I now suspect he may have replaced the wrong one, but hey, what can you do?

Off to the surgery in a minute to get my blood tested following a visit to the doctor last week. I’ve just finished seven days of antibiotics and was feeling quite good till I stopped taking them. Oddly, though, I think this may be a coincidence. I hope the blood will reveal something significant (but something that can be easily put right).

The band played on

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An eagle, not a griffin

It’s a soggy October midweek, and I’m just back from Paston, having delivered a CD containing the Paston poetry book file to Lucy, and dropping another off at Rob Knee’s house in North Walsham. A third will go to Caroline at the UEA tomorrow. Meanwhile David is having a look at it to see what he can do to improve it. I’ve already mistaken a spread eagle for a griffin, so that was a good catch (Lucy). Bit nervous about how it’s all going to come together, especially as Lucy doesn’t seem to be able to find the ISBN numbers she has lying around somewhere.

Spent most of Monday and part of yesterday putting the book together, which proved a bit easier than I had anticipated. Had time to clear up some leaves yesterday afternoon, and in the evening we nearly went to the cinema, but H predictably turned up for our Tuesday Group, not having picked up the cancellation message: she was going to come to the cinema with us, but she walked so slowly that we put her on a bus instead and went home to watch three episodes of Battlestar Galactica. I know it doesn’t make an awful lot of sense, but it did at the time. Rather like the query to a wire payment via Lloyds to America for one of our church speakers: it took them eight days to realise there was a problem (which I think we’ve just sorted). Taking eight days to spot a problem doesn’t make much sense either.

Sunday was our big day: it marked my out-of-church debut as a singer in a band, all miked up and with spotlights and everything. The band was Dot (violin), Phil (guitar) and myself (vocals and guitar), and we performed three of my songs – Man in the mask; As soon as it stops raining; and The band played on – at the Seagull Theatre in Lowestoft  as part of their regular “New Words, Fresh Voices” event. I had taken part in this as a poet, but thought I’d give the singing a go after Ian Fosten, the owner and compere, pleaded for more music. Predictably, there was only one poet on Sunday: the rest was music. I didn’t feel we were outshone: the first two songs went really well, and Dot and Phil were really pleased to have done it. As was I, of course. Our band doesn’t have name, but Phil suggested Normal for Norfolk! He is keen to do more, which has to be good.

I’m now feeling better after getting really tired at the end of last week, when an awful lot seemed to be going on – a lot of it on the computer (poetry book) and preparing songs for Sunday, as well as writing a new song which we didn’t use! On Thursday there was a meeting at Dragon Hall about the November Paston event, as a result of which I now have a fairly clear idea about what’s happening when. Except the children’s art/poetry workshop, but I have connected Annette with Sarah to discuss this between them. I’m not usually that good at delegation, so something of a result.

In the afternoon Hilary and I went to Bridges – which is now on Magdalen Road, and not Charing Cross, as I thought – to pick up a bag of Adrian’s poetry books which were going to be thrown out. I’ve had a look at a few but been rather disappointed so far.

Friday was also busy. Dot and I had lunch with the Kibbles at Prezzos, which was very pleasant, but it overlapped slightly with the visit of Rob Knee to make some decisions about the Paston book. Worked out all right, though, and Rob and I were pretty much of one mind, which was good.

Have arranged to see David and the grandchildren over half-term; so that’s pretty exciting. Now to decide what to get Amy for her birthday.

Colonoscopy, gas and all that jazz

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At the King's Head, Hoveton, for supper: Fred, Sue, Ivan, Joyce, Marjorie, Pat

Congratulations to the highways authorities, who have timed road works on Carrow Bridge to coincide with the last weekend of the summer holidays, when all those parents and children are buying back-to-school stuff and the city is crammed. I have just taken our hairdresser Linda up to Ber Street so that she can leave her haircutting bag at her partner’s workplace: her own car is in for an MOT test. On the way back I encountered a long queue of lost cars up Rouen Road, which I ruthlessly jumped. Or slipped into, to be more accurate.

Last night I travelled to Lowestoft, accompanied by Dot after a last-minute decision, for the Waveney and Blyth Arts event. I was supposed to arrive at 6.30 for a run-through, but unsurprisingly this never happened, so we were hanging around for 45 minutes. As much of this was spent chatting to Ian Fosten, it wasn’t a hardship. The event featured poets of a rather higher calibre than some that have appeared at the Seagull, though not all of them were much of a judge of how long ten minutes is. I thought my poems (with accompanying photographs projected on screen) went quite well, though I felt some were a little obscure. Most of the poets relied heavily on evocative description without being particularly poetic in a use-of-words way, the one exception being Nina Roffey from Beccles.

Dot had been feeling rather fragile following her colonoscopy. The first night was bad: she was in a lot of pain, and I was worried that we might have to call the hospital. But it eased off eventually – it was almost certainly caused by the gas that they pump into you during the procedure and don’t bother to pump out again. One day this will be regarded as barbaric. The procedure itself was also painful, but I was out of earshot, taking a walk, having been assured that I wouldn’t be needed.

The next day (Thursday) she was very tired and still had occasional quite bad pain, but she summoned up the will to go to Wroxham on the Jazz Cruise organised by Fred and Sue for the ruby wedding celebration. I was pretty worried how she would last, but it turned out all right, with only a couple of alarms. We had a nice carvery meal in the King’s Head before leaving on the cruise at 7.30pm, sailing down past Horning after taking in Wroxham and Salhouse Broads. It was a lovely evening, though of course it turned quite chilly, and we ended up snug in the cabin after starting on deck. Also present, Marjorie and Pat; Joyce and Ivan. Plus, unexpectedly, Dot’s “friend” from the Bluebell in North Walsham, with whole we had a chat. The jazz band was pretty good too.

This morning we had to be up and about early for our haircut, because Linda was dropped off by Michael on his way to work. In an hour or so we will be at Wymondham for a barbecue at Matt’s house – a kind of farewell before he leaves for Palestine. Weather is very good at the moment.

 

Suddenly involved with all these rivers

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The Waveney at Syleham

Here we are at Saturday again. Doesn’t time fly? The week started with another poetry reading at the Seagull Theatre on Sunday. Dot came with me, and I found myself reading about a dozen poems because so few poets had turned up (well, it’s the middle of August). The audience as always was small but appreciative, and I enjoyed it , as did Dot. We had quite a long conversation with Ian Fosten, and I now find myself intimately involved with a project centred on the Rivers Waveney and Blyth  – if you can be centred on long things that wind around the countryside.

Most immediately, this means I have to write about half a dozen poems involving the two rivers and their environs, and if possible accompany them with pictures – by September 1. As my knowledge of the area is sparse, this means I have to do some swift travelling, and I started yesterday by “discovering” the source of the Waveney. This is in a ditch near Redgrave, which coincidentally is the name of friends who are visiting us on Monday. They mentioned they might drop in on the “ancestral” village of Redgrave on their way up to the holiday home at Kessingland, and so there was an outside chance I might see them there, but unsurprisingly this didn’t happen.

Still, I walked a bit around the ditch, which looked suspiciously dry. But there was a “Waveney Trail” which included part of the nearby – and very watery – Redgrave Fen. The trail also ventured into some nearby woods, but these were unexceptional. Took a few pictures and drove onwards to Billingford bridge, which was interesting,  and another bridge nearby over the River Dove, which wasn’t. Next bridge was at Syleham, by an old mill, and that was beautiful: got one or two nice pictures. At Homersfield, close to the famous Black Swan pub, I discovered the oldest concrete bridge in the country. How do I get this unpoetic information into a poem?

I ended a very warm afternoon at Bungay, where I parked at the golf club and walked down a side of the course, where the river makes a loop rather more graceful than any of my golf shots. Here I got a really good picture of some canoeists, but left without completing the course as I wanted to meet a carpenter who came to look at our living room table. Just got back in time, and it seems he will be able to fix it.

Haven’t written any poems yet, but I have been jotting down a few ideas, in between finishing what must be the most depressing book I’ve read – Stoner, by John Williams. It’s a beautifully written story of a college lecturer who is a good man but without the basic awareness you need to survive: his wife is extremely unpleasant and probably unhinged, and through lack of fight he allows her to ruin their daughter’s life. There’s much more to it – including some important comment on intellectual passion or lack of it – but you get a profound feeling of emptiness which, on reflection, may be because there’s no reference to any deeper purpose of life, either supernatural or spiritual.

I’ve managed to do quite a bit of walking this week, but it doesn’t seem to have had much effect on my efforts to lose weight. When Dot went to see Anne on Tuesday, she dropped me just beyond the bypass, and I walked past Whitlingham Hall and down to the broads, then (with a few delays and excursions) back up Whitlingham Lane and into the city. Continuing the rivers theme, I discovered how the Tas, Yare and Wensum meet, though without much help from the Broads Authority, whose notice at the confluence of the Wensum and Yare is hopelessly inadequate. Why am I suddenly involved with all these rivers?

On Wednesday, as a kind of precursor to my Bungay stroll, Dot and I played pitch and putt on Mousehold. At first my putting was terrible, but it improved towards the end. Mostly my pitching was reasonable, though I did have a bad patch in the middle. Dot was steady in both areas, and we ended up about level, though the dubious card entries showed she won by a single stroke. We were both under 100 – which sounds a lot, but is only just over 5 a hole. Or just under 6. We need practice, and have pencilled in a session with the Robinsons on Easter Monday. The same day we finally got to watch the final film in the Harry Potter series (3D), and it was impressive. We also saw JK Rowling on TV searching for her French roots, and she came over very sympathetically. Fascinating story, too.

On Thursday we had a lovely evening with the Robinsons and their friends from London, Jean and Alan: dinner at Prezzo’s followed by coffee at home. Dot seems to have recovered completely from her tonsillitis, and my mild fluey sort of virus (if that’s what it was) has also abated. I have taken to cooking roast chicken. Dot has spoken to her doctor and is going ahead with her colonoscopy at the end of the month: purely precautionary – no symptoms. My blood test came back “normal”, which doesn’t inspire me as much as the previous “undetectable” and “perfect”, but I guess it’s OK.